27. Sage
SAGE
“This is kind of terrifying,” I say quietly.
His deep chuckle rumbles through me. “You’re not still worried I’m going to push you off, are you?”
A smile spreads over my face. “Thanks for the reminder.”
With my eyes closed and a drop-off only a few feet away, the solid bulk of him against my back and the warmth of his hands are the only things anchoring me.
Up here, the breeze carries a chill that slips beneath my jacket, making me shiver.
Holden gently rubs my arms up and down as he murmurs in my ear. “Almost time.”
Time to not watch the sun rise?
I don’t voice the question, but it hovers in the back of my mind as I wait.
Without my sense of sight, I pay closer attention to the sounds and scents around me. Birds that were calling sleepily on the way here have already begun to sing, and the leaves of the trees behind us rustle in the breeze. The air smells green and damp, with the distinctive tang that follows rain.
I’m so focused that the tiny break in the birdsong almost feels like a signal.
Between one breath and the next, the day dawns.
The insides of my eyelids turn pink as the first rays of the sun hit me. My face warms, and the sunlight washes over my body. I turn my hands so I feel it on my palms.
I’ve taken a hundred photos of the dawn, but somehow, I’ve never experienced it like this.
The birdsong has swelled into a chorus, and even the scent in the air is different. Sun-warmed, if that’s a thing.
Finally, I take a deep breath and open my eyes.
The sun has crested the mountain peaks, revealing the valley in all its beauty.
Mist rises from the fields, birds swoop through the air, and cattle graze serenely in the distance.
Although I can’t see it from here, I know the ranch below is awake, another day already unfolding.
Holden is quiet behind me.
I turn, resting my hands on his chest and tilting my face up toward his. “That was beautiful. I can understand why you and your mom loved coming up here.”
He looks out at the view, jaw tight. His ribs expand beneath my palms, and some of the tension leaves him on his exhale. When he dips his face to mine, his hat brim briefly shades his eyes but not the softening of his mouth. “I should have come back here before.”
The rawness in his voice sends emotion twisting through me. When he threads his fingers through my hair and lowers his lips to mine, I slide my arms around his ribs and press myself against him. My heart squeezes tight when he murmurs, “Maybe I was waiting for you.”
“Holden…” I whisper.
I’m not sure whether he sees the question in my eyes. If he does, he doesn’t seem to have an answer, because he kisses me softly again and steps away. “Guess we should be getting back,” he says, an artificial lightness in his tone. “Don’t want anyone accusing me of slacking off.”
“Okay.” Pretending this thing between us isn’t as confusing as hell is probably for the best.
Now that the sun is out, the ride back to the ranch goes by more quickly. We don’t talk much, but the silence between us isn’t strained. It’s soft and easy, as if we’re still carrying those moments of serenity up on the ridge with us.
By the time we get back, the ranch is in full swing. We manage to untack the horses and get them back in their stalls without bumping into anyone who might ask questions about why we were out riding so early.
Holden takes me to the ranch house for caffeine. Since Harrison is already cheerfully cooking breakfast, we stay to share it. After that, Holden walks me out to his truck so I can grab my laptop.
As he opens the door for me, he lets his hand linger on my waist, the sweep of his thumb a promise of later. The touch lasts only a few seconds, but it’s still enough to send heat racing through me.
I glance around, then purse my lips. “Do you want people to find out?”
He doesn’t even pretend to look guilty. “Find out what? That you wore me down and now I actually enjoy your company? I think they already figured that one out.”
“No,” I mutter. “That it’s more than that.”
Something dangerously close to satisfaction flickers across his face. “How much more?”
I bite the inside of my lip to stop the laugh from escaping. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told. And I told you—my family won’t care as long as I’m treating you well.”
“I don’t want them to think I’m unprofessional.”
Maybe I’m still not used to this side of Holden, because the way he steps closer and smiles down at me sends butterflies whirling in my stomach. “Being professional is overrated.”
We’re partially concealed behind the open truck door, so after another quick scan to make sure no one’s watching, I run my fingers over the front of his jeans and squeeze, using just enough pressure for his jaw to clench and his dick to swell against my hand.
“I don’t think you want to play this game. ” Smiling sweetly, I release him.
He casually adjusts himself behind his fly, a smirk tilting his lips. “Now why would you go and make a competition out of it?”
I hug my laptop to my chest and scrunch up my nose. Maybe challenging him wasn’t the best idea.
Before I can respond, Chance’s voice cuts across the yard. “You gonna stand there flirting all morning, Holden, or help unload feed?”
I nearly drop my laptop. Holden doesn’t even flinch.
“Mind your own business,” he calls back easily, without looking away from me.
When I glance over his shoulder, I catch his brother grinning. Wonderful. I lower my voice. “See? This is what I mean.”
“Pretty sure Chance read the room weeks ago. He’s probably wondering what took us so long.”
I press my lips together as I stare at him, and the amusement fades from his expression. His gaze holds mine, suddenly serious. “I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Sage. But time is short. It’d be a shame not to make the most of it.”
My heart free-falls into my stomach. It’s not like I need the reminder that this thing between us has an end date.
Or maybe I do.
Because the way he merely tips his hat at me and saunters off—as if we didn’t spend last night wrapped in each other’s arms and he didn’t share something deeply personal with me this morning—hurts in a way I couldn’t have anticipated.
With a sigh, I close the door and make my way back to the ranch house. Feeling the need to be outside, I settle on the porch swing, tucking one leg underneath me and opening my laptop. I try to forget what just happened and focus on work.
My screen glows with half-finished layout drafts for the guest marketing materials. They’re the professional ones, the technically perfect ones.
The ones that still look flat.
I click on the folder with my newer images.
The photos I took of the mountains seen through Cozy’s ears, a close-up of wildflowers in bloom, a shaft of sunlight breaking through the gathering storm clouds.
Others I pulled aside on Saturday—the imperfectly composed, the unstaged.
The ones that feel like the real Wild Ember.
I find the one I took of Holden at the auction, the first photo I added to this folder. It tugs at my heartstrings. That distance between him and the others—I understand it better now.
I understand him better.
As if my thoughts have summoned him, he appears by the round pen. Chance is with him, gesturing as he talks, while Holden stands still, hands shoved into his pockets, his head tipped down.
The ranch house door creaks open, and Taryn drops onto the swing beside me.
“Are you working or spying on my brothers?”
“Working,” I say automatically.
She surveys the laptop screen, her brows raised. “Mm-hmm.”
My lips twitch, but I narrow my eyes at her. “Shouldn’t you be at school by now?”
“I’m waiting for my ride.”
By the round pen, Holden glances toward us. Just once, but it’s enough for my stomach to flip before I look down too quickly.
Luckily, before Taryn can make any more awkward observations, a sedan bounces up the drive and comes to a stop in front of the house. A guy about her age waves through the window.
“There he is.” She jumps up and scoops up the schoolbag at her feet. “I’ll see you later.” She trots down the steps, stopping on the last one to spin back. “Things have been better since you arrived.” Hefting her bag on her shoulder, she smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”
It shouldn’t feel like such a big thing, being told someone’s glad I’m here. Somehow, it does.
She slips into the passenger seat before I can say anything. Not that I know what to say to that. I can only wave as the car makes a U-turn and drives off. Then I sink back against the swing.
Holden and Chance have moved on, and I’m once again alone with my laptop and a brain that’s become increasingly useless over the last few hours—scratch that, the last few days.
I pretend to work for another ten minutes before I give up entirely and wander inside the house in search of more coffee.
It’s quieter than I’m used to. I half expect to find Harrison puttering around in the kitchen, but he must be out somewhere on the ranch. I find a clean mug and fill it with coffee, then head back toward the front door. Halfway there, I pause.
Warm sunlight spills through the front windows onto the worn wood floors, reflecting off the framed photographs on the walls and sideboards. I’ve seen them before, but I’ve never really had a chance to study them.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I move farther into the room. The photographs aren’t arranged carefully or displayed like a family gallery. They’re scattered all over the room.
A black-and-white photo sits crookedly on top of the fireplace, a much younger Harrison in the frame, grinning beside a line of cattle.
Another rests on a table near the hallway, Sterling at maybe eighteen, holding some kind of trophy, while a dark-haired woman who must be his mother smiles beside him.
One near the staircase is of all six kids sitting in the bed of a truck covered in mud.
Taryn can’t be more than three, with dark shoulder-length curls and adorably chubby cheeks.
I scan the faces, finding one I don’t recognize. That must be River. Then there’s Holden, down on the end, mid-teens, sunburned, laughing openly with his arm hooked around Sterling’s shoulders. The corners of my mouth tug up.
The next one of Holden includes his mom. He’s maybe a little older in this one, and they’re sitting on horseback in front of the ranch house. Holden is grinning at the camera, and his mom is looking at him with such pride on her face that it pierces my heart.
I let out a breath. There are more, but I can’t bring myself to look at them right now. So, with my coffee, I step back outside and sit on the swing again.
For a while, I lose myself in my work, touching up some of the images. In fact, I get so caught up that when my phone vibrates, it startles me.
Mom.
Calls from her are few and far between, and they usually come with an ulterior motive beneath the awkward small talk. Bracing myself, I shift my laptop off my lap and onto the swing, then draw my knees up to my chest and answer. “Hi, Mom.”
“There you are,” she says. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in the mountains.”
I smile faintly, despite myself. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to remember your phone, apparently.”
I let out a silent sigh. “You have proof of life now. Is that why you called?”
“Actually,” she says, “your father and I ran into Graham last night. We had a lovely conversation.”
Eyes closed, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Of course they did.
“He asked how you were doing.”
The irritation hits me first, followed by exhaustion. “Mom—”
“What? He still cares about you.”
I stare out at the ranch, wishing I were out there riding with Holden instead of on the phone with Mom, talking about my ex. “I told you. He cheated on me. He was manipulating me.”
When she’s silent, I wonder if I’ve finally gotten through to her. Could she actually care that Graham hurt me?
“We know things were complicated.”
I press my forehead to my knees. Complicated. Like his betrayal was nothing more than an inconvenience.
“He made a mistake,” she rushes on, as if my silence means I’m willing to hear her out.
“People do that. It doesn’t mean you throw away everything you built together.
And your career.” She sighs, her voice gentling.
“You were doing so well. Now you’re out in the middle of nowhere, taking photos of horses and cows. ”
An ache grows behind my ribs. Not because she’s defending Graham, but because, as always, being seen as successful matters more than my happiness. “Mom, stop, please.”
“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this. Do you even have plans for when this job is finished, or are you just intending to go from farm to farm?”
The edges of my phone press into my palm and I force my fingers to relax. “First of all, Wild Ember is a ranch. Secondly, it’s cattle, not cows. And thirdly…” I shake my head. What’s the point? “Thirdly, I have to get back to work.”
“Let’s talk when you get back. Your father and I will take you to dinner. I’m sure you’ll be dying for a civilized meal by then.”
I close my eyes for a beat. “Bye, Mom.”
I disconnect, then drop my head back, staring up at the porch ceiling as I take slow, even breaths.
I’m not sure why I hold out hope that my parents will understand why I walked away from Graham. Or understand me at all.
Maybe it’s time I accept they never will.