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DYLAN

I lie in bed, staring at the warped knot of wood in the ceiling above me. It’s familiar. Been staring at it for years. It usually grounds me, but tonight, it’s useless.

The faint sounds of Beau’s claws on the wooden floor downstairs and the wind rattling the side of the house have kept me awake. And earlier it was voices; hers, Nash’s and Cody’s. I didn’t have to hear much to know what was happening.

Four of us now.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the wave of anxiety I hate myself for feeling. It shouldn’t mean anything. We’ve been here before. We’ve had women laugh, love, touch, and promise to stay, then run at the first real challenge or the realization that we’re too much.

They always leave, and she will, too.

But the idea of Grace going is a rock I can’t push off my chest. This article is supposed to bring us lots of candidates to choose from, but the idea of rooting through pages of more women, only to be disappointed, fills me with dread.

Wanting Grace is an idiot move, and it’s one I can’t forgive myself for.

I’ve already made plenty of mistakes when it comes to women.

Shouldn’t I have learned my lesson by now?

We might be too much—this ranch, eleven cowboys, six kids, and a dog—but Grace is, too. She’s too clever, too bubbly, too independent, too classy, too sassy, too high-powered… just too much, and yet, right in so many ways.

I shift onto my side, careful I don’t wake Eli, who’s snuggled under the blanket on the pull-out bed across the room. She has nightmares sometimes and crawls in to find me.

I tighten my jaw. That’s what keeps me here. The kids. The land. The brothers and cousins I’d bleed for.

Not the dream the rest have of love despite all odds. Nora took any hope I had of love with her.

I reach over to the nightstand and trail my fingers across the boot box still tucked under the lamp.

I ordered them after that night in the barn, and when Grace laughed with Junie in the yard, twirling her like she was the only girl in the whole damn world.

I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.

I told myself I wouldn’t get involved, but even the most barren heart can experience a spark of hope, it seems.

Lennon collected them from the store, and still, I haven’t had the courage to give them to Grace. At the time, I thought she’d think they meant more than they did. Now I’m worried they mean more than I wanted them to mean only days ago.

I blow out a sharp breath, roll back onto my back, and glare at the ceiling again.

Tomorrow , I tell myself. Tomorrow, I’ll take the kids out, get my head on straight. Get back to what I know: my family, the cattle, fences and dirt, and the hard graft that keeps my churning thoughts quiet.

The things that keep a man going, despite it all.

** *

The morning air hits cold and sharp against my skin as I saddle the horses.

When I told him my plan, Harrison wasn’t keen on disrupting the kids’ learning schedule, but something in my expression cut his argument off at the root.

My girls tumble out of the house in a tangle of coats, boots, and wild hair.

Junie runs straight to her favorite miniature pony, and I help her clamber up, but Eli hangs back. She always does.

“C’mon, darlin’,” I say gently, crouching down so we’re eye to eye. “You wanna ride with me today?”

She chews her bottom lip, then nods once and lets me lift her up into the saddle with me. I swing my leg over and click my tongue. The horse lumbers forward into the wide paddock.

The sky is bright but pale. The land stretches endlessly in every direction.

Riding’s the one place I can breathe without thinking too hard, as the bulk of the horse moving fluidly beneath me fills me with a sense of power.

I lead Junie’s pony next to us, and she chatters away to it like it’s her best friend and understands every word.

Eli leans her head back against my chest and lets out a soft sigh.

“Daddy?” she says after a long silence.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I like her.”

My hands tighten ever so slightly on the reins. “Who?” It’s a stupid question, but it comes out anyway.

“Grace.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

“She tells good stories. Plays games. Does our hair pretty. Makes pancakes better than anyone, even Uncle Corbin.”

I huff a low laugh at that, my heart squeezing tight in my chest.

“She makes Junie laugh. And Beau follows her around like she’s the boss.”

Her small voice drifts away as we ride. I let the quiet settle. The horse’s hooves thud steady against the ground. I should be happy. Eli’s smiling more. The house feels warmer since Grace arrived. But the weight in my gut says different. I know what happens when the bright ones go.

I’ve lived it.

And I won’t let my kids break again.

***

The sun’s a little higher now, the chill easing off as we circle back toward the barn. I swing down first, then lift Eli from the saddle. She runs off with Junie, Matty, and the twins who were waiting for their return, Beau trotting after them like he’s shepherding them.

I lean against the fence, arms folded, watching the kids race and shriek and climb over things they shouldn’t.

Boots scuff the dirt beside me, but I don’t look over.

I don’t need to. I know the gait of every man in this place.

My brother, Cody, slaps his palms on the top rail and lets out a long breath. “They look happy.”

“Yeah.”

He leans sideways, his shoulder bumping mine lightly. “You’re brooding.”

“Don’t start.”

He chuckles low. “Not startin’. Just observin’.”

I grunt and tug at my collar, which feels too tight.

Cody quiets for a second, then glances my way. “You heard, didn’t you?”

I don’t answer because I don’t need to. My room’s next to Nash’s. I’d have to be dead to miss the ruckus from last night.

“Me and Nash…” He pauses. “It’s a test, see. We have to know if she can do this. Waiting… it doesn’t make sense when it’s the thing that’s broken the others.” He nods slowly, watching the horizon. “She ain’t like the others, Dyl. I think she might stay.”

The weight in my chest twists harder. “They all seem like they might stay… right up until the day they don’t.”

Cody exhales. “Maybe. But you know what Conway says. Can’t win the lottery if you don’t buy a ticket. ”

I glance sideways. Cody’s smirking like he knows it’s a dumb-ass line, but he believes it anyway. He has a faint hickey on his neck, left behind by Grace’s hungry mouth.

“Yeah.” My voice is rough. Tiredness bleeds through me. “Well, I haven’t exactly been on a winning streak, and I ain’t sure how many more times I can afford to lose, Cody.”

***

Later that afternoon, after the horses are settled and the chores are mostly squared away, I take Eli with me to check the fence line by the east paddock. It’s her favorite, and it’s enough responsibility to feel important, but not so much that it weighs her down.

She walks beside me in her little boots, hands stuffed into her pockets, face serious, eyes darting from post to post, like she’s memorizing the land. Her hair is braided neatly and tied at the bottom with thin pink ribbons that are a woman’s work.

“Is Miss Grace gonna come out today?” she asks, voice soft but clear.

I glance down, surprised. Eli rarely starts conversations, and this is the second time today. “Maybe.”

“She read us a book last night,” Eli continues. “Did the funny voices and everything.”

I hum, nodding, giving her space to say what’s on her mind.

“And she let me sit in her lap even though my jeans were muddy.” Eli kicks at a rock, then looks up at me under dark lashes.

The air stills around me. She’s so pretty, like her momma, that sometimes it’s hard to look at her.

I swallow hard.

“Do you like her, Daddy?”

My throat closes tight until I swallow it open again. “Yeah, baby girl,” I manage. “I like her, too.”

I don’t say the rest, and that’s what scares me .

We keep walking, and I watch Eli smile as Beau bounds out of the brush ahead of us, chasing grasshoppers like a deranged kangaroo. My boots feel heavier with every step.

The more Grace weaves into the fabric of our lives, the more it’ll hurt when she eventually pulls free.

I know that love can’t be forced. Sometimes, even when it’s there, nestling in your heart, it dries up and blows away like tumbleweed.

But I wish I could protect my girls from the heartache of loving and losing when they’re too little to understand.

***

Later, after supper, I find myself leaning on the top rail of the paddock fence, watching the sky melt from gold to deep purple. The kids are inside with Harrison and Lennon. I need a minute to breathe.

Conway appears beside me, arms folded, hat tipped back enough to show his steady expression. “Heavy thinking, huh?”

I grunt. “You don’t know the half of it.”

There’s three years between us, but most of the time it feels like nothing. He’s always taken the leadership role in the place, but I’ve had the failed marriage and the kids, so maybe that’s what puts us more on an even footing.

He watches the horizon for a while before speaking again. “I’m not standing in the same place as you. I get it. I understand all your fears, Dylan. I want you to know that.”

I cut him a sharp look.

“And I ain’t saying you’re wrong for worrying. But I can tell you this: that woman in there is the first to cross our threshold who has the backbone for the burden and bliss of this family. She’s the first to bond with those kids and find a way to engage with every man on this ranch, even Brody.”

“She’s friendly,” I say flatly. “And inquisitive. That doesn't mean shit.”

“She’s lonely, too.”

I snap my head in his direction, studying his profile and the faraway look he fosters when he’s talking about the only woman under our roof .

“Lonely?”

“You don’t feel it?”

Maybe I do. Maybe, it’s why I bought those damned boots because I wanted to show her she’s worth something in my eyes. That she’s seen, even over something small and practical.

“Lonely isn’t a good reason to stay.”

“We all need companionship, Dylan. Maybe it’s the best reason to stay.”

I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “It’ll wreck the kids if we get this wrong again.”

Conway nods, still serious, but then the corner of his mouth twitches. “Then let’s get it right.”

The last light slips behind the hills. We stand there a while longer, two men staring down the barrel of hope, fear, and the endless unknown of our unpredictable future.

***

When I finally return, the kids are asleep, sprawled in tangled piles of blankets and stuffed animals. Rory’s soft little snores drift through the cracked door. I sneak in to press a kiss on Eli’s forehead and then Junie’s before easing the bedroom door shut.

I walk back to my room and stare at the boot box that’s still unopened, still heavy with unspoken intent.

I lift the lid and smile despite myself.

The boots are ridiculous, made of the softest leather and bright bubblegum pink, with silver stitching curling over the toes.

I remember Grace’s first day here, and how her city shoes were ruined in minutes, and the night of the storm when she crossed the yard in the rain in borrowed boots that swamped her feet.

I knew then she needed something that’d hold up better.

Something that said this place has a way of claiming you and now you belong.

I wanted something that would show that we don’t want to change her.

This place has enough brown boots. We don’t need anymore.

I hesitate only once before stepping into the hall, boots in hand. My strides are nearly silent on the worn floorboards. I pause outside her door, hearing Beau snoring faintly somewhere down the hall.

For a long moment, I’m swamped by doubts pressing hard against my ribs.

Then, I set the box gently on the mat. I don’t knock. I don’t speak. She might not even be inside. Maybe she’s with Nash and Cody again. Maybe with any mix of the other men in this house. I leave it there like a question or a challenge; like a damn hope I can’t vocalize.

If she opens the box tomorrow… if she puts them on…

Maybe she isn’t just passing through.

Maybe she’s thinking of doing what we’re all hoping she’ll do, even Brody.

Maybe she’ll stay.