Chapter 15
CAITLIN
I was spending more nights at the ranch than at my own place.
It wasn't a conscious decision. It just... happened. One overnight bag turned into a drawer in Blaine's dresser. A toothbrush by the sink. A spare set of scrubs in the closet for early morning emergencies.
The practical part of my brain—the part that had gotten me through vet school and residency and building a practice from scratch—kept trying to pump the brakes. This is too fast. You just got out of a relationship. You barely know him.
But another part of me—a part I hadn't listened to in years—whispered something different. This is exactly where you're supposed to be.
I'd spent my whole life being careful. Measured.
Strategic. Every decision weighed and analyzed, every risk calculated down to the decimal point.
It was how I'd survived—first my parents' expectations, then the brutal competition of veterinary medicine, then a relationship that looked perfect on paper but felt like wearing shoes that were half a size too small.
This thing with Blaine didn't fit any of my careful calculations. And maybe that was exactly the point.
"You know," Jess said during our weekly call, "most people wait at least a month before they start leaving stuff at a guy's place."
"It's been almost a month."
"Three weeks."
"Close enough."
"You're U-Hauling. You know that, right? This is classic lesbian U-Hauling behavior, except you're straight."
"I'm not U-Hauling. I'm just... conveniently located."
"At your boyfriend's ranch. Every night."
"Not every night."
"Name the last night you slept at your own place."
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
"That's what I thought." Jess laughed. "I'm not judging. I'm impressed. You've never moved this fast with anyone."
She was right. With Preston, everything had been slow and deliberate. Six months before we said "I love you." A year before we moved in together. Every milestone checked off according to some invisible timeline that I thought meant we were doing things right.
Turns out, doing things "right" and doing the right thing aren't the same at all.
"It doesn't feel fast," I said. I was sitting on the porch swing, watching the sun set over the pastures, the phone pressed to my ear.
The sky was doing that thing it did out here—painting itself in shades of orange and pink that would look fake in a photograph.
"It feels... right. Like I've been waiting for this without knowing I was waiting. "
"That's either really romantic or really terrifying."
"Both. Definitely both."
"And the ex? Any word from Preston?"
"Radio silence. Which is fine." I tucked my feet under me, pulling Blaine's flannel tighter around my shoulders.
I'd started stealing his shirts. Another thing I'd never done with Preston—he was particular about his clothes, didn't like them stretched or wrinkled.
Blaine just smiled when he saw me in his flannel and said I looked better in it anyway.
"Better than fine, actually. I thought I'd feel guilty.
Or sad. Or something. But I just feel... relieved."
"Because you're too busy having incredible sex to feel anything else."
"That's not—" I stopped. "Okay, that's partially true."
"I knew it." I could hear the grin in her voice. "Tell me everything."
"Absolutely not."
"You're no fun."
"I'm very fun. Ask Blaine."
Jess cackled. "Look at you! Getting all confident and glowy. I love this for you."
"I love it too." I watched a hawk circle over the far pasture, riding the thermals with effortless grace. "I really do."
After we hung up, I sat there a while longer, watching the light fade.
Somewhere in the barn, horses were settling in for the night.
I could hear their soft sounds—the occasional nicker, the shuffle of hooves in straw.
It was becoming familiar. Comforting. Like a heartbeat I hadn't known I was missing.
I thought about the girl I'd been in vet school—driven, ambitious, so focused on proving herself that she forgot to ask what she actually wanted. That girl would have looked at this ranch, at this life, and seen it as a step backward. A detour from the prestigious career path she'd mapped out.
Funny how the detours sometimes take you exactly where you need to go.
The next afternoon, Blaine found me in the barn with a grin on his face.
"I want to show you something," he said. "My favorite spot on the whole ranch. Grab your jacket—we can take the truck."
I looked at him—this man who'd arrived knowing nothing about ranch life and was slowly, stubbornly falling in love with it—and made a decision.
"Or," I said, "we could ride."
His grin faltered. "Ride? As in horses?"
"That's generally how it works on a ranch." I tilted my head. "When's the last time you rode?"
"Define 'rode.'"
"Sat on one. Made it move. Didn't fall off."
He winced. "Fifteen years? Maybe more? Grandpa used to take me out when I was a teenager, but..."
"Fifteen years." I couldn't help but smile. "Well, you own a horse ranch now. Time to get back in the saddle. Literally."
He looked uncertain for a moment, then the excitement crept back into his expression. "You'll help me? Refresh my memory?"
"That's what I'm here for." I patted his arm. "You're the boss. I'm the expert. Let's see if we can make a horseman out of you yet."
"Okay." He took a breath, the excitement winning out over the uncertainty. "Which horse should I ride?"
"Which horse do you want to ride?"
"Cisco?"
I hesitated. Cisco was a stallion—not the typical choice for a rusty rider. But I'd seen the bond between them. Cisco trusted Blaine, and that counted for a lot.
"Cisco's a stallion," I said carefully. "They can be unpredictable."
"He's also the only horse on this ranch who actually likes me."
"That's not true. Starlight likes you."
"Starlight tolerates me because I helped save her baby." He scratched the back of his neck. "Cisco actually comes to me. Nuzzles me. It's... different."
I considered it. Cisco was well-trained, steady for a stallion, and Blaine was right—the connection mattered. A horse that trusted its rider was safer than a calm horse that didn't.
"Okay," I said. "Cisco it is. But I'm giving you a refresher before we go anywhere."
"Yes, ma'am."
I found Hector in the tack room and asked about borrowing a horse.
"Take Duke," he said, nodding toward a bay gelding in the cross-ties. "He's the ranch horse. Steady, sensible. Good on trails."
"Thanks, Hector."
He glanced toward the paddock where Blaine was already feeding Cisco a carrot. "He's taking the boy out?"
"He wants to show me some place he used to go as a kid."
Hector's weathered face softened almost imperceptibly. "The creek. Earl's fishing spot."
"You know it?"
"Helped build the trail forty years ago." He was quiet for a moment. "Earl used to take the boy there every summer. Taught him to fish. To swim." A pause. "He hasn't been back since Earl passed."
My throat tightened. This wasn't just a trail ride. This was Blaine reconnecting with something—someone—he'd lost.
"I'll take care of him," I said.
Hector nodded once. "I know you will."
Getting Blaine on a horse was an adventure.
He remembered the basics—sort of. Mounting from the left, heels down, shoulders back. But his muscle memory was rusty, and his nerves made him stiff.
"Relax," I said, adjusting his stirrups. "Cisco can feel your tension. If you're tight, he'll be tight."
"Easy for you to say. You do this every day."
"And you run a tech company. We all have our skills." I checked his girth, gave Duke a pat, and swung into my own saddle with the ease of a thousand repetitions. "Just breathe. Let your hips move with him. Don't fight it."
"Don't fight it," he repeated, gripping the reins too tightly.
"Softer hands. You're not arm-wrestling him—you're communicating." I reached over and loosened his fingers. "There. Think of it like holding a conversation, not giving orders."
Cisco stood patiently through all of this, occasionally turning his head to look at Blaine as if to say, Are we doing this or not?
"Okay," Blaine said, taking a breath. "I'm ready."
"Gentle squeeze with your legs. He'll walk."
Blaine squeezed. Cisco walked. And the smile that spread across Blaine's face was worth every minute of the lesson.
"I'm doing it," he said, sounding genuinely amazed.
"You're walking. Don't get cocky."
"Too late. I'm basically a cowboy now."
I laughed and nudged Duke forward to ride beside him. "Lead the way, cowboy. Show me this creek."
The trail wound through oak-dotted hills and golden grassland, following a path that generations of Hartleys had worn into the earth. Blaine rode carefully at first, focused on his balance, but gradually he relaxed into the rhythm of Cisco's walk.
"It's coming back to me," he said, sounding surprised. "The feeling of it."
"Bodies remember. Even when minds forget."
He was quiet for a moment, looking out at the land—his land now, though I knew he still struggled to think of it that way.
"Grandpa used to say that this trail was older than the ranch," he said. "That the original Hartleys just followed where the deer and the cattle had already gone."
"Smart. Animals usually know the best routes."
"He knew a lot. About the land, the animals, how everything connected.
" Blaine adjusted his grip on the reins—softer now, more natural.
"I didn't appreciate it then. I was always thinking about getting back to the city, back to my friends, back to my computer.
This felt like... I don't know. A nice place to visit but not real life. "
"And now?"
"Now I wonder how I ever thought anything else was real life." He looked at me. "San Francisco, the company, all of it—it feels like a dream I woke up from. This feels real. Solid."
"Even with Cole? Even with everything?"