Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SADIE
I didn’t sleep.
I just stared up endlessly at the wood-planked ceiling, tracing the grooves as if they were constellations.
When the first pale streaks of sunlight bled through the curtains, I quit pretending I was getting any rest and started quietly packing.
My movements are automatic—fold, tuck, repeat—until my fingers brush against something soft in the bottom of the dresser drawer.
Wesley’s hoodie. The gray one I borrowed. The catalyst of heartache.
I lift it to my nose, inhaling deeply, the soft fabric still heavy with his scent—cedar, fresh rain, and a hint of smoke from sitting by the campfire. My throat tightens as I clutch it tighter to my chest. I should leave it. It doesn’t belong to me. He doesn’t belong to me.
But I can’t seem to make myself let go.
This doesn’t feel real. In a few hours, I’ll be leaving—on a plane headed back to a house that doesn’t feel like home, to a life where I’m hardly tolerated, let alone loved.
At least it’s only for a few weeks. Mia said I can come stay with her in her new apartment. As long as you need, she promised. It was an immediate relief to know I wouldn’t have to stay in that house with Warren.
My suitcase is unzipped, wide open on the bed, staring back at me. For one fleeting moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if I didn’t go. If I didn’t get on the plane. If I unpacked my suitcase and started my morning chores like it was any other day.
Would Wesley ever forgive me? Would we be able to be friends again? Would he ever want more? Could I be just friends and endure unrequited love?
These questions are pointless, because staying would only make things worse. I’m getting on that plane even though it hurts, even though my heart is begging me not to leave this place behind.
I lay the hoodie gently on top of my clothes and slowly zip the suitcase shut.
Glancing over my shoulder, I take in the room one last time.
My favorite quilt neatly spread across the mattress, the wood dresser with a stack of books Wesley shared with me, the borrowed boots placed at the end of the bed.
My lip quivers and I exhale a shaky breath, tugging my bag into the hallway.
The house is still sleeping, the kind of quiet that makes you hold your breath. I try to move softly, following the path with the least amount of creaks, hauling my oversized suitcase down the steps.
Heath is already in the kitchen, dressed for the day, a steaming cup of hot coffee in hand. His eyes lift and he gives me a steady, comforting smile that makes my chest tighten.
“Morning,” he says, glancing at the clock on the stove. “You’re up early.”
I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He nods toward the porch, holding up his mug. “Wanna join me for one last cup?”
I hesitate, but my throat burns, so I nod.
We sit side by side on the steps, coffee mugs warming our hands. The horizon blushes gold and pink, the wildflowers bathing in the glow of rising sunlight.
“Excited to go back?” he asks after a moment.
I let out a soft breath and shrug. “Not really.”
He chuckles softly. “I figured.”
My eyes are pulled toward the barn, the fences, the horses grazing in the fields—everything I didn’t expect to fall in love with.
Almost everything.
Heath takes a slow sip, then sets his mug down between us.
“You don’t have to leave, you know. You’re good at this, Sadie. The animals like you. The guests like you. You’re a natural. That’s more than I can say for some of the knuckleheads in that bunkhouse.”
I blink at him, a little stunned. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” he says, eyes kind but serious. “If you wanted to stay—permanently—we’d be lucky to have you here.”
His words knock the air straight from my lungs. For a second, I can’t move.
“We can set you up in one of the guest cabins during the off-season. Figure out the rest when the time comes.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Are you serious?”
He nods once. “Absolutely.”
Something blooms in my chest—warm, bright, and painful all at once. I close my eyes, letting myself imagine it. Mornings on this porch, sipping from my favorite teal mug. My friends. Monty. Iris.
A job I love.
A life that feels like mine.
But then I think of Wesley…
And I’m forced to blink the daydream away.
I press my lips together. “That’s…really generous. But I don’t think I deserve it.”
He lifts a brow. “What makes you say that?”
My fingers tighten around my mug. “Because I broke your rules. Twice. After everything happened with Lane…Wesley and I were…involved.”
He doesn’t even flinch. Just nods, like he’s been expecting it.
“Yeah, I know, honey.”
My stomach flips. “You know?”
“I’ve been around a long time. Not much happens on this ranch that I don’t know about.” He smiles faintly. “I pick my battles these days. But that doesn’t change what I said. You’ve been good for this place. You’ve been good for us.”
Before I can find words to convey my overwhelming emotions, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a thick white envelope.
“This is for your work this summer,” he says, holding it out. “Fair pay for a job well done.”
My lips part and I try to blink away the stinging in my eyes. “What? No, you didn’t—”
“It’s already done,” he interrupts, gentle but firm. “You earned every cent. Don’t argue with me.”
I take it with both hands, running my thumb over the flap, feeling the weight of it. It’s not just money. It’s proof that I was valued, that I was seen. That I mattered.
My throat burns. My voice is barely a whisper. “No one’s ever done something like this for me before.”
He smiles, lines creasing the corners of his eyes. “If you ever change your mind, you’ll always have a home here.”
Something inside me cracks open. It’s quiet, but deep—the kind of break that lets light in. For the first time in a long time, I feel loved.
I blink back tears and manage a shaky smile. “Thank you, Heath. For…everything.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “You’ve got people in your corner now, Sadie. Don’t forget that.”
When I finally walk down the steps, Emmett’s truck is already idling out front. He meets me halfway, grabbing my suitcase without a word. Lydia throws her arms around me, wrapping me in a tight hug. Her eyes are rimmed red from crying, but I hold my tears in, knowing if I start I’ll never stop.
“I’ll call you as soon as I land, I promise.”
“You better. This place is a real sausage fest without you.”
What we both mean is. I’ll miss you.
I climb into the passenger seat and close the door, silently wishing it were Wesley behind the wheel.
Wishing we had more time. Wishing he’d at least come to say goodbye.
I rest my cheek against the headrest, staring out the back window, hoping—just hoping—to see him standing on the porch. But it’s empty. There’s just the house. The sky. And the hollow ache in the useless organ behind my ribs.
Hot tears roll down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I buckle my seatbelt and let Emmett drive me away from the only place I’ve ever felt I belong.