Page 99 of Wild As Her

I give a huff of laughter. "No promises."

I lean against the stall door, the heat of the afternoon bearing down, the scent of hay thick in the air.

I love her. And for the first time since this whole thing started, I said it out loud. Just not to her. Maybe that is the beginning of everything. And Jenna is right. I just need to hold on until this is over.

I wake up gasping.

Sweat soaks the inside of the sleeping bag, my T-shirt clings to my chest like I ran ten miles in a thunderstorm. My heart is pounding, breath ragged. I lie there, staring at the cracked ceiling of my best friend’s childhood bedroom, trying to remember what the hell I’d just been dreaming about.

But the images are already slipping through my fingers like dust. Just fear. Pressure. Shadows. My dad’s voice maybe. Or mine, twisted into something colder. I can’t be sure.

What I do know is this, I can’t go back to sleep.

I kick off the sleeping bag, peel off my shirt off, and swing my legs over the side of the makeshift mattress like it hasn’t been three hours since I crawled into this miserable nest of polyester. The old floor creaks under my weight as I move through the dark. I grab clean clothes from my bag and step into the hallway, and creep toward the bathroom, trying not to wake Cami.

The water takes a full minute to get hot. Long enough for me to stare at myself in the mirror, jaw tight, eyes shadowed,and wonder, how the hell did I end up back here? In the one place that I ran from and now I’m back trying to save.

And the answer has always been for her. For Cami.

When the steam finally rises around me, I step under the spray and let it wash away the sweat, the nightmare, and the ache in my chest I can’t name.

By the time I step outside, the sky is still pitch black. Not even a hint of dawn yet. Crickets are still humming. A breeze tugs at the hem of my hoodie as I walked across the quiet ranch yard, headed for the barn like muscle memory.

I don’t need the light to find my way. The barn door groans as I pull it open, but the horses don’t stir. They sense it’s me. Trust me. I move between stalls with practiced ease—grabbing a pitchfork, tossing hay, checking hooves, murmuring greetings under my breath.

The smell of fresh hay and saddle soap ground me in a way nothing else does. The rhythm of it, the clatter of grain in the buckets, the warm huff of breath from a chestnut gelding, the scrape of my boots on concrete. This is what makes sense. Not some reality show. Out here, things are simple.

And maybe that’s what hit me so hard when I started staying at Wilder Ranch. It feels different. It’s built differently. Cami’s parents didn’t live up to what her grandparents had as a legacy. It’s not the same with them gone. But the roots of Wilder Ranch are still here, and right now they feel stronger than the Jessop Ranch roots.

Wilder Ranch has heart. You can feel it in the way Cami keeps fighting for it like it’s stitched into her bones. This place was built on love. The Jessop Ranch was built on expectations. On image. Or whatever my dad thought was important at the time.

I lean against one of the stalls, running a hand through my still-damp hair, breathing deep.

The quiet feels good. Better than it has in days.

Until I see the soft light in the kitchen window turn on, I realize she hasn’t seen me. Her back is to the window, long hair tumbling in soft waves down her shoulders, falling over the straps of a faded tank top. There’s a sleepy sway to her movements as she reaches up for a mug and flicks on the coffee maker like it’s muscle memory. Her routine.

I remain completely still, like any movement would shatter the moment.

She’s beautiful. Not just because of the way she looks, which is dangerous this early in the morning, especially in those shorts, but because of the way she exists. Soft, fierce, completely unaware of the way she lights up the dark without even trying.

I shouldn’t want her like this. Not when I’m still figuring out how to untangle myself from my father’s shadow.

But God, I want her anyway. Not her ranch, just her. I care about Wilder Ranch. But I loveher.

And maybe my sister was right. I am scared. Maybe I’ve been hiding behind good intentions and timing and all the crap that made me feel like I was doing the “right” thing. But I’ve been too chicken shit to do anything about it and say something. I’m afraid I’ll mess it all up.

But nothing about standing out here in the dark, watching her start her day, feels like I could do this every day. I don’t want to live without her.

She stretches her arms up, back arching, and I make a strangled sound so loud that my horse side-eyes me.

I should look away. I don’t. Because even from out here, even in the shadows, I know what she is. She’s everything to me.

I’m so damn tired. Tired of smiling for the cameras. Tired of being someone I’m not. Tired of pretending like I hadn’t fallen headfirst, heart-deep in love with Cami.

All I can think about is the look on Jenna’s face when I toldher I loved Cami. It had come out like a roar. Explosive. Raw. And maybe I needed that moment to stop holding it all in. But now it echoes in my mind.

I love her. God, I love her. And she has no idea.

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