Page 76 of Open Arms

“Like nothing else,” Chloe murmured back, her voice barely audible but ringing with truth.

We stood there, the three of us in a tangle of limbs and love, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the scene. The pancakes could wait; this moment couldn’t. It was the start of something new, something real.

Home. Family. Us.

Epilogue

Chloe

Six months later . . .

Spring had cometo Whittier Falls, and I sat on the front porch, relishing in the milder weather.

“Hey, Chlo, what do you say we take advantage of this gorgeous day?” Mason’s voice was like a warm breeze, coaxing me out of my shell.

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, the hint of excitement in my voice surprising even myself. Abigail’s grin was infectious as she clapped her hands together, her enthusiasm palpable.

“Yay! Horsies!” Abby squealed, already darting towards her room to get ready.

“Horsies!” I called after her.

“Come on, Chloe!”

“I guess I’m finished with this,” I said, holding up my coffee. Mason laughed and held the door open for me to head inside.

A flurry of movement, and we were out the door in minutes, the sun beaming down as if it too approved of Mason’s plan.

After a short drive to the ranch, the stables loomed ahead,rustic and comforting, the scent of hay and horse a welcome embrace.

“Okay, Abby, remember how I showed you to check the girth?” Mason’s tone was patient, his movements sure and gentle as he lifted his daughter up to her favorite pony, Buttercup.

“Like this, Daddy?” Abigail mimicked his earlier instructions with an earnest concentration that made her tiny brow furrow.

“Exactly like that.” Pride laced his words, and I couldn’t help but admire him. Here was a man who was not just muscle and charm, but a father so intertwined with his daughter’s world that they seemed to orbit each other.

“Good job, Abby.” My own words felt awkward, still getting used to being part of their duo. But Abigail’s smile told me I was doing okay.

“Thanks, Chloe!” She patted Buttercup’s mane, her small fingers entwined in the horse’s hair.

From the corner of my eye, I watched Mason secure the saddle, his hands strong and capable. He caught my gaze and winked, a silent promise of the fun day ahead. It was moments like these—simple, unspoken—that stitched the three of us closer, weaving a new tapestry from strands of laughter, shared looks, and the quiet understanding that bloomed between us.

I swung my leg over the back of Honey, my borrowed mount for the day, a mare with a coat as golden as her name. We’d bonded during therapy, and Honey had become a steadfast source of comfort for me.

The leather of the saddle creaked beneath me, mixing with the crisp morning air that promised an adventure. I glanced at Mason, who was swinging onto his own horse, a powerful chestnut named Duke, with easy grace. Our eyes met, and something unspoken zipped between us like the start of a spring shower.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Mason said, breaking into a grin that reached all the way to those stormy gray eyes of his.

“Better than good,” I replied, the words bouncing around in my chest like I’d captured a bit of the sky inside me. “It feels like freedom.”

He nodded, understanding lighting up his features. We were two kindred spirits craving the open trail, the expanse of nature untamed. With a gentle nudge of his boots, Mason led out of the stable yard and onto the path that wound through the heart of Red Downs Ranch.

“Ready to ride, cowgirls?” Mason’s question held the thrill of adventure, his gray eyes alight with a mischievous spark.

“Ready!” Abigail and I said in unison, and the stable echoed our joy back to us, a chorus of hooves and heartbeats setting the tempo for the day.

“Keep close, Abby!” he called over his shoulder. I twisted to check on the little girl keeping pace behind us, her ponytail bouncing with each trot of Buttercup’s hooves.

“Okay, Daddy!” Abigail’s voice carried, laced with glee, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

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