Page 40 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

A heavy chill hangs around my shoulders as Mist and I make our way down from checking on the cattle in the hills. The mountains are blanketed by low-hanging clouds, sweeps of gray float about, curling along valleys and weaving through trees to create an eerie sight.

Darkness nips at our heels on the ride back to the barn.

Much like the thick fog dampening everything it touches, there’s no evading it.

Nightfall sneaks up faster and faster at this time of year, and a whispered foreshadowing hangs in the cool of the evening.

Winter isn’t too far away, and she doesn’t halt her pending arrival for anyone.

A snow-laden reality that means I’ll be moving on.

Not that I know where that destination will be just yet.

But I’ve got plenty of other ranches I’ve worked on before, and all of them have told me that they’ll have me back in a heartbeat.

It’s only my own damn restlessness that keeps me moving, the sense of knowing if I stay somewhere too long, I’m inviting trouble to follow behind.

I feel like I owe it to the good, kind, generous people I’ve worked for over the years that I don’t bring any danger to their front door.

I tuck my chin into the collar of my jacket, feeling the chill starting to seep up from my fingertips.

Mist is like a giant goddamn heater beneath me, but even so, riding at this late hour, the bite of cold flowing off the mountains is enough to have me ready for a hot meal and a shower.

To fall into bed and stave off thoughts that want to stray elsewhere.

I’ve always enjoyed being alone; it feels like peace to me.

There’s a comfort in the quietness that comes with being a man alone on a horse.

To be surrounded by the kind of landscape all these tourists pay good money to seek a temporary escape to.

While I can’t comprehend their need to rush back to cities and crowds—days spent in front of computer screens and under harsh lighting—I do understand the reason they come to a place like this.

There’s no denying that mountains, with their thinner air and horizons that seem to stretch on forever into the distance, find a way to burrow into your soul. For me, I couldn’t fathom living any other way.

Yet, there’s a lingering notion, that maybe a part of me enjoyed having someone around. We didn’t talk, we hardly spent any time in each other’s company, and yet invisible cords continue to bind us together. Even more so now since we crossed far too many illicit fucking lines.

So, I’ve either got to suck it up and move on this winter, to do what I’ve always done... or maybe this season will be the one I entertain the idea that letting someone in, letting the right person get close, might be a challenge I could pause to consider?

While the horse beneath me sways with a gentle pace, the notion floats there in my mind’s eye. As soon as I let the idea breach the surface, my upper lip curls. The idea of trusting anyone is a goddamn joke.

Yeah, I can already predict how that would go. No thanks. I’ll stick to my one-night stands and hookups. The kind of brief connections that make it real easy to walk away. Chasing after a need. Satisfying the drive for a release. That’s all.

By the time I’ve returned to the barn, settled Mist in his stall, and made sure the other horses are attended to, my head is more than a little murky. Beau’s almost daily reminders ring in my ears not to slump against the wall and end up falling asleep down here amongst the horses .

Lethargy hits hard as I’m doing a last tidy-up in the tack room after the group who were out on a trail ride earlier.

Hayes has done a half-decent job of handling things, I’ll give him that.

It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s instinctively picked up more of the day-to-day jobs around the stables.

The guy has got ranching in his blood and knows there’s always something to be done rather than idling about.

But even with his quiet help, there’s still always extra work after so many of the horses have been in action at once.

Either way, once I’m walking out of the barn, just how goddamn heavy my boots feel finally registers as I take that first step to climb the stairs. My strides hit each plank, and I dig my phone out, checking if there are any last instructions from Beau I might’ve overlooked.

It’s only when I reach the top that movement registers. I freeze in place, realizing there’s a shadow in front of my door.

A figure huddled in the darkness that I can’t make out at first. My eyes sharpen their focus, immediately thinking it must be some sort of animal.

But that’s when the hidden figure moves, and the glow from my phone lights the space enough for my eyesight to adjust. Sitting on the floor, he’s slumped against the outside of my room, head in his hands. His blond hair sticks haphazardly on end, slightly wet from the drizzle setting in.

I flip on the flashlight from my phone as I step closer, illuminating the narrow landing where Kayce sits. As I close the short distance, his chin tilts to look up at me, and those blue eyes of his are fully bloodshot.

He drags a hand down his face, looking shattered and defeated, as his words hang broken on the night air.

“I had nowhere else to go.”