Page 36 of Untaming the Cowboy
Luc shut his eyes. He didn’t want to picture Dahlia crying, pressed to the other side of the wood because he had put his ghosts ahead of her living heart. He also didn’t want to picture her not crying.
Either way, the damage was done. He fixed his hat on his head and walked into the dark.
16
Dahlia
Luc woke to the soft crackle of the stove fire and the smell of burnt coffee. For a moment, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here—on Beau’s old leather couch, boots still on, head pounding like he’d gone ten rounds with his own ghosts.
Light seeped in through the curtains, pale and wintry. His body felt hollow, like the fight from last night had drained everything but breath. The sound of popping fans, the roar of ATVs, people laughing and shouting—it all came back in flashes. The smell of dust. The way his pulse kicked. And then her voice—soft, scared, trying to reach him through the noise.
He’d told her to back off. Told her Sage and Sunshine couldn’t fix what the war carved out of him.
The memory tasted bitter.
Beau’s boots scuffed the floorboards in the kitchen. “You’re up,” he said quietly, sliding a mug toward him. “Figured you’d need this.”
Luc took it, hands shaking more than he wanted to admit. “What time is it?”
“Little past eight.”
“Last night… I?—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Beau leaned against the counter, arms folded. His eyes said what his mouth didn’t. You scared the hell outta her.
Luc stared down into the black coffee, steam rising between them. “She okay?”
Beau hesitated. “No, she’s not. She left after we brought you here.”
That one landed deep. “She left?”
“Yeah.” Beau looked away. “Teylor packed her things. After the way you talked ‘em, it was hard to calm Teylor down. It was better to let them go. We didn’t wanna make a scene. She—uh—left you something.” He nodded toward the side table near the door.
Luc didn’t move right away. The house creaked around them, old wood expanding in the morning chill. Somewhere outside, a crow called once and was answered by nothing. The silence pressed in, thicker than any hangover.
When he finally stood, the floor felt unsteady under his boots. A folded piece of paper sat on the table beside his hat. His name was written across it in the looping, confident handwriting he’d come to recognize—same way she talked, same way she laughed.
He unfolded it slow.
Luc,
Thank you for letting me stay in spite of. I’ve always lived by that cliché that everything happens for a reason. I’m still not sure what it means when a storm brings two people together who aren’t meant to be. I’ve learned not to ask the Universe what it’s up to. I just know the past few weeks have been thebest I’ve had in a long time. Much needed and everything I’d hoped Ironhaven would be. However, nothing lasts forever. I’m okay with that.
And I know what happened last night wasn’t your fault, but I also know when I’m not wanted. Sometimes love and healing ain’t the same thing and forcing them to be only breaks you in new places. I don’t want that for you and I won’t allow it over here.
Please make sure you keep Beau and crew fed. Now I’ve got him and Mara spoiled You know they gonna be looking for some home cooked meals. Tell him Patsy will be happy to give him some. Literally. If you didn’t know that woman has it bad for him. Anyway, give Wynn all the belly rubs and ear scratches he can stand for me. And last but not least, please watch over my Sugar Cookie. Leaving her was the hardest. You have no idea how much I wanted to load her in the back of Tey’s truck. But she’s yours and finally a tamed mare. I’m gonna miss Blaze Haven that’s for certain. You got a good place there, your own healing place, even if you don’t see it that way.
Take care of yourself, cowboy. Don’t let the noise win every time.
~Dahlia~
Luc stared at the page until the words blurred. He folded it once and slid it into his pocket, right above the spot where his heart still kicked too hard.
Outside, the world was motionless—the kind of still that came after thunder. He walked out to the porch, blinking against the pale light spreading over the land. Across the pasture, his barn stood quiet, the corrals empty except for a single horse-shaped shadow moving slow in the stalls. Cookie, restless, pacing.
Luc watched the mare toss her head toward the horizon as if she knew which direction Dahlia had gone.
Beau stepped out beside him, holding his own mug. “She’s good for you,” he said softly. “Was, I mean.”
