Page 176 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

As they strode across bumpy land, their steps synchronized, they’d remained quiet, focused on the same unspoken goal. The sun was near to setting, the world starting to darken around them, and somehow that hit too close to home.

Because their insides were darkening.

Their tomorrows were darkening.

And neither brother knew if they could fight for the light again.

Our choice to break the contract.

Our choice to let her leave.

Had they been hoping for a different answer? Had they been hoping Eros would make it impossible for Nelly to escape?

Maybe they had.

Maybe they shouldn’t have told her the truth.

The same thoughts and questions swirled inside their brains, a cycle of twin flame torture.

Wade reached the barn first, his tall frame silhouetted against the evening sky as he pushed the weathered entrance open. The hinges protested with a low, mournful creak that seemed to voice the two men’s shared regret. Inside, the air was thick with dust, shafts of fading sunlight filtering through breaks in the weathered wood siding. A lingering trace of Nelly's Omega perfume, like a garden in full bloom, hit them as they moved into the space.

It made their inner Alphas cry out in need and pain.

It made them want to race back to the house and demand she stay.

But they stayed in the barn. They kept to their purpose.

Knowing night would be upon them soon, Wyatt flicked the switch for the dim, swinging overhead lights. They hummed to life, glowing brighter over the next heartbeats. Nelly had never danced here in the dark, but just in case she decided to, thebrothers had checked the wiring and changed the bulbs the same day she’d claimed the place.

The twin brothers moved to the middle of the barn, setting down the supplies they’d brought—water-filled buckets, mops, glass sprays and cleaning towels. They stared around the barn-turned-storage and simultaneously thought back to how their Omega had methodically worked to give herself a practice floor at the heart of the structure. She’d done little things since then, further marking her territory. She’d swept with an old, frayed broom now propped against a support post, and spread a few of the old horse blankets out on the ground like area rugs. She’d salvaged a wooden chair, which was currently draped with one of the brothers’ childhood sweaters. Then there was the portable radio resting on an upturned milk crate. The brothers didn’t even know where the hell Nelly had found the ancient thing. They’d not seen it in years. Their gramps used to take it on their camping trips when they were kids. They’d crank up the volume, the music would crackle through the dying speakers, and they’d all sing at the top of their lungs around a fire. This barn, like so many other parts of Sagebrush, had been touched by Nelly. It could never be untouched again.

What could they say to make her stay?

What could they do to prove they were her home? That Sagebrush was her future, not Seattle?

“You know, she doesn’t have any shoes,” Wyatt said out of the blue, his voice a little strange.

“She’s got my old boots from the attic.” Wade said in confusion, not understanding his twin’s point.

“She’s got no shoes for dancing, Wade.” Wyatt pressed. “We knew she was dancing here, knew how much it meant to her, and we did jack shit to make it easier other than change some fucking lightbulbs.”

"She's got no shoes," Wade repeated unnecessarily, his voice rough with emotion as Wyatt’s meaning dawned on him. His eyes took in the space, heart sinking into his gut.

“What the hell were we thinking? Or… not thinking?” Wyatt’s mind replayed fragments of moments.

Nelly shifting boxes and tools to create space.

Nelly slipping out of the boots, testing the floor before slowly spinning.

Nelly lifting her arms above her head, her silhouette so damn graceful.

Nelly moving like water, flowing from position to position.

This barn wasn’t good enough for her, yet Wyatt and his pack brothers hadn’t thought to give her anything better.

“We’ve all tried in our own stupid ways to make her stay, to make her see the beauty of Sagebrush. Not once did we show her how her beauty could flourish here. We just let her dance in this old fucking barn like it was enough.” Wade stomped forward, slamming the inner wall with his fist. The wood he hit snapped, cracked, and splintered outward. He’d made a new hole. He’d made Nelly’s little haven worse. That thought killed him.

“She really was born to dance,” Wyatt said in an aching voice, his chest hurting.