Page 13 of Promised Cowboy

She doesn’t look surprised. If anything, she smiles like she saw it coming weeks ago.

“And how did that feel?” she asks.

I let out a laugh that sounds more like a sigh. “Like I’ve been waiting ten years for it. And also like I might be making the biggest mistake of my life.”

Rachel tilts her head. “Why would it be a mistake?”

“Because I don’t live here,” I say, the words coming faster now. “Because I have a job. Or… I did. And I was going to find another one, something bigger, better. Because I spent years proving I could make it out there, and now I’m back here, falling into a man and a rhythm and a life that I walked away from.”

Rachel is quiet for a moment.

Then, gently: “Lacey, no one’s saying you have to make a decision tonight.”

I nod, even though the decision already feels like it’s pressing in from all sides.

“It just felt like more than it should’ve,” I say. “That kiss. Him.”

“Maybe it felt exactly the way it was supposed to.”

I glance at her, startled.

Rachel smiles again, softer this time. “I don’t think Colton Walker does anything halfway.”

No. He doesn’t. That’s exactly the problem.

I press my palms against the edge of the counter, staring down at the tile.

I need space. Distance. Time to think.

Time to remember that I came back here to help my brother. To rest. To regroup.

Not to fall in love with the boy next door who somehow turned into the man I can’t stop thinking about.

* * *

The next morning, I skip breakfast and head into town early.

I tell Wyatt I’m running errands, but mostly I just need to breathe. I wander through the hardware store, pick up a coffee at the bakery, nod to half a dozen familiar faces who act like I never left.

It’s too easy here.

Too warm. Too full of everything I forgot I wanted.

I pass the storefront where Mom used to buy my school shoes. The little park where Colton and I once played tag until we both collapsed in the grass, breathless and sunburned. The diner where we’d sneak milkshakes after chores and pretend we weren’t completely, hopelessly tethered to each other even then.

I slide into a bench at the park and sit there until my coffee goes cold.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

All I know is that last night changed something. And I don’t know if I’m brave enough to admit it out loud yet.

Chapter 8 – Lacey

The rain starts around nine.

Not heavy — just a soft, steady drizzle that paints the front porch in streaks of silver and turns the air thick with petrichor. I sit on the swing wrapped in one of Rachel’s throw blankets, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea I haven’t touched in twenty minutes.

The house behind me is quiet.