Page 26 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)
I reached out, slow and deliberate, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t flinch, just closed her eyes and leaned into my hand. I wanted to kiss her, but I held back, not wanting to rush the moment.
She opened her eyes, and for a second, I saw everything she was feeling—fear, hope, the wild possibility that we could have something real.
“I’m scared,” she said, so quiet I almost didn’t hear her.
“Me too,” I said. “But I want this.”
She nodded, then pushed up onto her toes and kissed me.
At first, it was gentle. Just lips, soft and warm, her hands folded into the front of my shirt.
But then she pulled me in closer, and the kiss deepened—hungry, urgent, like she was trying to drink me in.
I held her by the waist, pressing her into the wall of the stable, heart hammering so hard I was sure she could feel it.
Her hands slid up to my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.
I lifted her, just a little, enough so that she didn’t have to stretch, and she made a noise in the back of her throat that almost undid me.
My own hands roamed, finding the dip of her back, the curve of her hip, the faint ridges of scars that only made me want to protect her more.
The world narrowed to the taste of her, the scent of vanilla overpowering all else, the feeling of her body pressed so tight against mine I could barely think.
We kissed until we were breathless, until the only thing keeping me upright was the wall behind us and the need to stay right here, in this moment, forever.
She pulled back, eyes shining, lips swollen and pink. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” she whispered.
“Me too.”
We stood like that for a while, just holding each other. Eventually, she rested her head on my chest, and I stroked her hair, the feel of it like silk under my fingertips.
“We should probably get back,” she said, though I could tell she didn’t want to.
“They might start a search party if we don’t,” I agreed.
We walked back to the house in silence, her hand in mine, both of us grinning like idiots.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of chocolate syrup and melted ice cream.
Gray and Eryn were on the couch, watching a cartoon with the kids sprawled across their laps, Abby curled up like a cat and Noah half-asleep with a spoon still in his hand.
The mood was different now, though—quieter, heavier.
Walker’s mouth was tight, and Eryn and Caroline kept glancing at their phones with a look I didn’t like.
Lily noticed it, too. “Everything okay?” she asked, voice light but wary.
Eryn forced a smile. “Of course. Just bedtime for the munchkins.”
Walker leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Ford, can I talk to you outside for a sec?”
My gut went cold. “Sure,” I said.
We stepped out onto the porch. The wind had picked up, rattling the windchimes. For a long moment, Walker didn’t say anything. He just stared out at the fields, then pulled out his phone and handed it to me.
The screen was open to the Whittier Falls Gazette, but the headline at the top wasn’t about the weather, or cattle futures, or anything I wanted to see.
VIRAL TRUE CRIME PODCAST UNVEILS NEW EVIDENCE IN DEATH OF TY HIGGINS. HOSTS CLAIM LOCAL TECH BILLIONAIRE FORD brOOKS IS NUMBER ONE SUSPECT.
The words hit me like a punch. I could hear my pulse thumping in my ears.
Walker watched my face, then said, “I thought you should know. It’s everywhere. Not just here—national, maybe even more.”
I kept reading, but the words didn’t make sense.
Some podcast had dug up the twenty-year-old rumors about me and Ty, dredged up my dad’s name, and—worse—found some “new” evidence that the old sheriff had missed.
The article didn’t say what, just that the podcaster promised “bombshell revelations” in the next episode.
I wanted to throw the phone into the cornfield. I wanted to be sick.
“Who else knows?” I asked, but my voice didn’t sound like mine.
“Everyone,” Walker said. “It’s blowing up on Facebook, Twitter, the works. My mom already called me twice.”
A surge of panic slammed through me. My mother, barely surviving. Lily, who’d just started to trust me. Noah, who would have to live in a town where everyone thought his mom was dating a murderer.
If she didn’t cut this off now. I wouldn’t blame her.
I handed the phone back, jaw clenched. “I’m sorry,” I said, though I didn’t know who I was apologizing to.
Walker shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, man.
But you gotta get ahead of this. Talk to Gray and Eryn, figure out what you want to say.
Eryn’s good with public relations stuff.
I’m sure you got contacts for lawyers now.
You might want to call them. And Lily . .
.” He hesitated. “She deserves to know the truth. All of it.”
I nodded, numb.
We went back inside. The house was silent now—cartoons off, kids shuttled to a guest room, Eryn and Lily waiting at the kitchen table. Eryn poured two shots of whiskey and slid one to me. I swallowed it in one gulp, the burn barely registering.
Lily touched my arm, concern written all over her face. “Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth, but the words tangled. “I don’t know,” I said finally.
She waited, patient as ever.
I sat down at the table, stared at my hands. For a second, I caught a glimpse of her hair tangled in my fingers, the flush in her cheeks when we kissed. I’d have given anything to go back to that for just one more minute.
I wanted to hold onto that memory, because I knew it wouldn’t last.