19. Holden
HOLDEN
Ibrace myself against the gate and lift, taking the weight while Sterling lines the hinge back up. The metal drags before it shifts, heavier than it should be.
“Higher,” my brother says, not looking at me.
I adjust my grip, sweat trickling down my temple, then lift again. The strain pulls across my injured shoulder, the pain sharp and familiar now. But I push through it, boots digging into the dirt for leverage. “It’s as high as it’s going.”
“Try again.”
I exhale through my nose and shift, forcing the gate up another inch. The hinge slides into place with a dull clank.
“Hold it,” he instructs, reaching for the bolt.
“Not planning to let go,” I mutter.
Chance crouches near the base, tightening the lower bracket. He glances up, and I know he clocks it, the way I’m favoring one side just a bit.
“You good?” he asks.
I focus on the gate. “Yeah.”
I can sense his gaze still on me for a beat before he goes back to the bracket. The thing is, it’s not the pain that bothers me. It’s that it used to be easier. All of this, even working with my brothers, used to be easier.
The gate settles a fraction as Sterling secures the top hinge. “That’ll do.”
I ease my grip and step back before the strain has a chance to linger. The gate holds, and I flex my hand once, then reach for the tools like nothing happened.
Chance straightens, wiping his palms on his jeans.
We’ve been out here for an hour, repairing the fence, and all three of us have stripped off our shirts in the summer sun.
We could have asked some of the hands to do it, but I get the feeling we were all in need of getting a little dirty.
Especially Sterling, who these days spends far more time in front of a computer than I think he’d like, coordinating ranch hands and contractors and everything else it takes to keep thirty thousand acres running while keeping the expansion on track.
But even with the hard physical work, my mind keeps going where it shouldn’t.
The feel of Sage’s body against mine, the taste of her mouth, the heat that burned through me when she wrapped her leg around my hips and ground herself against me.
I can’t get it out of my head.
The other night, I let my frustration get the better of me and did something I had no business doing, believing it would make her think twice. It was ridiculous, just like she said. Who am I to tell her who she can sleep with?
Except the thought of her going home with Cash, of him peeling that dress off her and getting to touch her silky skin, riled me up in a way I haven’t experienced in a long time.
“You’ve been quiet all morning, and now you’re scowling at the gate like it’s insulted you.” Chance, always too damn perceptive, scrutinizes me again. “Still recovering from Friday night? You only had a couple of beers.”
“What happened Friday night?” Sterling asks, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm.
I glare at Chance, daring him to comment on my behavior.
He merely smirks. “Holden made a rare appearance at the Silver Pony, drank a few beers, then whisked Sage away.”
“And Taryn,” I point out. “She was tired.”
“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, rubbing his jaw against his shoulder. “After the way you stormed back from the dance floor, looking like you were about to explode, she probably wanted to get you out of there before you got into a fight.”
I snort. “I don’t fight.”
“Never had a reason to, I imagine,” he says.
Sterling examines me, brows pulled low. “Who were you going to fight?”
“No one.” I turn my back on them and squat, picking up the tools lying on the ground. I’ve spent all morning trying to get Sage out of my head. The last thing I need is them making it more difficult than it already is.
When I picked her up, I thought she might bring up Friday night. Hell, part of me wanted her to so I could apologize. Or maybe so I could tell her I didn’t regret it. Or maybe so I could tell her I wanted more.
Damned if I know.
Her expression wasn’t closed off. But it was different from what I’m used to. Until I held out her coffee, that is. Giving it to her and watching her light up has become a habit I can’t—or won’t—break.
Her lips softened into a smile. “Thanks.”
She didn’t say anything else. Just pulled the door shut behind her and headed for my truck.
And now, Sterling and Chance are looking at me with cocked brows because I’m being even more of an asshole than usual. I don’t like it, but I can’t seem to help it.
Sterling snatches a bag from the ground and throws it into the bed of his truck. “Maybe it’s a good thing.”
“What?” I ask.
“You could stand to blow off a little steam. It wouldn’t hurt you to throw a few punches at someone other than…” He trails off, exchanging a look with Chance.
My spine goes taut. “Other than…?”
He rubs his jaw, then shrugs. “Someone other than yourself.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He looks down at his boots for a moment, then turns and leans against his truck. “It means you’ve been in self-imposed exile since you came back.” He shakes his head. “Before that, really. Since Mom died. Maybe it’s time you found somewhere else to put all that anger you’ve been carrying around.”
I take a step back, the muscles along my shoulders and neck tensing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Chance comes to stand beside Sterling. They’re both wearing expressions that look suspiciously like pity.
“You want me to get into a fight because you think, what? That I’m angry about what happened to Mom? It was a shitty accident. Why should I be any angrier than anyone else?”
It’s not anger that I’ve been holding on to. If it were, then maybe what they were saying would make sense. But the issue is nowhere near that simple.
And as satisfying as it might have been to punch Cash’s smug face the moment he put his hat on Sage, I’ve found there are better ways than violence to make a point.
Like pressing Sage against my truck and taking what Cash wanted.
Fuck. Who the hell am I kidding? I kissed her because, in that moment, I damn well needed to.
Sterling watches me for a moment before letting out a breath. “Then maybe consider hanging a punching bag in one of the outbuildings. And for fuck’s sake, come to dinner more often. Dad and Taryn miss you.”
I shake my head. That’s ridiculous. I see them every damn day. Sure, I don’t linger at the main house after my work is done, but I’m here, doing what I can to help.
Chance scrubs a hand over his face. “Think about it, man. At least spend some more time with Taryn. She’d like that.”
They get to work clearing up the equipment while I stew in anger and confusion for a moment. Then I shove those uncomfortable feelings back down where I like to keep them.
I may not agree with most of what they’re saying, but one point does stick.
I need to be a better brother to my sister.
“Hey.”
I turn at Sage’s voice coming from behind me. She walks across the yard, camera dangling from her hand. Despite everything, my mood lightens. I give Whiskey’s neck a pat. “Hey. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She stops a few feet from me. “Chance mentioned you’re going to check fences this afternoon.”
“Just getting ready to ride out now.”
She nods, then steps closer, reaching out a hand to Whiskey, who sniffs it. With a faint smile, she rubs his nose, then meets my gaze. “I was hoping I could go with you.”
“You’re not ready for that.” The words leap from my mouth before I can think it through.
She doesn’t waver. “I’ll be able to keep up.”
I let myself take her in properly. Her shoulders are set, her expression certain. She isn’t second-guessing herself. “This isn’t riding circles in the pen. It’s uneven ground. Long stretches. You get tired or stop paying attention—that’s when it goes wrong.”
“I know how to stay focused.”
She says it so simply, I can’t help but question my own motives for not agreeing right away. Am I genuinely concerned she won’t be able to handle riding fences, or do I just not trust myself alone with her?
I survey the horizon. It’s hazy, with clouds gathering in the distance. It’ll probably storm this evening. That makes checking the fences even more important, and I shouldn’t have any trouble getting back before the weather hits, even with Sage in tow.
I shove down the instinct to tell her no. Avoiding her won’t change what happened between us. And isn’t this why I’ve been giving her lessons, anyway?
Her clear hazel eyes are still fixed on mine, and the certainty in them tips me over the edge. “Stay close,” I say. “Do exactly what I tell you. And if I say we turn back, we turn back. No arguing.”
She nods, excitement lighting up her face. “Okay.”
It’s enough to make me doubt my ability to resist her. When did I become this fucking weak?
“Get Cozy tacked up and ready to go, but be back here in fifteen minutes. I won’t wait around.”
She lifts her chin, accepting my challenge, and I swear a satisfied smirk tugs at her lips. I silently curse myself for finding that sassy smile of hers such a fucking turn-on.
As she turns on her heel and strides toward the barn, I rub the back of my neck. Dammit. Watching her walk away from me in those jeans that emphasize her slender waist and heart-shaped ass isn’t helping either. “Fuck me,” I mutter.
Half hoping she won’t be able to get Cozy tacked up in fifteen minutes so I can leave without her, I finish getting Whiskey ready.
I saddle him, then check the saddlebags to make sure I have my fencing pliers, gloves, and a coil of wire.
Then I strap a light jacket and a canteen behind the saddle and adjust the rope on the horn.
One minute before her time is up, Sage appears at the barn door, leading Cozy, her camera bag strapped crossbody and snug against her back.
She gives me a triumphant grin as she approaches, then stops in front of me. “Care to assess your teaching skills?”
I shake my head, unable to stop my lips from quirking as I check Cozy’s saddle and bridle. She’s done a good job. “Nice work.”
“Thanks.” Her voice is offhand, but a faint flush stains her cheeks.
Her reaction to the praise reminds me of what she told me about her parents. How many choices has she made hoping to finally hear that they’re proud of her?
A heavy weight lands in my gut as I remember Friday night. The way I acted as though I should have a say in her choices too.
I’m a damn asshole.
“Are we ready to go?” she asks.
With one last look at the horizon, where the clouds are still white with soft edges, I nod. “Let’s go.”
Sage mounts Cozy with only a little trouble getting the mare to hold still for her. Then I lead the way to the trail that winds its way toward the south pastures.
For now, the weather is beautiful. Surrounded by green meadows with red-tailed hawks circling overhead, it’s easy to remember the good parts of living at Wild Ember.
As we follow the line of the fence, I keep an eye on the wire, checking for weak spots or breaks.
I keep an eye on Sage too.
“You’re gripping too hard.”
She shoots me a look, part irritation, part amusement, then loosens her fingers.
“I’ve been going through the shots I’ve taken so far,” she says.
I glance over, curious despite myself. “Yeah?”
“It’s not enough. That’s why I wanted to come out today. To try to get something more immersive.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
She gives me a half-smile, then faces straight ahead, lifting her camera with one hand and snapping a photo.
“What was that one for?”
“Have a look.” She holds her camera out.
I nudge Whiskey forward until we’re close enough that our legs brush, then I inspect the image. She captured the mountain peaks in the distance, framed perfectly by Cozy’s pricked ears.
“If I were a horse rider,” she says, “I think that would make me want to come here and experience this.”
“You are a horse rider.”
She gives me a hint of a smile. “In progress, maybe.”
A few minutes later, I spot a fence break in the distance. The wire is sagging just enough to catch the light wrong, the post leaning a few degrees off where it should be. “Up ahead,” I tell Sage, tipping my chin toward it.
As we approach, the break becomes more obvious. I angle Whiskey toward it. “Stay there a second.”
Sage pulls Cozy to a stop as I assess the damage. Not too bad. Shouldn’t take long to fix.
After swinging out of the saddle, I pull the pliers from my saddlebag, followed by the coil of wire. When I test the fence, it gives under my hand. Not enough for cattle to get through yet, but another storm might finish the job.
I work quickly, cutting the loose section before threading in the new wire. Behind me, I can feel Sage watching. Not hovering, not asking questions. Just… paying attention.
The way she always does.
I finish twisting the wire, give it a practiced pull to set the tension, then step back. “That’ll hold,” I say, more to myself than her.
“How did you spot it from so far away?”
I glance back at the fence, then at her. “You get used to what it’s supposed to look like. When it’s off, you see it.”
She hums. “Apparently so.”
I slip the pliers and wire back into the saddlebag and swing back up.
“You good to keep going?” I ask her, though she hasn’t had any trouble so far.
“Absolutely.”
I scrutinize her to make sure she’s not just putting on a brave face, but the way she grins at me tells me she’s not. And when she nudges Cozy forward, that smile still curving her lips as she glances at me over her shoulder, the urge to chase after her hits me hard and fast.
It’s a dangerous feeling.
Makes me think that if I start chasing, I might not stop.