Page 130 of 11 Cowboys

My mouth opens, then closes. I feel like a goddamn fish and a fool.

I clear my throat. “We— I—”

Brody cuts in, stepping past me. “What Conway means to say is that we’ve come to tell you we were wrong.”

She blinks, startled. That gets through.

“We read the article,” Dylan adds, stepping up beside me. “The one that actually had your voice in it. The one you meant for the world to read. And we don’t care about the rest, the edits, the headlines, or what the damn internet has to say about anything.”

“We want you home,” Brody says. “Where you belong.”

Dylan leans against her desk, folding his arms across his chest. “The kids miss you, Grace. Levi hasn’t told a joke since you left. Nash keeps muttering to the horses. Jaxon’s scowl has turned at least three heifers to stone. Corbin keeps checking the porch like you’re gonna show up with a smile and a pot roast. Lennon is reorganizing the pantry again. McCartney has been singing the blues. Harrison’s given up teaching math, and Cody hasn’t smiled. That’s how bad it is.”

That earns a soft, almost reluctant snort from Grace. But her lips press tight again too fast.

My turn.

I step forward, heart in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I say, voice rough. “I should’ve let you talk. I should’ve trusted you’d never hurt us like that on purpose. I need to be better at listening… and staying calm. I was so wrong, Grace. And I’ve messed up everything for everyone.”

Her mouth trembles.

“I miss you, Grace,” I add. “We all do. From the moment you drove up to the ranch in that rental car, dressed for a city meeting, you got under our skin. I can’t tell you our kind of love is soft, Grace. We spend so much time grinding out a living from the dirt, talking to men and beasts, that we forget how to be what women need. But if you come back, our love will be steady. It’ll be about showing up, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Her eyes seem glassy, but there’s a deadness in her eyes that is breaking my heart.

Dylan unfolds his arms and takes a step closer. “I know I don’t say much, Grace. I wish I could… I’ve never been good with words, but I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I mean it when I say I want you in our lives, for me but for me and Eli and Junie, too. They love you. We all love you.”

She looks at us then, and her fear is there, plain as day.

Brody glances at me with panic, widening his eyes. He’s a man of few words. He closed himself down a long time ago, so I have no expectations that he’s going to do anything other than show up, but he surprises me.

“I know I’ve been mostly silent about this arrangement, Grace. I didn’t want to try because I didn’t believe it could work. But don’t mistake my silence for indifference. I tried not to feel anything, but I feel more for you than I’ve ever let myself feel for anyone outside of my family. Will you come home… with us?”

Her hand rises to her mouth, trapping behind it words or emotions she doesn’t want to release, but then she says, quiet, shaky, but clear, “I can’t.”

My breath stalls.

She shakes her head, swallowing hard. “Something’s happened. You don’t know. And when you find out…” Her voice breaks. “You won’t want me anymore.”

Tears spill over her lashes. She tries to swipe them away fast like they’re a weakness she’s ashamed of, and it fuckingbreaks me.

She’s crying, and I can’t stand it because she’s breaking right in front of us and completely failing to understand we want her.

“Grace,” I say softly, stepping closer. “Look at me.”

She doesn’t. So I say her name again, this time with more force. “Grace.”

Her eyes lift to mine, glassy and wet. There’s so much pain behind them, I want to break something.

“You think there’s a truth out there that could make us walk away from you?” I ask. “After everything we’ve shared? After you held our babies, cooked in our kitchen, danced barefoot in our dirt, and cried out in our beds?”

Her chin wobbles. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make us understand,” Dylan says gently. “We’re here, aren’t we? You think we came all this way for nothing?”

Brody nods. “Whatever it is, Grace… we don’t care.”

She sways like the weight of it all might pull her under, then mutters, “You haven’t seen the hashtag.”