30. Holden
HOLDEN
Alow ringtone drags me from a deep sleep, and I blink awake in the darkness of my cabin. A warm body is slung over me, honeysuckle-scented hair draping my shoulder. Sage murmurs sleepily, nuzzling into my chest. Instinctively, I rest my hand on her waist.
I’m tempted to hit the ignore button so I can sink back into sleep with her beside me. But there’s a reason phones don’t get silenced at night around here. On a ranch, a call at this hour isn’t likely a good thing.
I brush my lips over Sage’s head, then carefully roll her off me and snag my cell off the side table. “Hello,” I mutter.
“Sorry to wake you, man. But I could use your help.”
The controlled urgency in Chance’s voice clears my mind fast. I scrub my hand through my hair. “What’s up?”
I keep my voice low so I don’t wake Sage, but a moment later, the mattress shifts and a warm arm slides around my waist. I cover her hand with mine as Chance gives me the rundown.
“The new mare is foaling, but she’s having trouble. Think you could help?”
I don’t bother questioning why he’s asking me when the others are closer. “Yeah. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Ending the call, I twist, hooking my arm around Sage and drawing her warm body onto my lap.
Her drowsy eyes search my face. “Something wrong?”
“One of Chance’s mares is having trouble giving birth. He needs a hand. You stay here and go back to sleep. I’ll probably be gone for a few hours.”
She blinks, her eyes clearing. “Can I come?”
“It’s going to be cold and dirty,” I warn her.
As she slips off my lap, I curl my hands into fists so I don’t pull her back in.
“I’m getting used to the cold and the dirt.” She turns, surveying me, a line forming between her brows. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t come. Will I be in the way?”
I stand and draw her against me. “You won’t be in the way. If you want to come, I want you there.”
She smiles up at me, but I give her a gentle squeeze. “Just know that the two of us turning up together in the middle of the night might raise questions.”
I hate the way her face falls.
“I told you already, I’m okay with questions if you are,” I tell her. “And just because someone asks them, doesn’t mean we have to answer.”
Her teeth press into her bottom lip, and I rub soothing circles against her skin with my thumbs, even as I silently urge her to agree.
She inhales deeply, then nods. “Okay.”
Satisfaction courses through me in an unexpected wave, and I drop a kiss on her lips. Then I tap her perfect ass and step back. “Better get a move on, then.”
With a cute fake scowl in my direction, she rushes around the room, plucking clothes from the floor where we left them after I stripped her out of them, tossed her onto the bed, and ate her out until she screamed my name.
My dick hardens at the memory, but considering we’ve got no time to spare, I force myself to focus on dressing too.
The barn will be cold at this hour, so I make sure to pull out layers. Before Sage finishes dressing, I corner her and drag one of my thermal shirts over her head. It hangs almost to her thighs, but it’ll keep her warm.
“Don’t want you catching a chill,” I murmur as I roll up one sleeve, freeing her hand.
The sight of her like this, in my shirt, all warm eyes and soft lips, sends a bolt of possessiveness through me. I brush my mouth over hers, then pull back quickly.
On our way to the door, she reaches for her camera bag on the table, then hesitates before leaving it behind as she follows me out.
My headlights cut through the darkness as we drive toward the ranch. Bypassing the house, we head directly for the foaling barn. Light streams through the partially open door, and as soon as we’re inside, Chance comes into view.
As we approach, he looks up from where he’s standing beside the mare in her stall. His gaze flicks from me to Sage, but apart from a twitch of his lips, he doesn’t react.
“Thanks for coming. There’s a thermos of coffee over there if you need it.”
I look at her, but she shakes her head. “We’re okay for now,” I tell him as I open the stall door and gesture for Sage to go in first.
She stands against the side wall, arms crossed, and I join Chance, taking in the mare’s condition.
Her head hangs low, and her flanks and swollen belly are flecked with sweat. She’s restless, her hooves shifting in the deep sawdust bedding, her tail swishing. “What’s happened so far?”
Brow furrowed, my brother rubs his hand down the mare’s neck. “No progress. I already called Doc and gave him a heads-up. But I’m hoping with your help, we can get her through it.”
She grunts, sidestepping restlessly, and I move closer, smoothing my hand over her shoulder. Her muscles quiver under my palm.
“Is she okay?” Sage asks quietly.
“She’s tired,” I tell her. “Might be just a big foal; worst-case scenario, it’s facing the wrong way.”
“We need to figure out why she’s not making progress,” Chance adds. “If I don’t like what I find, Doc’s coming out.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” she says softly.
Chance just nods, his focus on the mare.
“Can you hold her?” he asks me. “I want to check the foal’s position.”
With a dip of my chin, I take my place next to her head, grasping her halter as Chance gloves up and applies lubricant.
“Front legs are in the right place,” he says. “Head’s a little off to the side. Not bad enough to panic yet.” He pulls his arm out and strips the glove off.
The mare shifts hard against my grip on her halter, sweat darkening the chestnut hair along her neck and heat rolling off her in waves. “You think she can do it herself?”
He watches her for another second, brows drawn together. “Maybe. It could straighten as she pushes. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to help it along.”
The mare stamps once, ears pinning, then pushes.
Nothing. Chance mutters a curse.
Breathing steadily, I rub my hand down her neck, gauging the way her muscles tremble. “Easy, girl.”
She settles, and Chance rests an elbow on the half door. “Knew there was a reason I called you. You always could calm the difficult ones.”
He glances at me. “Remember that gray mare Dad bought when we were kids? The one that tried to kill everybody during foaling season except for you?”
I chuckle. “You mean the one that tried to take your thumb off?”
“She did take my thumb off. Damn near, anyway.”
“Still attached last I checked.”
He flexes the offending thumb. “Barely.”
Sage smiles from the corner. Not forcing herself into the conversation, just enjoying ours.
Chance reaches for the thermos of coffee and pours a small amount into the lid cup, then hands it to Sage. “You sure you don’t mind being dragged into this?”
“Are you kidding?” She studies the mare. “This is incredible.”
Before Chance and I can have any coffee, the mare stamps once, and we straighten at the same time. Funny how some instincts never leave, even after all these years. Chance moves behind her while I take hold of her halter again.
She tosses her head up, but I keep my grip loose and steady, letting her move without fighting her.
Chance eyes Sage over his shoulder. “Would you grab those towels off the rail?”
She’s moving before the entire question is out, and when she hands them to him, he takes them with a distracted nod of thanks.
Her hair’s falling out of the loose ponytail she pulled it into as we drove here, dark strands framing her face. One sleeve of her shirt is shoved halfway up her arm, and sawdust clings to one knee of her jeans.
Back at the cabin, she reached for her camera before stopping herself. She hadn’t wanted to see this moment through a lens. She’d wanted to be part of it.
Chance shifts beside the mare, pulling my attention back to why we’re here. After checking the foal’s position again, he blows out a breath. “Head’s still a little off.”
“Worse?”
“Nah.” He strips off the glove and tosses it beside the first one. “But if she doesn’t get this foal moving soon, we’re gonna have problems.”
Sage’s eyes flick between us. “Could she die?”
“That’s why Doc’s on standby,” he says. “If she doesn’t start making progress soon, I’m calling him in.”
I run my hand down the mare’s neck, her coat hot and damp under my palm.
For years, my life has been airports and motel rooms and arenas packed with people screaming loud enough to vibrate my ribs. Standing here now, sawdust under my boots and my brother beside me, that life feels farther away than it has in years.
The mare paws at the bedding, then starts to circle. I move with her, keeping a loose hold on the halter.
Sage slips out of the way automatically, pressing against the wall as we approach. “You okay?” I murmur, hooking her fingers with mine.
She smiles down at our hands. “Yeah.”
I’ve just released her so we can pass by when another contraction hits, and the mare braces hard, nearly stumbling.
Chance moves instantly. “There we go. Hold her steady.”
He checks the foal again, working carefully, then relief loosens his expression. “Okay. He’s straightened out. Nose is between the legs now.”
The mare strains again.
“Come on, girl,” I mutter.
Sage takes a step forward, lifting her hands like she’s ready to help, but quickly comes to a stop.
Chance notices and says, “Actually, come here.”
She points at herself, her eyes widening. “Me?”
“Yeah. Stay up by her shoulder. Keep your hand on her neck. Calm and steady.”
She does as she’s instructed, moving carefully to the mare’s other shoulder, resting one tentative hand against her damp chestnut coat and murmuring soothing words.
The horse flicks an ear toward her voice, her nostrils flaring, but holds steady.
When the next contraction hits, she groans low in her throat, bracing, muscles shuddering under her skin.
“Come on, mama,” Chance mutters.
One tiny hoof appears, then the other a little behind it.
“Give her room,” Chance says, and Sage immediately backs away, eyes wide.
The mare turns once in the bedding, then lowers herself heavily onto her side. Another contraction tears through her, and she stretches out, legs rigid.
The foal’s nose appears above his forelegs.
“That’s it,” Chance encourages.
The mare groans again, and for a second, nothing happens. Then the foal slides free in a rush of fluid. As Sage exhales, Chance is already moving. I crouch beside him, years of muscle memory taking over.
The wet foal lies motionless in the straw, legs folded awkwardly. Chance clears the membrane from his nose while I grab one of the towels and rub it firmly over his neck and chest.
For one long second, nothing. Then his ribs jerk sharply and he sucks in a breath.
“There you go.” Chance looks up at me with a tired smile. “It’s a colt.”
The mare reaches around to nose at the little foal, nickering quietly. When he shakily lifts his head off the floor, Chance and I stand and step back, giving him and his mama some room.
The three of us watch in silence as the mare licks him vigorously, his damp, cream-colored coat beginning to fluff beneath her tongue as she dries him and encourages him to move.
He blinks, legs twitching beneath him. Soon, he stretches them out and tries to stand.
They splay awkwardly before he gets them under him, but his little body doesn’t get far off the ground before they give out.
After a few more tries, with the same sudden rush as the moment he was born, he’s upright, swaying unsteadily.
Chance chuckles. “Stubborn already.”
I huff a tired breath through my nose. “Runs in the bloodline.”
Beside me, Sage laughs under her breath.
I look down at her. There’s sawdust in her hair and dirt smudged along her jaw, but her eyes are shiny and her cheeks are flushed.
Fucking perfect.
She catches me watching her, and her lips tilt inquisitively. “What?”
“Just looking.”
Our gazes hold for a beat before the foal wobbles toward his mother, one leg sliding sideways before he catches himself again.
The movement steals Sage’s attention. “It’s incredible,” she whispers. “I didn’t think it’d feel like this.”
When the foal finds the teat and finally latches on, the mare blows out a long breath, ears flicking back. The remaining tension leaves Chance’s shoulders. He shakes his head. “Hell of a colt.”
“He better be,” I say. “Considering how much you paid.”
“Worth it if he turns out anything like his sire.”
Sage looks from me to my brother. “This is the one you bought at the auction?”
He nods. “If the colt’s strong…” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “It could mean a lot for Wild Ember.”
“No pressure,” she laughs.
I meet my brother’s eye over the top of her head and tip my chin at her.
He nods.
“This is your first foal. You get to name him,” I tell Sage.
Her eyes widen instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“Ranch rules,” Chance says.
“That’s not a real rule.”
I bite back a grin. “Remember what I said about rules?”
Rolling her lips together, she slants her gaze at me.
With a laugh, I prop myself up against the stall wall, taking a little of my weight off my feet for the first time in what feels like hours. Every muscle in my body suddenly feels heavy.
Sage looks down at the colt wobbling against his mother, a crease between her brows. Then a smile breaks across her face. “How about Trouble?”
Chance’s laugh startles the little guy, and he face-plants in the straw. “Yeah. That fits.”
“Definitely fits,” I mutter.
With a clap on my shoulder, my brother moves past me, heading for the tack room. “Still some coffee left if you want it.”
Then he’s gone, and the stall goes quiet.
Sage’s arm brushes mine, and she smiles as the colt bumps clumsily against his mother, still figuring out his legs. She’s transfixed by the animals, as if she’s forgotten the world outside this barn exists.
Standing here with her at my side, it hits me how little I want this to end.
Not this moment.
Not this night.
None of it.