Page 132 of 11 Cowboys

She looks at me and shakes her head. “Of course not. Don’t you realize how hot you look? Half the office is dribbling, and the other half is jealous.”

I snort and shake my head, but my attention drifts to the cubicle farm outside the glass and the sea of faces looking our way.

“I wish I had my hat and boots here right now.” She looks around her office, still seeming lost. “I need to quit. Not just because of the article. This job… it’s never been what I truly wanted.”

I nod. “Then we’ll help you figure out what comes next. Whatever it is.”

She takes my hand again, this time with intention.

“Take me home,” she whispers.

God, I’ve been waiting to hear those words since the moment she walked away.

I grip her hand tighter. “Let’s go.”

We turn, walking toward the exit with her tucked between us where she belongs.

Behind us, her office fades into the background.

Ahead of us? Home. All the people who mean the world to me under one roof.

And finally, Grace. The last puzzle piece.

49

LEVI

The porch creaks under my boots as I shift my weight, cigarette burning down to the filter between my fingers. It’s one of too many tonight, but I can’t relax without it. The stars are obnoxiously bright, and the only sound is the occasional coyote calling out in the hills. Everyone else is inside, grabbing what sleep they can before sunrise. But I can’t sleep.

I’ve got this gnawing in my chest. Been there since the day Grace left, and I let her walk away without saying what needed to be said. I keep telling myself she forgot it. That night, the way I bailed. It seemed like she forgave me. But what if she didn’t?

What if she’s carrying it like a bruise I gave her?

I was scared, plain and simple. Scared of feeling too much. Of never being enough. Scared that if she saw the real me, she wouldn’t want me.

I keep my eyes on the long gravel drive, like maybe if I look hard enough, the truck will show up sooner. The only light out here is from the porch and the smiling moonoverhead, but I know the shape of that truck even in pitch black.

I’ve been playing and replaying that day she left like it’s stuck on a loop I can’t stop.

I was out working while her heart was breaking.

I’ve never believed I was a man who could hold on to something good, and maybe I’m still not. But if she’s coming back and if she’s willing to give us another shot after everything, then I sure as hell better figure out how to be the man she needs.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel snaps me upright. Headlights flare across the yard as the truck pulls in. I grind the cigarette into the railing and stand, my heart pounding so hard it makes my throat tight.

Conway’s at the wheel, Dylan beside him. Brody climbs out from the back, grabbing a duffel from the backseat. Dylan swings out of the passenger side, reaching for a backpack and the satchel Grace always kept for her notebooks and laptop. Conway shoulders the tote that’s way too heavy to be full of anything but books. None of them say anything. They move like they already know she’s staying. Like this is right. Like she’s ours.

And she’s there. She’s really there.

Grace.

She slides out carefully, her head turning as she takes in the house, the porch, the night wrapped around her like a memory she isn’t sure she’s allowed to step back into. She’s silhouetted against the truck’s lights, her hair loose, and wearing a linen blazer. I can’t even breathe right.

I take the steps two at a time.

I can’t wait. I jog across the gravel and close the distance between us.

“Grace,” I say, but it comes out raw like it’s torn through too much regret to sound like anything else.