Page 9 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

Each repaired engine is a small victory, a reminder that despite everything, I still have the power to fix things. To make things right.

I wish I could bottle up this feeling and give it to Ashanti to show her that no matter how tough things get, we can always find a way to keep going.

This is who I am at my core—a fixer, a problem solver. If only the rest of life could be as straightforward as an engine.

“How’s it going?” I ask, my voice neutral. I lean against the barn door, trying to appear casual. But inside, I’m already mourning the loss of that moment of tranquility, bracing myself for whatever challenge comes next.

Shane looks up, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. A smear of grease marks his forehead, and for a moment, I have the strangest urge to reach out and wipe it away.

“Making progress. Should be done on time.”

I nod, unsure what to say. Part of me wants to snap at him, to find some flaw in his work. But he’s just doing his job. My issues aren’t his fault. The tractor looks good—better than good if I’m being honest. He clearly knows what he’s doing.

“Good,” I manage. “Keep at it.”

I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.

“Everything okay, KD? You seem... tense.”

I spin back, ready to tell him to mind his own business. But the concern in his eyes catches me off guard. It’s genuine, not the pity I’m used to seeing. For a moment, I’m tempted to open up, to let someone else carry this burden for once.

But I can’t.

I’ve learned the hard way that trusting people—especially men—only leads to heartbreak and betrayal. Jordan taught methat lesson all too well. And even if Shane seems different, I can’t take that risk.

“It’s fine,” I say instead, my tone clipped. “Just focus on the tractor.”

Shane nods, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “If you need any help?—”

“I don’t.”

I walk away, feeling his eyes on my back. Why does he have to be so...understanding? It would be easier if he were an asshole. Easier to keep my walls up, to remember why I can’t let anyone get close.

Men lie and cheat and…destroy.

And I be damned if I let another man destroy this shred of normalcy I’m fighting to obtain. I got enough shit to deal with without adding heartbreak to the list.

The rest of the afternoon drags on. I throw myself into work, trying to ignore the gnawing worry in my gut.

Ashanti. Jordan. The constant fear that it could all fall apart.

That’s the normal cycle, except today, there’s one more added…Shane.

I tell myself it’s because I’m his supervisor. But overseeing his progress on the team has nothing to do with how his blue eyes haunt me.

My hands move with practiced precision, diagnosing and repairing the various machines that keep Silver Creek Ranch running. I lose myself in the rhythm of it all—the clang of metal, the hum of engines coming to life under my touch.

There’s a tractor with a stubborn transmission, a hay baler that needs its belts replaced, and an irrigation system acting up again. Each problem is a puzzle, a welcome distraction from the thoughts threatening to overwhelm me.

The physical demands of the work—the strain in my muscles as I wrestle with stubborn bolts, the sweat beading on my browunder the hot sun—ground me in the present. But even as I immerse myself, the swirling of my fears never quiets.

Still, I press on. Each machine I fix and each system I get running smoothly again is a small victory. This is a reminder that I’m good at this and have value beyond being Ashanti’s mother or Jordan’s ex. Out here, I can almost believe that we’ll be okay.

That somehow, I’ll find a way to fix our lives as surely as I fix these machines.

As the sun starts to dip, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I head back to check on Shane’s progress. The air has cooled slightly, bringing with it the scent of evening dew and distant wildflowers.

I stop, close my eyes, and give myself a moment to smell the flowers. It’s a lesson I’ve learned through many hard times.

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