Page 44 of Wild As Her

I ride slowly, letting my horse take me wherever it feels right. The familiar rhythm of his hooves against the dry earth steadies me, grounds me.

To anyone else, Wilder Ranch is a mess. The fences need fixing. The barn leans slightly like it’s trying to decide whether to hold strong or give in.Same, barn. Same.

The pastures could use attention, more time, and more care than I can give on my own.

But to me? This is home. I see what it was, what it is, and what it could be.

And my vision for this place is something I get so excited about every time I think about it. I can’t help but feel giddy when I think about where I see this place five years from now. Now that the Jessops own the ranch, I’m not sure where everything stands. Maybe Jack will let me be a business partner or something like that.

When I think of the future here, I see kids riding horses and going on trail rides for the first time, their laughter spilling across the hills. I see families gathering for fall festivals, hayrides, and bonfires with steaming mugs of cider warming cold fingers. I see our community, the kind that doesn’t give upon people just because they’ve had hard years. They've proven time and time again that they can be forgiving and supportive of our neighbors.

I see a future here. One that isn't finished yet. And maybe Jack Jessop was crazy to take on this mess. This land? This ranch? It’s in my bones.

And I’ll be damned if I let anyone, even my mother, convince me it isn’t worth fighting for.

A sharp breeze sweeps across the fields, cooling the dried tears on my face, and that’s when I hear the faint sound of hooves behind me. I don’t turn around. I already know who it is.

Jack rides up beside me, silent as ever, his horse Pesto keeping an easy pace beside mine.

We don’t say anything. We just ride.

The quiet between us feels less like distance, more like understanding. Like maybe he knows that I need a minute, that maybe for once, we don’t have to fill the space with bickering or jabs or stubborn pride.

I sniff, wiping my sleeve across my face, embarrassed to have been caught crying.

Jack doesn’t say a word about it. Just keeps riding. And for some ridiculous, infuriating reason, that makes my throat burn all over again.

I finally break the silence. “My mom thinks I should leave.”

Jack doesn’t react, doesn’t even look at me, just scans the horizon as we ride. “Sounds like your mom has a lot of opinions.”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

Another stretch of silence. And then, quietly, he asks, “Do you want to leave?”

I turn my head toward him, the words instantly, fiercely there before I can even think. “No.”

Jack finally meets my gaze, his eyes steady, like he already knew the answer before he even asked. He gives a small nod, then looks back out over the land.

We keep riding.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of hooves, the wind, and the occasional creak of leather as one of us shifts in the saddle.

Maybe it’s the way the sunset hits his profile, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s here, riding beside me, but I suddenly feel like I need to lighten the mood before I start sobbing again.

I clear my throat, tilting my head at him. “I assume you’re here to offer some grand, wise, life-changing advice?”

Jack snorts. “I was actually just here to make sure you weren’t planning on burning the place down out of spite.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Not today. Don’t worry, your new ranch is safe.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Would’ve been a damn shame," he says, looking at me.

I glance over at him, squinting. “Careful, Jack. People might hear you and think you care.”

Jack sighs, dramatic as hell. “Don’t make it weird.”

I grin, the tightness in my chest loosening just a little. “Too late.”

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