I'M TOO TIRED TO KEEP SWIMMING AGAINST THE TIDE.
KINSLEY
I need air.
The cottage walls have been closing in on me for hours. I've done everything I can with the evidence I have. Now I just need to breathe.
Sarah's offer from this morning echoes in my head.Go for a ride. Clear your head.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I just need the mountains and the quiet and a horse beneath me. I didn’t understand the release of riding like that until Wyatt took me up to the bluff. I could go back up there, alone.
I grab my jacket and head for the barn before I can talk myself out of it.
Dust motes dance in the afternoon light slanting through the windows, and the smell of hay and leatherwraps around me. I stop at Rebel’s stall to give her some attention. She nickers at me. “I know girl. I’m sorry.” I rub her neck and leather nudge my shoulder before moving on to find Ace.
Riding Ace feels dangerous. It's intimate. Like borrowing his jacket or sleeping in his shirt. A way of being close to him when I'm supposed to be keeping distance.
I'm so tired of distance.
Being away from him hasn't made anything clearer—it's only made me want him more. Giving in and dancing with him last night made me realize that whatever strength I thought I had to resist him was a lie.
I'm weak for Wyatt Halloway. Completely, pathetically weak.
"Hey, boy," I murmur, letting Ace sniff my hand before I unlatch his stall. He's calm under my touch as I slip the halter over his head, patient while I adjust the buckle.
"Headed out?"
I freeze in place, but his voice melts through my defenses like sun through frost. I cling to Ace's halter, desperate to hold onto what little resolve I have left. Each breath becomes a battle—shallow, shaking—Ace shifts his massive weight closer, as if sensing the tremor in my hands, his warm breath huffing against my neck. If I look up now, if I dare meet those turbulent eyes, the walls I've spent days building will crumble to dust in an instant.
"Going for a ride." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "To think."
I hear him move closer, boots quiet on the cement. The air shifts with his presence, and my body responds before my brain catches up—pulse quickening, skin warming.
"Thinking about me?" His voice is closer now.
"I'm trying not to." Honest. Defeated. I keep my eyes on Ace, on the familiar process of checking the halter.
"Kinsley." The way he says my name makes my chest ache. "Look at me."
I turn slowly, and the sight of him steals what's left of my composure.
He's standing ten feet away, hat in his hands. A day's worth of stubble shadows his jaw. Even exhausted and hollow-eyed, he's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
He takes a step closer. Then another. "I can't do this without you, Kinsley. I tried. I got on that bull thinking I could ride away from what I feel, but all I could think about was you."
Another step. He's close enough now that I can see the desperation in his eyes.
"You're everything to me. The land, the legacy, the ranch—none of it matters if you're not here." His voice drops lower. "I love you. And you love me. I know you do."
I close my eyes against the truth of his words, fighting the current pulling me toward him. Nothing's changed—the baby, Brittney, Martinez's schemes—they're all still there, immovable obstacles between us. But standing here, breathing the same air as him, feeling the weight of his gaze, I'm too tired to keep swimming against the tide.
He sees my silence for what it is—surrender—that loving him was never a choice I had the power to make or unmake.
His expression shifts, hope and determination mixing together as he asks for something more. "If the baby's mine—will you help me raise it?"
The question steals the air from my lungs. I stare at him, certain I misheard. "You want me to what?"
"Love a child that's not yours." He moves closer, close enough that I can smell coffee and leather on him. "I'm asking if you could do that. If you love me enough to love whatever comes with me."