Page 29

Over the past few weeks, Colt and I had been busy moving his things from the main house to the guesthouse. It was a lot of work—hauling boxes, rearranging furniture, finding places for his boots and flannels.

I enjoyed the mundane tasks because they gave me something I needed—a distraction. Keeping my hands busy helped hold back the wave of grief I’d been dreading all week.

But today was the day.

The anniversary of my parents’ death.

The day the universe ripped them away from me.

This morning, I woke up overwhelmed, my chest tight before I even opened my eyes. I hadn’t said a word, but Colt knew. He always seemed to know.

So, to make me feel better, Colt started the day with breakfast in bed.

“One order of French toast,” he said, smiling as he sat the tray across my lap, “with fresh fruit and a cup of coffee—extra cream, just like you like it. ”

I sat up slowly, a soft smile tugging at my lips. The plate held thick slices of golden toast, topped with the berries I’d picked up at the farmers market earlier in the week. The coffee smelled perfect, too.

It was simple. Thoughtful. Full of love.

And completely unlike anything Jason had ever done for me.

The last two years, he never even acknowledged the day.

The first year, I’d almost been grateful for that. Pretending it was just another day felt easier than facing the storm of memories waiting for me.

But the second year, I knew better.

He wasn’t protecting me. He was avoiding me.

Jason went to work like it was any other day. He came home, barely looked at me, and spent the evening on the phone with his friends, laughing at whatever inside jokes they had before going to bed without saying goodnight.

As if I wasn’t sitting there, crumbling quietly.

As if I wasn’t reliving the worst day of my life.

I looked down at the breakfast Colt had made me—at the perfect golden slices of French toast, the drizzle of syrup, the fresh fruit arranged with care. And then I noticed the whipped cream, shaped like a heart.

My chest tightened in the best kind of way.

It wasn’t just breakfast.

I took a deep breath, trying to hold back the happy tears.

“This is amazing Colt. So thoughtful, truly. ”

He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek before turning to Sadie. “Come on, girl. Let’s get you ready for your morning walk.”

Colt headed into the kitchen to find her collar, while I began eating my breakfast.

When I finished eating, I slipped into a fresh pair of jeans and a simple tank top. I paused at the mirror, brushing a wrinkle from my shirt before locking eyes with my reflection.

You can do this, Ellie.

You are loved.

You have everyone on McKinley Ranch standing beside you.

This year will be different.

Maybe I didn’t fully believe it yet—but I wanted to. I whispered the words out loud this time, like saying them might help me believe them more.

“I can do this,” I said again. “I will do this.”

A moment later, Colt walked in with Sadie right behind him, tail wagging.

“You ready?” he asked. “I figured after the walk, we could swing by the main house and grab the last couple of boxes.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I said, managing a smile.

As we made our way towards the main house, Colt held onto Sadie’s leash while I cradled my cup of coffee between both hands. I didn’t care that it was the middle of summer. Nothing kicked off a day quite like a warm cup of coffee.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the dirt path. Sadie trotted happily ahead, her tail swishing like she was just as excited to be outside as we were.

“So,” Colt started, glancing over at me, “later I was thinking about taking you somewhere. Nothing fancy—you don’t have to dress up or anything. Just thought it might be nice to get out of the house for a bit.” He paused, then added with a grin, “But it’s a surprise.”

I raised a brow. “Should I be scared?”

He smirked. “Don’t worry, I ran the idea past my mom, Molly, and Cassie. They all signed off on it, so I think you’re safe.”

“Oh great,” I said, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “You really know how to build suspense. Now I’m even more intrigued.”

“We can head out after we get the last of the boxes,” Colt said as we made our way up the steps of the main house.

“Well, let’s get this party started then. What do we have left?” I asked.

“Just what’s left in my closet,” Colt said, opening the front door that led to the entry way. “It’s only a couple small boxes of old pictures and my baseball card collection.”

“Easy peasy,” I said with a grin, heading towards his old bedroom while Colt unclipped Sadie’s leash.

“You be good now. No chewing,” I heard him say, as I walked away.

The closet was mostly empty now, the clothing rods bare, and cubbies cleared out, making it easy to spot the boxes he was talking about. I crouched, reaching for the one closest to the door. I figured I’d double-check the contents before hauling it out .

Lifting the lid, I found a small black binder inside. From the outside, it looked like an old scrapbook, but when I flipped it open, it was full of baseball cards—the ones Colt had been talking about. Each card was carefully tucked into its own protective sleeve.

I flipped through a few pages, smiling at how meticulous Colt had been with his collection. I didn’t know much about baseball cards. One of these could have been worth thousands, and I’d have no clue.

“You good back there?” Colt called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there!” I replied, still turning the pages.

On the last page, one of the sleeves didn’t have a baseball card inside. Instead, tucked behind the clear plastic was a folded piece of paper. Behind it was a picture of me in my high school prom dress.

What in the…?

The paper was worn at the creases, like it had been opened and refolded a dozen times. I unfolded it gently, careful not to tear it.

It was a letter.

Dear Ellie,

If you know me well—and you do—then you know that writing my feelings out is easier for me than actually saying them. Honestly, both are hard for me, but here goes nothing.

As I’ve watched you these past couple of weeks, consumed by your grief, I’ve wanted so badly to fix everything for you—to take away the pain you’re feeling.

If this experience has taught me anything, it’s that life is short. These last few months have shown me just how much sunshine you bring into my life. You light up every room you walk into. Your laugh is infectious. Each day that goes by without talking to you makes my heart break a little more.

You have always been special to me. But I think the moment I realized just how special you were was the night of senior prom.

I know you begged me to go—as friends, of course—but getting dressed up in a suit and tie just wasn’t my thing.

After you left, a little birdie (and by little birdie, I mean Molly) told me you were going to win prom queen.

I knew how much that moment would mean to you, so I snuck in through the back door of the school gym and hid behind the curtains.

I remember watching you—the shocked look on your face as they called your name, announcing you had won.

When they placed that tiara on your head, you looked like a real-life princess.

Beautiful, inside and out. I took this picture, so I would never forget the way you shined that night—your red dress like a ruby dazzling in the disco ball light.

That was the moment I fell in love with you. In that moment, I realized you were more than a friend to me. You were my forever. Wherever life took me after high school, I didn’t care as long as you were there next to me.

I know I should’ve told you all of this sooner, but I could never find the right words. Until now.

I want you to know that you don’t have to fight this battle alone. You deserve to be loved and happy again. You always turn my darkness into light.

Please let me be your light.

Your cowboy ,

Colt

The letter was dated nearly three years ago. Colt had written it back when we were still in high school—right after my parents died.

I read it twice. Then a third time. My heart swelled and ached with every line.

I couldn’t believe he’d written something this beautiful and never given it to me.

Holding the letter in trembling fingers, I walked into the kitchen, wanting confirmation this letter was real.

“Did you write this?” I asked, as I walked up behind Colt.

Colt turned, his brow furrowed. He took the paper from my hand and slowly unfolded it. It didn’t take long for recognition to cross his face.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I wrote it.”

I stood there, waiting—for more, for anything—but when he didn’t continue, the question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Why didn’t you ever give it to me?”

He paused, thinking.

“Because, Ellie,” he stepped towards me, his voice low, “if you’d stayed on this ranch after your parents died, you would’ve never had the space to breathe.

You needed to go figure out who you were again, to grieve in your own way.

And I knew if I handed you that letter, it might’ve made you stay.

For me. And I couldn’t do that to you—not then. ”

He paused, then added, quieter this time, “So I let you go. Even though it crushed me.”

Tears blurred my vision. My throat tightened as I tried to hold back the sob pushing its way up .

“I prayed every night that you’d find your way back home,” he continued. “And you did.”

I closed the distance between us, jumping into Colt’s arms. He caught me easily, as I cupped his face with my hands and kissed him fiercely.

“That is the sweetest note anyone has ever written me. The sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, really,” I added. “I’m so sorry you carried that alone all these years,” I whispered against his lips.

“You were always worth it, El.”