Chapter 40
Staying
Sawyer
I’m raw and on edge after what happened between me and Wes.
Part of me wants to say screw him, curl up on my couch, and binge watch true crime documentaries about women who murdered their boyfriends in heinous ways after being wronged.
But no matter how much I want to, I can't silence the nagging voice in my head telling me to get my ass over there and talk things through with him—before it’s too late.
So, I pull myself up by my bootstraps and drive out to Dawson Ranch, determined to talk some sense into Wes.
“I’m old enough to know better than to throw away something this good and pretend it’s nothing.”
He’d said those very words just last night and then had walked away without giving me a chance to explain.
But he'd been right. This was something rare, something worth holding on to, and I wasn't about to let a misunderstanding ruin it.
Not when everything I wanted was within my grasp.
Not when Wes was so close to realizing what he truly wanted.
I nudge the door to Pops’ house open and freeze when he says my name from the kitchen.
“plenty... talk about... something... I need you to hear first.”
Pops’ voice is a quiet grumble, his words disjointed, but I catch just enough to know I should keep listening. I move forward, staying out of sight, not even a little ashamed that I’m eavesdropping.
“So, I’ve decided—on my own, mind you—that I’m selling the ranch.”
That last sentence rings loud and clear in the silence of the little farmhouse.
My heart drops, and the pit in my stomach gapes wide. Whatever I'd been planning to say to Wes has flown straight out of my head.
Pops is my family. The thought of his life’s work being erased—the open fields turned into a wind farm or a new housing development, the land fractured into pieces and sold to the highest bidder—guts me.
I never thought he'd actually go through with selling this place.
Angry tears stream down my cheeks, and I swipe at them furiously. How could he give up? I never imagined he'd just quit like this.
I take the porch steps two at a time, the bang of the screen door echoing behind me as I climb into my truck. By the time I get home, I barely take a breath before heading straight to the stables. I need to ride. I need distance. I need to figure out what the hell to do about Wes—about all of this.
The temperature is dipping, and the wind is frigid against my cheeks as I tack up Dolly. I want to beg Wes to stay, but I don’t want to be one more person he’s scared to disappoint.
The farther I get from my house, the clearer everything becomes. I understand why Pops made this decision now. He knows Wes as well as I do. He doesn’t want him to feel obligated to stay, to shoulder a burden that isn’t his.
Maybe that means I should let Wes go, too.
Maybe I shouldn’t fight for him, tooth and nail.
My heart twists painfully in my chest, and I give Dolly free rein as the cold air freezes the tears on my face.
My breath whispers past my lips like puffs of smoke from a chimney, vanishing into the wind.
Before long, Dolly leads us to the spot Wes brought us to not so long ago with the sandy buttes, the copse of trees, and the pond with the water rippling in the wind.
I could have stayed inside my heated house to cry, but this is more fitting.
It feels right to mourn the loss of Dawson Ranch right here, in its most beautiful spot.
I dismount, my boots crushing the brown grass. The trees have gone bare over the last few weeks. Winter’s snuck in quick this year and I rub my hands together to keep warm as I cry for a number of reasons.
For Pops and my fear of losing him.
For the ranch and whatever will happen to the wild land that encompasses it.
For Wes leaving and the knowledge that whatever we had will be gone.
I sob for it all, and when my toes are numb and my fingers feel like ice in my gloves, I hear a horse picking its way through the dry prairie grass.
There’s a thump as his boots hit the ground on dismount, and my back straightens when I feel him step up behind me.
I wipe off the tears that stain my cheeks before crossing my arms and turning around to find Wes in a Carhartt coat, watching me with soft eyes and a plaid blanket draped over his arm.
“You’re gonna freeze out here, Red. I've been looking everywhere for you.” He unfolds the blanket and wraps it around my shoulders. I grab it and tuck my chin inside the warmth of the heavy material.
My nose is running from the cold and the crying, and I surreptitiously swipe at it with the corner of the blanket before turning back toward Wes. “You stole my horse,” I mumble.
"I needed a horse to chase you around the entire countryside. Guess that means I owe you one," he says.
I give him a reluctant smile. "Guess so."
"I saw you tearin’ down Pops’ driveway. I thought you went home. I went to look for you and your truck was there, but you were nowhere to be found. When I noticed Dolly was gone, I got worried you were out in this cold.”
Gray clouds hang low in the sky over the field, and I can make out tiny flurries of snow beginning to swirl in the mid-November air. "I needed to ride for a bit."
He peers down at me with those hazel eyes flecked in gold. “You heard what Pops said about selling the ranch?” he guesses.
I nod, swiping away a stray tear. He stays quiet for a moment before stepping closer.
“I’m sorry about what happened at your place.”
I bite my bottom lip, willing it not to tremble.
“I felt manipulated… like everything I believed was real between us had been a lie, too.”
My eyes snap to his, and I shake my head back and forth vehemently. "Nothing between us was a lie, Wes."
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, digging the toe of his boot into the dirt. "I told you how I felt about you last night… and I guess I'm still not sure how you feel about me."
His voice is steady, but I don’t miss the way he avoids my eyes, the restless energy in his stance. Wes rarely fidgets—he’s always been the kind of man who stands firm, who knows exactly where he belongs. But right now, he’s unsure, waiting for me to either pull him closer or push him away.
It makes me want to soothe the lingering doubt, so I can get the self-assured Wes back. I had worried he might think it was another strategic maneuver on my part if I told him how I felt. But looking at him now, I know he needs to hear the truth.
I close the small gap between us and grip the lapels of his Carhartt coat.
"Wes Dawson, you drive me absolutely crazy. When you don’t come over to help with the horses at the end of the day, I miss you.
When you're with me, I feel like my heart might explode from sheer happiness.
And when I saw Hannah wearing your ring, I wanted to tackle her to the ground and rip it off her finger.
"You took care of me when I couldn't get off my couch for a week—for no other reason than I needed you.
You built a new pen for the goats, and somehow, Roscoe still hasn't managed to escape it. You take me exactly as I am—prickliness and all—and you look at me like I’m the only person in the world who matters.
"Wes, I’m so in love with you, it hurts."
I hadn’t even admitted all of that to myself yet, but as the words pour out, it feels right.
Wes nods, deep in thought for a moment as he peers out at the brown grass covering the gently rolling hills. He wraps his arms around me. “The idea of not being able to see you every day makes me want to puke. I don’t want to be without you.”
Tears slide down my cheeks. “I don't want to be without you either, but my entire life is here.” My voice is muted, a croaking whisper that I mumble into his coat. If this is a goodbye, it might just break me.
He grabs my chin with his thumb and index finger, making me meet his eyes.
“So is mine,” he states matter-of-factly, tracing the line of my jaw with his thumb in a slow, soothing stroke.
“You’re my entire life now, Sawyer. All the best parts of it, anyway.
I can’t bear the thought of leaving Cottonwood Creek, of losing you.
I don’t want to go a single day without waking up to that wildness in you and that fire in your eyes.
You make me feel alive. I’m not willing to go without that feeling ever again. ”
“What are you saying?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, and he smiles at me in that heartbreakingly tender way he always does. “I’m saying that I love you, too. I finally know what I want and that's you, Red. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re staying?” I can’t risk the hope. Can’t fathom that everything I wanted is right here in front of me.
He cups my face in both hands, so I have no choice but to look at him. “I’m staying. And I’m gonna take over Dawson Ranch.”
I’m not sure how I have any more liquid left to cry, but my eyes brim up with tears yet again. “You’re staying?” I ask again because I can’t believe it. “But Pops...”
“Don’t you listen to a word anyone says, Red?” he jests. “I’m staying. I reckon Pops thought taking the pressure off by telling me he was selling the place might force me to get my head out of my ass. So, yeah. I’m st—.”
I stand on my toes and shut his mouth up with mine.
My heart explodes with joy as the flurries of snow fall more heavily.
Snowflakes catch in his hair as I kiss him, the cold air forgotten in the warmth of his solid embrace that anchors me to this moment—this impossibly beautiful reality that I was too afraid to believe in.
When we break apart, I search his eyes, still needing reassurance that this isn't a dream. His forehead rests against mine, and he breathes out a soft chuckle. "Do you believe me now?"
I nod. "Say it again anyway," I whisper, because I need to hear it one more time.
He gives me a crooked grin. "I'm staying, Red. I'm staying, and I'm yours."
"All mine."
He seals the promise with a kiss, deeper this time, as the world outside of this little cocoon around us disappears.
My cheeks are numb, my nose possibly frost-bitten, but I don't mind.
Not when his lips move against mine with such certainty, chasing away the cold in a way no amount of layers ever could.
“I hate to break it to you," he murmurs against my mouth, "but the hardest part is yet to come.”
I cock my head to the side, wondering what the hell he’s talking about.
“I have to tell my parents.”
I brush my lips against his once more before pulling away. “Don’t worry. I’ll be by your side the whole time.”
Telling his parents should be a piece of cake. The hard part—the uncertainty, the possibility of losing him—is over. I have everything I want right here in front of me.
And now, he's staying.