Chapter 23
Kayla
“Wanna go for a ride?” Colt asks the moment he steps into the kitchen. I take another sip of my coffee, made with the Starbucks creamer you can only get from the store in Malta.
“Where’s Ben?” I ask, looking over the rim of my mug.
I bought the mug as a joke for Colt, but I think I’m the only one who uses it.
It’s a white mug with the silhouette of a fence post that has a cowboy hat and a bra hanging off of it.
The words I saved a horse today arch over the setting like a rainbow.
I think Colt appreciated it. Actually, I believe his exact words were, “Well, we don’t wanna make a liar out of you now, do we? ”
“Last Sunday of the month,” he answers, pulling a protein bar out of the pantry. Right. Ben’s at his grandparents’ house. Mandy’s parents—Sylvie’s are more of a Christmas and Easter type of grandparent.
“Can we go to the valley?” I ask, already cleaning up my mess.
“Again?” Colt’s lips twitch, as if he’s about to laugh at me, but he manages to contain himself. “You don’t wanna check out somewhere else on the ranch?”
“We can take the long way round, and you can show me that lake you’ve been talking about,” I compromise.
“Alright, but we’d better bring some food and drinks with us then. That’s a long ride.”
“Okay, you pack that up, I’m gonna go get dressed.” I basically run around the kitchen island in my hurry. Colt’s body shakes with his chuckles, but I just ignore him.
These rides have become a weekend tradition.
Sometimes Ben comes, and sometimes he doesn’t.
Half the time we ride out to the valley, the other half, Colt insists on showing off a new part of the ranch.
I think he thinks I’ll remember how to get to each place, but he has so much land, I don’t think I’ll ever fully explore everything it has to offer.
And even if I could, I wouldn’t ever be able to find it again.
I toss on jeans and a tank top, braid my hair, and then grab the sunscreen, all in a matter of minutes. I swear, the longer I stay in Montana, the faster I get at doing everyday things.
“Ready?” I skid into the kitchen, where Colt is just zipping up a backpack.
“You got a hat?”
“I’ll grab it off the hook on the way out.”
”I think we need to get ya a real hat one of these days.” His hand on my back guides me back into the foyer, where he grabs his old baseball cap and drops it onto my head, and then grabs his cowboy hat off the rack.
“Sure,” I shrug indifferently. I’m not really a hat person. I wear them for practicality, but they definitely don’t do me any favors. I have a bit of a flat head. Probably spent too much time on my back as a baby. “Sunscreen,” I say, waving the spray in his face.
“I don’t need that,” he grumbles, pulling his jeans over his boots and standing upright.
“Yes, you do. It protects you from skin cancer. Now, let me spray you down.”
“Fine.” I follow the grumpy Gus out onto the porch, where he stands with his arms spread wide, taking the stance of someone ready to be covered in sunscreen. Once he’s done, he sprays me down, and then we’re on our way.
Our horses are already saddled, waiting for us.
Over the past few weeks, Dixie has felt more and more like my horse.
I come out and give her treats, and when I have spare time, I come to the field just to spend time with her.
I was never one of those girls who wanted a horse growing up, probably because I knew how unrealistic it was, but I don’t think I could ever go back to not riding now that I’ve experienced it.
Saturn takes off at a steady pace, and Dixie follows closely behind. We weave our way through the brush, following the same path we always do to the cliff over the meadow. We have yet to wander down into the valley, but that’s fine for now. The view from the top is pretty spectacular.
“Are you excited for the end of the year?”
“I feel like I barely worked this year,” I admit, pulling up alongside him. “I mean, I subbed a little in Chicago before coming out here, but I really only taught for three months.”
“And look at all you’ve done for those kids in just those 3 months,” he nudges my knee with his own.
“I feel like I barely touched the surface. I’m not ready to say goodbye to them.”
”The nice thing is, you don’t have to. This is Castlebrook. You’re gonna watch them grow up.”
“If I stay.”
“You’re staying.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. I have no intention of leaving Montana. It’s just not in my plans. “I’ll try and find a place to rent by the end of the summer,” I promise him.
“You don’t have to,” he guides Saturn onto the path along the cliff side, and once again, the beauty of the valley and the wildflowers steals my breath away. “Stay with us.”
“I can’t stay with you forever,” I sigh, forcing myself to look away from my favorite place on this ranch.
“Why not?”
“Because eventually I’m going to want to have a family and settle down. I can’t do that while sleeping in your guest bedroom.”
“Your bedroom.”
“What?”
“It’s not the guest bedroom,” he scoffs, hopping down from Saturn and leaving the horse to graze along the tree line. He holds Dixie while I slide down from her saddle, not nearly as graceful as the seasoned cowboy. “It’s your bedroom.”
“Colter,” I heave out a breath.
“Come on.” He doesn’t let me continue the conversation, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the horses.
“Where?” I ask.
”Did I ever tell you that this was my mother’s favorite place on the ranch?
” He asks, pulling me closer to the edge.
My feet falter as we get closer, and I wonder if this is his villain origin story, the moment in time where he tells me why he is the way he is before tossing me over the edge of the cliff.
I’m too young to die.
”No, you didn’t,” I reply hesitantly. “The only thing you’ve said about your mother is we don’t talk about your mother.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. We come to a stop right where the edge of the earth juts out, creating a little platform for us to stand over the valley.
“Is this safe?” I whisper, peeking over the edge.
He unzips his backpack, pulling out a blanket and laying it on the ground. “My Mom used to love standing here. Dad was always scared the earth was going to shift, so he had it reinforced with some beams. You can’t see them from here, but you can from below.”
“That sounds expensive,” I settle down onto the blanket while Colt starts pulling out the picnic lunch he pulled together.
“Yeah, well, Dad was ridiculously in love with her.”
“So then what happened?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me. Colt studies me from beneath his long eyelashes, breathing deeply.
“She left when I was five. Just packed up and walked right out the door without so much as a goodbye.” He rips off half of his sandwich and passes it to me.
“I guess she’d been struggling for a while with coming to terms with being a mom of three.
She was quite a bit younger than Dad, and she blamed him for taking away her partying years.
” I take the sandwich from him, my appetite suddenly gone, but I hold it anyway, grounding myself with something solid.
“Dad thought they were hopelessly in love, building a family and a future. She thought they were having fun, until suddenly she wasn’t having so much fun anymore.”
“That’s awful, Colt,” I murmur. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but I can see the way his jaw ticks. “It was a long time ago.”
“But that kind of thing—it sticks with you.”
He nods once, eyes fixed on the valley. “Yeah. It does.”
For a while, we sit in silence, the wind picking up just enough to ruffle my braid and tug at the hem of the blanket. Colt passes me a bottle of water and opens one for himself. I take a small sip, letting the coolness cut through the thickness in my throat.
“I’d be so angry if Mandy or Sylvie ever decided to walk away from Ben,” he says finally, voice low.
I blink. “Your Dad wasn’t?”
“I think he was, but he loved her. I think a part of him always thought she’d make her way back to him. He never seemed to remember how bad it got before she finally walked out. How many nights did I have to pretend I didn’t hear them yelling? Or crying. Or slamming doors.”
“Colt.” I reach for his hand. His fingers are rough and warm.
“I had a good upbringing,” he tells me. “A great Dad, too. I just wish he hadn’t spent his life pining after someone who was never good enough for him.”
I squeeze his hand. “He spent his life with a family who loved him and supported him. I have no doubt he knew how lucky he was to have you boys.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’m sure he was super thankful when we were causing havoc on the town. Like when we snuck a pig into the school gym for Wyatt’s senior prank.” He finally looks at me again. “You know, sometimes I think I’m too set in my ways. Too stuck in the idea that love isn’t worth the risk.”
I suck in a breath, but I don’t interrupt.
“But then you came here. And it was like I couldn’t help it. You just kept fitting, like a missing puzzle piece. Like you belonged in every room of that house. In the truck. At the dinner table. With Ben.” He breaks into a self-conscious smile. “Even in the barn, tripping over your own boots.”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “That happened once.”
“Twice.” We both laugh. But it fades quick, the quiet settling between us again. From below, the wind whistles up the side of the cliff, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers. The horses graze quietly behind us. Below us, the valley stretches out like a promise.
“I don’t know if I can go back to how things were before you if you do decide to leave,” he tells me.
“I already told you I’m not leaving,” I remind him.
“I’m not talking about if you leave Castlebrook.” His eyes pierce me with an intensity so strong it feels like gravity. “I’m talking about if you leave our home.”
”Colter.”