TWENTY-SIX.
Ever
——————————
It applies to me.
I glance over at Tobias from the passenger seat. The dashboard lights cast faint shadows across his face, and I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
“When you say you used to be a troublemaker as a kid,” I start carefully, “what exactly did you mean?”
He chews on his bottom lip for a long moment, like he’s weighing how much truth to let out.
“We started smoking and drinking pretty young,” he says finally. “We’d go around town doing dumb stuff. Tagging buildings, breaking into cars, things like that.”
I lean back against the seat, letting the words settle. “Those are pretty serious things.”
He shrugs, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. “As kids, we didn’t think so. We were out of our minds half the time, no real sense of consequences. But yeah. They are serious.”
I hesitate. My mind turning over questions I can’t quite organize. But there’s one question that’s been sitting heavy. “Have you ever been to jail?”
He exhales slowly. “I was held overnight as a juvenile once. They said it was to teach me a lesson.”
I try to steady my thoughts. The idea of him locked up, even for a night, feels distant from the man sitting next to me now. “And did it?”
“Not for a while,” he answers. He shifts in his seat and glances at me, careful. “Took longer than it should have.”
I study his profile. Maybe I don’t know him as completely as I thought I did. But the Tobias I’ve spent months working beside doesn’t feel like that reckless kid anymore.
“When I went with Mina to get drinks,” I tell him, “she mentioned you don’t drink alcohol anymore.”
He nods slowly. “I stopped in my early twenties. Once I started working the ranch full-time after high school, things started shifting. My first time shoveling cow manure while hungover is something I’ll never forget.”
I laugh softly trying to picture it. Young Tobias, head pounding, stomach turning, knee-deep in reality.
He was a troublemaker once, probably deserved worse than a night in holding for some of the things he did.
But I can’t ignore who he is today. The way he works without complaint, the quiet protectiveness he carries, the patience he shows me even when I’m short or distant.
He’s kind. Considerate. And fiercely protective—I’m starting to see how deep that runs.
“I assume the guy you were talking to earlier is someone you don’t get along with?”
His hand tightens on the wheel again. The muscles in his forearm bulging. “That was Robby Burke.”
I close my eyes and groan. “Are you serious?”
The silence that follows is answer enough. I let out a slow breath as the pieces click together. The anger I saw in Tobias earlier makes sense now.
“If I had known that back there, I think I would have slapped him myself.”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” he says quietly. “And you won’t be the last to want to.”
I press my head back against the seat and stare out at the dark stretch of road.
I have my own problems with Robby, but I wonder how long this bad blood has been running between them.
And I wonder if Tobias knows just how persistently Robby and Mr. Jenkins have been pushing me to sell the ranch.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, trying to sort through the swirl of it all.
“I’m sorry about the way things happened tonight,” Tobias says. His voice is low with regret threading through it. Like he’s blaming himself for everything.
“Don’t be,” I tell him. I drop my hand and turn to face him. “You did warn me we might run into people you know.”
He presses his lips together, clearly still uneasy.
“I know that’s probably not what you had in mind,” I continue, “but I still had a good time. I like Connor and Mina. They seem really great.”
“They really liked you too,” he says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced of himself. I reach over, take his hand, and pull it gently into my lap. His fingers relax almost immediately, curling around mine.
“I had a good time, Tobias,” I say, putting extra weight behind the words so he hears how much I mean them. He glances sideways at me, but most of his focus stays on the road ahead.
“I know what you might be thinking of me now that you’ve heard about my past,” he says quietly. “But I’m not who I used to be. There are people who still trigger reactions because of our history, but I’m not that guy anymore.”
I stare at him in quiet wonder, and I believe him with everything I am.
Because despite his tough bravado I’ve seen his softer sides.
The way he notices and remembers small things about me, the way he stops and listens or lets me sit in silence when I need to gather myself.
That’s the Tobias I’ve come to know. The man sitting beside me.
“I used to run away from home,” I tell him.
He looks over at me, surprised but listening.
“My dad left when I was five, so it was just my mom and me. After a while I think she started to resent me. I acted out, never did what I was told, snuck off with friends in the middle of the night. That’s why she always sent me to the ranch every summer.
I think she was just tired of dealing with me.
I wasn’t some huge troublemaker, but I definitely have a past too. ”
He squeezes my hand. The gesture is simple, but it’s everything to me. He doesn’t judge or pry or fill the silence with questions. He just understands.
“I know today didn’t go the way we planned.” His thumb moves in a slow, soothing circle over the back of my hand. “But I was wondering…” He trails off. The longer the pause stretches, the more my pulse picks up, fluttering high in my chest.
“I was wondering the same thing,” I tease, though my heart is lodged somewhere in my throat.
He lets out a nervous laugh and takes his hand off the wheel long enough to rub the side of his face down to his neck.
“The thing is, I can’t stop thinking about you, and I really like spending time with you. The more I get to know you, the more I realize how much I want to be with you. And I know we might not know each other perfectly yet, but I’m thinking—”
“Tobias,” I say firmly, cutting through the rambling.
He looks over and studies my face. I raise my eyebrows at him, already fighting a giddy grin.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
“I will,” I tell him quietly. He glances between me and the road, then quickly pulls off onto the shoulder and yanks up the emergency brake.
He leans over the center console and I meet him halfway, pressing my lips to his. His hand slides to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, and I tug at his shirt to bring him closer.
“I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Always.” The words come out rough, fierce. And I know he means them with every part of himself.
“And I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you on your toes,” I say.
He smiles wide again, eyes moving between mine before he kisses me once more. This time slower, savoring.
“We should probably keep driving, though,” he murmur against his mouth.
“You don’t want to keep making out on the side of the highway?” I teases.
He laugh softly as he straightens in his seat, shifts back into gear, and merges onto the road again. His hand settles on my thigh, and he looks over at me one more time. The smile still lingers on his face, and my heart stutters at the sight of it.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that smile, or the way he looks at me—like I’m not something he has to carry, not a burden or an obligation. Like he simply wants me. And I want him too.
I watch Tobias circle the truck after he parks in my driveway. He opens the passenger door and offers his hand to help me down. He shuts the door behind me with a gentle thud, then we start toward the porch together, walking slowly.
Anticipation hums through me. I know exactly what he’s capable of, the way he can make my body forget everything else.
But tonight his movements feel measured.
Part of me wonders if he’s being chivalrous because this is our first official date, or if he’s drawing it out on purpose, making me want him more with every step.
At the front door he stops and turns to face me.
His gaze moves over my face slowly, taking in every detail.
My breath catches when he lifts his hand and brushes the backs of his fingers along the side of my cheek.
I lean into the touch, savoring the warmth of his palm against my skin, and step closer until our bodies are nearly touching.
“Thank you for coming out with me,” he says quietly.
“Thank you for taking me,” I manage. Struggling to find my own words because his mouth is so close, and it’s all I can focus on. “Do you want to come in?”
“I would love to,” he answers. My whole body lights up at the words, but then he grins, slow and sly. “But I’m not going to.”
“Why not?” I ask breathless. His eyes drop to my lips and his fingers press into my sides.
“Because if I do,” he says, “I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“That wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing in the world.”
“No,” he admits, voice dropping lower. “It wouldn’t.” I slide my hands from his stomach up to his chest. “But this is our first date and I want to respect that.”
I hum softly in response. “I’m not sure that really applies to us at this point.”
“It applies to me,” he tells me. I look up at him, really look. His expression is serious, eyes steady. And I know he means it.
Despite how much I want him right now, despite the heat pooling low in my stomach, I don’t want to push. He’s always respected my boundaries before—given me space when I needed it, waited when I wasn’t ready. I want to give him the same.
He leans down and brushes his lips against mine in a soft, brief kiss, nothing more. The gentleness surprises me. It’s sweet, careful, and it makes something deep in my chest ache in a way I didn’t expect. I want him, all of him, and this quiet restraint only makes me want him more.