I tossed and turned as Ryan's words echoed in my mind. Not a hard no. Just a not right now. I could live with that. The promise of tomorrow dangled in front of me, but it wasn't enough to quiet the storm inside.

I needed to talk to Kayce. He'd always been the one to help me make sense of things, just like I did for him. That twin connection—the kind that runs deeper than words—was something my other brothers couldn't replicate. I loved Jamie and Lee, but with Kayce, it was different. We just got each other. Or at least we used to.

When Kayce left, it felt like I lost a piece of myself. He'd promised he'd come back, but some promises feel too big to believe.

Morning came, and I went through the motions—chores done, dust on my boots, same as always. But instead of heading to the fields or the corral, I climbed into my car and headed toward the Indian Rock Reservation. That's where the girl was. The one Kayce had chosen over everything else—our family, our father, the Yellowstone ranch.

To be fair, Dad hadn't given him much of a choice. Take the girl to abort the baby or leave. Kayce chose to leave. He stood by her, Monica. They had a son together, Tate. I remembered the look on Kayce's face when he told me he was going.

"I won't do that to her," he'd said, his voice thick with conviction. "I know what they used to do at those clinics—what they still sometimes do. Thing about it is, I love her. And I want to start a family with her. Just happened sooner than I planned."

"If you're sure," I'd told him, "I'm behind you. No matter what. I'll be there for you."

Three days later, he was deployed.

When Kayce came back, he wasn't the same man. War had hollowed him out in ways I didn't understand. He became distant, carrying the weight of something I couldn't see but could feel in every interaction. Life hadn't been kind to him. He'd watched our mother die in a field when he was just a boy. Beth blamed herself for that, and for a while, so did Kayce—until he grew up enough to understand it wasn't that simple.

Then there was the brand. Dad's twisted idea of loyalty burned into Kayce's skin when he refused to follow orders. And now the war had left its own scars.

I placed my hand over my heart as I pulled into the driveway of the small mobile home. The scar beneath my palm tingled—a phantom echo of a shared pain we never talked about. The home wasn't much, not compared to the Yellowstone lodge, but it felt like it could be something. It felt like him.

A young Native woman stepped out onto the porch as I parked. I'd never met Monica before, but seeing her, I understood why Kayce fell for her. She was beautiful, yes—but there was something untamed about her, something strong and steadfast. Wild and free, or as free as you can be with a three-year-old underfoot.

"Hi," I said, stepping out of my car. "I'm Alex. Kayce's—"

"I know who you are," she replied before I could finish. Her voice wasn't unkind, just direct. "Come inside. Kayce will be home in about an hour."

The hour passed quietly, with not many words exchanged. But my heart lit up the moment Tate toddled into the room. He was the cutest little boy I'd ever seen, all wide eyes and easy smiles. He had Kayce's eyes—our eyes—but everything else about him was his mother. Strong cheekbones, dark hair, a quiet steadiness that felt unshakable.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, helping him build castles out of blocks. His giggle was infectious, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Monica watched us from the kitchen, her expression soft but unreadable. Maybe she was trying to figure me out. I didn't blame her—I was still figuring myself out, too.

Then the door swung open, and I heard the sound of boots on the floor. My head snapped up, and there he was.

"Alex," Kayce said, his voice laced with concern, "what's wrong?"

The twin thing. He could always tell when something weighed on me, even if I didn't say it out loud. The truth was, nothing was wrong—not really. I just needed to see him, to feel grounded, to remind myself why love was worth the risk.

"I just missed you," I said, pushing myself up from the floor. I walked over and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on tightly. "I had to see for myself that it was worth it. And now I have no doubts. Not anymore."

Kayce pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed in confusion. "You're not making much sense, Alex. But… I'll go with it." He gave me that small, lopsided smile I hadn't realized I missed so much. "You staying for dinner?"

"Dinner?" I glanced at my watch, and my stomach flipped when I saw the time. The sun was already dipping low, painting the room in warm, golden light. How had it gotten so late?

"No," I said, grabbing my jacket in a rush. "I have to be somewhere. I just hope I'm not too late."

I knelt down to give Tate one last hug, whispered a soft thank you to Monica, and stepped out the door. The cool air hit my face, clearing my mind. The weight I'd carried here was gone now, replaced by something lighter, something hopeful.

Love is worth it.

I started the car and pulled out of the driveway, my heart beating faster with each passing mile.

It was dark by the time I made it back to Yellowstone. The stars above were bright, but they did little to settle the storm brewing inside me. My boots crunched against the gravel as I hurried toward the barn, biting my lip to keep my emotions in check. Was I too late? Did Ryan think I didn't want this? Or… did he change his mind?

Inside, the barn was bathed in shadows, the faint smell of hay and leather filling the air. The horses shifted in their stalls, their soft munching the only sound breaking the silence. My heart sank. He wasn't here.

I slid down the nearest wall, wrapping my arms around my knees and burying my face in my hands. A lump formed in my throat as doubts crept in. I wasted too much time. I messed this up.

I leaned my head back against the wooden slats, closing my eyes as my thoughts spiraled. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe I wasn't meant to have this. Or maybe… it just wasn't the right time. The ache in my chest deepened with every passing minute.

The creak of the barn door pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see Lloyd stepping inside. His expression softened when he spotted me, his weathered face as familiar as the land itself.

"Hey, Alex," he said, his voice steady and warm. "Ryan had to head out and deal with some wild dogs over in the west field. Should be back soon." He paused, giving me a knowing smile. "You're welcome to wait for him in the bunkhouse if ya want."

Relief hit me like a wave, making my shoulders sag as I let out a shaky breath.

"Thanks, Lloyd," I murmured, pushing myself to my feet. My legs felt shaky, as though the weight of my emotions had settled in my bones.

As I brushed the hay off my jeans, I glanced toward the west field. He'll be back soon. The thought was enough to spark a flicker of hope.

I wasn't too late. Not yet.

—-

"Is this what y'all do every night?" I asked, plopping down on the worn-out couch in the bunkhouse. Around the table, a rowdy poker game was in full swing, the surface cluttered with empty beer and whiskey bottles.

"Just about," Jake replied with a grin. "Sometimes we watch NASCAR."

I snorted a laugh. Thank God I didn't pick NASCAR night to visit the bunkhouse.

"Don't let me rain on your parade," I said, kicking up my boots on the coffee table. I flipped through the channels, desperate for a distraction to drown out the thoughts racing through my mind. Sports, sports, and more sports filled the screen. Wasn't there anything else on? Finally, I landed on the Game Show Network. Steve Harvey's voice filled the room as he hosted back-to-back episodes of Family Feud. I chuckled at the absurdity of it. If only real-life family drama could be solved with buzzers and fast money rounds.

I must've dozed off because the next thing I knew, a gentle shake roused me. I blinked up into the warm, familiar gaze of Ryan.

"I didn't think you'd still be here," he said softly, his voice carrying a sweetness that made my chest tighten.

"I'm still here," I murmured through a yawn, sitting up. "I wanted to see you."

"I wanted to see you too," he replied, his lips curving into a small smile. "But the ranch needed me."

"I know," I said as he settled beside me on the couch. The rest of the bunkhouse had gone quiet, the other guys clearly turned in for the night. "The ranch always comes first."

I reached up, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw with my fingertips. My eyes searched his, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him. Us. Slowly, I leaned forward, pressing my lips softly to his. The kiss was tender but carried an undeniable spark that sent warmth radiating through me. When I pulled back, his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"Sweeter than I'd imagined," he said with a playful smirk, leaning in to kiss me again. This time, it deepened, his body pressing against mine as I sank back onto the couch. The old, worn cushions groaned beneath us, but I didn't care. All I could think about was him—his touch, his warmth.

"Get a room!" came a loud shout from one of the bunks, followed by muffled laughter.

Heat flooded my cheeks as reality crashed in. I sat up, fumbling to adjust my clothes. "There's an idea," I said, my voice tinged with embarrassment and humor.

Ryan chuckled, sitting up with me. "One more night," he said, his tone softer now. "I have an idea. But I need tomorrow to get it ready."

"As much as I don't want to," I replied, "I think I can wait. This dirty old sofa wasn't exactly the romantic vision I had in mind."

His brow arched, and a teasing smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh? And what kind of romantic vision did you have?"