Logan
My mom knew I was coming to see her, but she didn’t know I was bringing Ellie.
I doubted she’d mind, but I could already anticipate the look of surprise that would flash across her face. Typically, when I made the trip to see my parents, it was quick and solo. The “quick” part we could still manage, but solo? Not so much.
Ellie and I dressed nicer than usual. I wore a short-sleeved button-down, jeans, my good boots, and of course, my cowboy hat.
Ellie matched the vibe without even trying—her fitted button-down hugged her curves, her jeans fit like they were made for her, and her boots and hat pulled it all together.
We looked like a pair, and I loved every minute of it.
Walking through the rodeo grounds, there was no chance anyone would think we weren’t together—and honestly, I was fine with that. Maybe it’d keep some of the more curious stares off her.
Ellie cleaned up well, but it wasn’t flashy. She didn’t dress for attention. Her look was practical, suited for the rodeo, but that didn’t stop her from turning heads. She always did. She just had that quiet kind of beauty that made people look twice.
We had VIP passes, which meant we could head back to the warm-up area where my mom and dad were getting ready. Mom was third in the lineup tonight, and I was eager to see her run.
Barrel racing wasn’t for the faint of heart.
It took guts, precision, and damn good horsemanship to compete at the level my mom does.
She’d been racing since she was barely tall enough to reach the stirrups.
This was her dream. Traveling the country, riding hard, chasing the win. It was everything to her.
Honestly, I was proud of her. I saw a lot of myself in her—not because of her, necessarily, but from her. We shared that grit. That fire in the belly to keep pushing even when things got rough. I think that’s why life never fully managed to knock me down, even when it tried.
Sure, I could’ve let myself believe my parents neglected me. That my mom cared more about the next arena than about raising me. And maybe some of that was even true. But I’d learned a long time ago, I didn’t have to carry that weight if I didn’t want to. I got to choose how my story went.
Ellie and I walked through the tunnel and onto the dirt path. Riders passed us in the opposite direction, their boots dusty, their horses just ahead or trailing behind. I stayed close to Ellie.
At the end of the dim tunnel was a makeshift changing area. I knocked.
A beat later, the door creaked open and my dad filled the frame.
“Son,” he said, wide grin stretching his face before pulling me into a hug. He clapped my back twice—solid, familiar.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Is that Logan?” My mom called from behind him.
My dad’s gaze flicked to Ellie, who stood with her hands behind her back, a sweet smile playing on her lips.
“Hi, Mr. Walker,” she said gently.
His bushy brown eyebrows lifted high under the brim of his black cowboy hat. He was lean, all lanky limbs and not much muscle. I got my height from my mom. His mustache twitched on one side as he doffed his hat and gave Ellie a polite bow.
“A pleasure,” he said, placing the hat back on his head.
“It is Logan, darlin’, but he brought a guest,” he called out behind him.
My mom emerged from the dressing area in full show gear—bootcut jeans, designer riding shirt, black felt hat, her long blond hair curled to perfection, her makeup flawless.
We were mirror images of each other.
I’d always known I looked like my mom, but standing side by side now, it was almost uncanny.
As a baby, every photo of me looked like a mini version of her. I’d grown into sharper, more masculine features over time—my jaw more defined, my nose straighter—but the lips? The pouty curve was still identical.
“Wow,” Ellie said, eyes bouncing between me and my mom. “You two are identical.”
There it was, the reaction we got every single time.
Ellie had technically met my mom before, but that was years ago. Back then, when my parents passed through town, they rarely made time for my friends.
“You two look like carbon copies,” she added, hands on her hips, appraising us again.
Mom came up beside me, rising on her toes to tug our faces closer—hats knocking together as she did.
“Everyone always said I had Logan all by myself,” she teased, her smile beaming.
“I believe it, Mrs. Walker,” Ellie said, letting out a low whistle.
“Call me Jennie,” she said warmly. “I have to say, it’s a surprise to see you here.”
“We made a bit of a road trip out of it,” I replied with a casual shrug. “I wanted to come see you, and Ellie needed an excuse to head to the beach, so…”
I’d been planning that line. I knew she’d point out that Ellie was with me. But she accepted the answer with a smile, then stepped forward to hug Ellie.
“Logan told me how great you are at riding,” Ellie offered, the compliment easy and sincere.
“Oh, did he now?” My mom tossed me a wink. “Well, he also told me how good you are. Sounds like you’ve got a real way with horses.”
Ellie scoffed softly. “You could say that.”
“Come on, Ace. Don’t be shy,” I said, nudging her gently. “This girl can break any horse. She’s got one back home she’s planning to start working with once we get back.”
“A real stern one, huh?”
Ellie nodded. “Boone and my dad just brought her home. I’ll get through to her. I know I will. It’s the first thing on my to-do list.”
“Did you know Logan wanted to compete back in the day?” my dad chimed in.
“Oh?” Ellie turned to look at me, a spark of interest in her eyes.
“I mentioned that once. In middle school,” I muttered, brushing it off.
It had been a fleeting moment of trying to feel more connected to them. A kid’s hope. But I never really had the drive to travel or compete.
“I like the life I built on the ranch. It’s enough for me,” I added.
“My family practically treats him as their own,” Ellie said, stepping beside me and bumping her hip against mine with a grin.
My parents exchanged a glance—something soft and understanding passed between them—before they both looked back at us.
It never bothered them that I found a second family in the Cassidys. It might’ve looked strange from the outside, but for us, it worked. They were my parents, and I loved them, but they weren’t the ones who raised me day-to-day.
“You two look awfully cute together,” my mom said, shooting me another wink.
“Jen, come on now,” my dad said with a chuckle.
We did look good together, but hearing it pointed out by my mom made something stir deep inside me.
“You can’t tell me I’m wrong, Jett. Call it a mother’s instinct.”
“Or maybe it’s the fact that we’re matching,” Ellie teased, tipping her hat toward them.
“That too,” Mom agreed with a grin.
We talked for a little while longer about meeting up after the rodeo and about our drive back to Faircloud. Then Ellie and I made our way down the tunnel toward the arena, my arm draped over her shoulders, ready to watch my mom.
Just before we stepped out into the stands, Ellie stopped in her tracks. She turned, grabbed my face in both hands, and before I could ask what she was doing, she pulled me down and kissed me. Long. Intentional. Certain.
The sound in the arena grew quieter because all I could do was focus on her. If one kiss had me feeling this way…
When she pulled back, I blinked, breathless. “What was that for?” I asked with a laugh, falling back into stride with her.
“You talk to your mom about me,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Of course I do,” I said, leaning closer as we walked. “All the time.”
“I don’t think I want this trip to end,” Ellie said softly.
And truthfully, I felt the same way.
We sat on the bench reserved for us—prime seats with a sweeping view of the entire arena. From here, you could see it all: every run, every ride, every flicker of adrenaline under the arena lights. But all I saw was her.
I reached over and placed my hand on her upper thigh, a gesture both casual and deeply intentional. She didn’t hesitate—her hand found mine in return, her thumb tracing lazy circles over my skin.
For the rest of the show, we kept finding each other.
In bumps of the shoulder, brushes of fingers, whispered laughs that drew us closer together with every act.
What was happening didn’t feel like only friendship anymore, not really.
Not after the kisses. Not after the sunset.
Not after the way she looked at me like I was more than her brother’s best friend, more than the kid she grew up with.
We were feeling this thing unfold between us—acknowledging the attraction we’d both carried, quiet and unspoken, for far too long.
Just like Ellie said, I didn’t want this trip to end.
Because in the back of my mind, there was this restless itch, this lingering fear that maybe when we left, this…
whatever was happening, would end with it.
That the touches would stop. That the looks would fade.
That the kisses would become nothing more than a memory.
Back to me, madly in love with the girl and desperate for the moment to tell her.
But that wasn’t enough for me.
I needed more.
More of her time.
More of her touch.
More of her mouth on mine.
I was a man who finally got a taste of the thing he’d been starving in silence for, for fifteen damn years.
And I had no plans of letting it slip through my fingers now.
I just hoped she felt the same.
Because once I set my sights on something, once I believed I had a real chance, I wasn’t the kind of man to back down. Not ever.
I reached for her, gently tugging her into my lap as the next act was announced. I didn’t care who was competing. The arena lights could have gone out and the dirt could have swallowed the stage whole, and I still wouldn’t have noticed. Not with her here.
My hands found familiar places—her lower back, the curve of her waist, her arms. I kissed her cheek, slow and reverent, breathing her in like she was peace itself. She melted into every touch, leaned into every glance.
She didn’t pull away.
She didn’t push me off.
Instead, she gave me those quiet little looks—playful and longing—and let her fingers trail absentmindedly down my forearm like she was memorizing me. Like she didn’t want it to end either.
But still… neither of us said the things we both seemed to feel.
And it left the space between us heavy with the weight of all the words left unspoken.