Page 46 of The Rancher Who Swore Off Love
“At dawn.”
“Before dawn, actually. Left when the stars still showed.”
“How did you even know this was our—”
“I checked.”
“You…” She tightened her arm across herself. The baby grabbed a handful of flannel,hisflannel, and yanked. “Whatever. If you came out here to tell me—”
“I’m sorry.”
Two words, and every thought in her head went quiet.
Logan stood up. Brushed the dirt off his knees. Took one step toward her and then stopped, like he’d hit a wall only he could see.
“What I said to you yesterday... about the ranch bein’ mine and you fittin’ where we agreed...” He worked his jaw. “That ain’t what I believe.”
“You said it.”
“I did. But it ain’t even close to what I believe, and I said it because I got scared, and when I get scared I build fences, and I built one right between us, because that’s the only thing I know how to do when the world stops makin’ sense.”
He looked like he hadn’t slept. That shouldn’t have mattered to her as much as it did.
“You ain’t hired help, Grace. You ain’t a housekeeper, and you sure as hell ain’t a piece of furniture I can move around when it suits me.”
He swallowed, his throat bobbed, and the words that came next sounded like he’d had todragthemfrom somewhere deep.
“You’re family. You been family since the night you named that baby after my mother, and probably before that, and Ijust... I couldn’t see it because I had my head so far up my own backside I needed a lantern to find my way out.”
Grace bit the inside of her cheek.
Because here was the thing. Part of her, the part that’d spent twelve hours in a tent on the cold ground smelling mildew and listening to coyotes, wanted to stay mad. Wanted to let him twist. Make himworkfor it the way she’d worked for every scrap of good she’d ever gotten in her whole life. With Jonah still asleep, she had the time for it before he started badgering her to forgive.
But another part of her, the one that’d pressed her nose to the baby’s hair last night and reached through the dark to a ticking clock miles away...
That part just wanted to go home.
And shehatedthat. Hated how fast the anger thinned when he stood there looking at her with those blue eyes and that hair in his face and dirt on his knees from building a fire she hadn’t asked for.
“You told me toleave.” Her voice wobbled at the edges like a plate balanced on a fingertip. “You stood in your yard and told me I could go, and youmeantit, Logan. Don’t stand there and pretend you didn’t.”
“I meant it. Every word.” He stood up. “And I been sick over it since the second you walked ‘round that bend.”
“Good.”
“I deserved that.”
“You deserve worse.”
“Probably.”
Miriam chose this exact moment to let out a sharp cry, the kind that meant the forty-second warning had expired and the full storm had arrived. Grace bounced her in the sling and shushed against the top of her head, and the baby’s fists balled up tight inside the blanket.
“She needs that milk,” Grace nodded toward the canvas sack. “If you’re gonna apologize, you can apologize and pour at the same time.”
So he did.
He pulled the bottle from the sack and brought it over. When he held it out, their fingers bumped on the glass, and neither of them pulled back for a second that stretched longer than it should’ve.
