CHAPTER 3
Anna
I stirred from sleep to the sensation of warm breath tickling my face—hot and insistent.
My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring directly into Chester's playful gaze, his tongue lolling out in what could only be described as a grin.
His tail thumped against the bed frame in rhythmic excitement, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Hello to you too," I mumbled, my voice still thick with sleep.
Chester's whimper of delight filled the room as I reached down to ruffle his golden fur. Well, this is one hell of an alarm clock. But honestly? I'd take a dog's wet nose over the jarring buzz of my phone any day.
With a languid stretch that made my spine pop in three places, I pushed myself up from the bed.
God, when was the last time I'd actually slept through the night?
The pillow beside me still held the indent of my head, and for a moment, I just stared at it.
No nightmares. No waking in a cold sweat, checking the locks.
Just sleep.
My feet sank into the plush carpet as I padded to the window, drawn by something I couldn't quite name. When I pulled back the curtains, the ranch unfolded before me and my breath caught.
Holy hell.
The morning sun painted everything in shades of gold and amber. The paddocks stretched out like a patchwork quilt, white fencing sharp against the green grass. A soft breeze carried the scent of hay and wildflowers through the open window, mingling with the earthy aroma of the stables.
The reality of my new surroundings settled over me with profound impact: This is real. I'm really here.
From my vantage point, I could see workers already deep into their morning tasks, moving with practiced rhythm through the paddocks.
Horses trotted alongside them, sleek and gleaming in the light.
Even from up here, the bond between human and animal was unmistakable, something in the way they moved together, perfectly in sync.
The sight filled me with a profound yearning. I'd missed this. Missed being around horses. Missed the simplicity of a life that revolved around their care and training instead of... walking on eggshells. Calculating every word, every movement, every breath to avoid setting him off.
I forced myself to pull back from the toxic memory. I wouldn't think about him. Not here.
My gaze swept across the property until it landed on the fenced arena behind the barn. Even from this distance, I could hear the rhythmic thud of hooves against soft earth, a melody of strength and grace. Someone was riding.
I squinted against the morning sun, a small smile curving my lips.
Connor stood at the edge of the arena, tall and confident, that quiet authority he'd always carried radiating from him.
Beside him, a man and a woman spoke animatedly, their gestures bright as they watched a magnificent blue roan stallion parade before them—the same one from yesterday.
The horse moved like liquid silver, each step a testament to months, maybe years, of careful training. The rider sat deep in the saddle, their aids so subtle I could barely see them, yet the horse responded to every cue, gliding from walk to trot to canter with effortless precision.
Connor always did have a gift with horses.
As the demonstration drew to a close, I watched nods of approval and firm handshakes being exchanged.
A sale, probably. The couple looked thrilled, and Connor looked.
.. satisfied. Proud. The trio made their way back toward the barn's office, their voices carrying faintly on the breeze, though I couldn't make out the words.
Chester nudged my hand with his nose, and I glanced down at him.
"All right, all right. I get it."
Curiosity propelled me down the stairs, Chester's nails clicking on the hardwood behind me. The house was quiet, peaceful in a way that made my chest ache. No footsteps I needed to track. No doors slamming. No sudden silences that meant danger.
Just... quiet.
The kitchen was a study in modern elegance.
Sleek surfaces, gleaming appliances, everything perfectly placed.
It stood in stark contrast to the rugged beauty of the ranch outside, but somehow it worked.
A glass sliding door led to a covered porch, and I could picture it: summer evenings, friends gathered around a grill, laughter floating on warm air scented with barbecue smoke.
The memory of the life I'd lost, the social ease that was impossible with Daniel, made me wistful. I shook the thought away and kept exploring. The side door beckoned, and with Chester trotting faithfully by my side, I stepped out into the golden warmth of the sun that hit the porch.
The light hit my face, and I closed my eyes, tilting my head back to feel it. The crisp morning air filled my lungs, sharp and clean and so impossibly fresh that I felt like I could breathe properly for the first time in months. This is what peace feels like.
In the distance, an older barn caught my attention. Its weathered exterior spoke of years of use, of storms weathered and seasons passed. It was nothing like Connor's pristine main barn. This one was utilitarian, practical. Real.
I started walking toward it, drawn by the gentle sounds of horses grazing somewhere beyond. As I got closer, I could see the pasture behind the barn and the silhouettes of several horses dotting the field.
Something tugged at the edges of my mind. Something familiar.
My steps slowed as I approached the fence, squinting against the sun to get a better look at the horses. They were too far away to make out clearly, but there was something about them, the way that bay held its head. The dappled gray's stance.
No. That's impossible.
But the feeling persisted, urging me forward. My hand found the gate latch before I'd even decided to open it. The metallic click echoed in the stillness, and several of the horses turned their heads toward me, ears pricked forward.
I stepped inside, and suddenly they were moving toward me, their expressions curious and—
Oh my God.
My heart slammed against my ribs as recognition hit me like a physical blow. These weren't just any horses.
These were Sam's horses.
I stood frozen, rooted to the spot as they approached. The bay with the white blaze—that was Jasper, Sam's first horse. And the dappled gray—Scout, the one she'd trained from a yearling. And there, hanging back slightly, was Molly—the sweet chestnut mare who'd been Sam's confidence builder.
Sam's horses. Connor had Sam's horses.
A whirlwind of emotions crashed over me. Grief, sharp and fresh as the day I'd gotten the news she’d been killed; gratitude that Connor had taken them in, given them a home; and beneath it all, a bittersweet ache that tightened my throat.
Sam should be here. She should be the one standing in this field, greeting these horses. Not me.
My eyes burned, and I pressed a hand to my chest, a silent plea echoing in my mind: God, Sam. I miss you so much.
The sound of footsteps behind me made me jump, my heart rate spiking before I recognized Connor's gait. He joined me in the pasture, his presence steady and comforting as he reached out to stroke Jasper's neck.
"I wasn't sure how to tell you," Connor said, his voice gentle but uncertain. "You fell asleep upstairs after I left yesterday, or else I would've brought you out here myself."
I couldn't find the words. My throat was too tight. Instead, I nodded and reached out to touch Scout's soft muzzle.
Then it hit me.
My gaze swept across the field, counting heads—Jasper, Scout, Molly, two others I recognized from shows. But—
"Where's Choco?" The words came out sharper than I intended, edged with panic.
Choco. My boy. The spirited Arabian–Quarter Horse mix who'd been my partner, my soulmate, my best friend on four legs. The one I'd had to leave behind when I ran. The one whose absence had hurt almost as much as leaving Sam.
Connor's expression softened, and I braced myself for bad news. Please don't tell me something happened to him.
"All of these horses are rideable," Connor explained, a hint of excitement creeping into his tone.
"We use them here on the ranch. The ranch hands take them out for work or leisure rides when they need to.
" He paused, a fond smile touching his lips.
"But Choco… he was different. I couldn't even ride him. "
My breath caught. "Was?"
"Is," Connor corrected quickly, and relief flooded through me so fast it left me dizzy. "He's fine, Anna. More than fine, actually. He's in the back fields with the yearlings right now, running wild and living his best life."
He's okay. Choco's okay. The truth of it made my shoulders slump in profound gratitude.
"I never would've left him behind," Connor added, his gaze steady on mine. "I know what he means to you."
Gratitude surged through me, and I blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Can I… can I see him?"
Connor's smile widened into a full grin. "I was hoping you'd ask. Come on."
Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest as we made our way back toward the old barn, Chester bounding alongside us with renewed enthusiasm. The sound felt strange. Rusty, like I'd forgotten how to laugh.
We climbed into one of the utility vehicles parked by the barn—a side-by-side with mud-splattered sides and worn seats that had clearly seen plenty of use. Connor drove us down a winding dirt trail, the trees parting to reveal an expansive field that seemed to stretch on forever.
My breath caught.
The sight before me was breathtaking. Yearling horses dotted the pasture. Some grazing peacefully, others nipping and playing. They'd formed little communities, distinct clusters spread across the field. But one horse stood apart, grazing near the far fence line.