Page 46 of Light on Love

“You can go do preg checks with the others. I’ve got this.”

Brett can feel Grey’s gaze on him for another minute before his friend sighs and mounts his horse. Slamming the post driverdown again, he listens as the horse’s gallop grows more distant. Once he’s sure he’s alone, Brett drops the metal tool on the ground and leans over the fence.

Removing his cap, he rakes his fingers through his hair and groans. He had let Laurel into every aspect of his life. He had let her see him, something he’d never done, even with friends or team members. And now, everything was a reminder of her.

He wasn’t sleeping at night without her curled up on his chest. And he had immediately changed his sheets because the current ones had smelled like her coconut vanilla shampoo. If he tries to ride or shoot, he flashes back to doing those things with her. And his Stetson, his signature hat. He hadn’t been able to wear it without picturing it on her head, wearing it with only his t-shirt and her cowgirl boots in the sunrise.

Brett rubs at the pressure in his chest and turns back to the row of fence posts he plans to replace. He’ll run himself into the ground until he’s too exhausted to feel anything, too exhausted to think about her or why she hasn’t said a word since leaving. He works methodically, focused, until he has five more posts set.

The sun is starting to dip low along the ridge line as he sets the last post. Sweating despite the chill in the air, Brett wipes the back of his hand along his forehead and moves to load his truck bed up. He takes the long way back, in no hurry to be alone in the empty house, reminders of her around every corner. On the drive, a nagging voice echoes in the back of his mind,why would she come back for you? It creeps in to highlight his fear whenever he starts to care. It came when his dad threatened to leave the ranch to Grey, when he worried about his readiness to lead a SEAL team, and now. Brett turns up the radio, desperate to drown it out.

Once home, he pauses just inside the back door, staring at the jacket he had lent Laurel still thrown over the armchair. Instead of moving to the kitchen to make dinner, he grabs abottle of Buffalo Trace and a glass and heads back out to the porch. He sags into a rocking chair without turning on any lights and gives himself a generous pour. Placing the bottle down, he turns his eyes to the dusk sky and takes his first sip. The amber liquid warms his throat, in contrast to the bite in the late fall breeze.

Brett takes another drink, alone with his thoughts. Yesterday, he wondered if maybe she hadn’t found the note he left her. Today though, he awoke to a text from Ray saying he caught her staring at it in her office and he hopes Brett is holding up. The sympathy from his friend sliced through him, making today feel worse than watching her walk out the door earlier in the week. He had hope three days ago as she left. But his hope was waning with the silence from her stretching on.

Why would she come back for you? The thought again rattles through his mind. It hadn’t been just him. He felt it, he knew. But maybe it wasn’t enough. Brett pours himself a second glass, aiming for just enough to quiet his thoughts tonight. He needed to finally get some sleep.

—

The smell of coffee and bacon wakes him before his alarm. Brett opens his eyes, remembering he had given up on sleeping in his bed and instead opted for the couch last night.This is pathetic, he sighs to himself. But who was making the food? He peers over the back of the couch to see Grey and Floyd sitting at the kitchen island. Focusing now, Brett can hear them talking in hushed tones.

“I’ve never seen him like this, not even after coming back from the Navy,” says Grey, voice tense.

“Give him time, she only left a few days ago.”

“Do you think she’ll come back? What’s going to happen to him if she doesn’t?”

“I hope so. Just give him some space to brood for right now. It’s Brett, he can come back from anything,” Floyd replies with authority, ending the conversation.

He lays back and stares at the ceiling, waiting for them to talk about something else. Anything else. When Grey starts on about Cooper’s improvements with roping, he stands up and heads into the kitchen. They greet him with nods as he pours himself some coffee and eyes the cinnamon rolls, eggs, and bacon in front of Floyd.

“Last day of preg checks, are you coming through to see the final tally?” Grey asks him cautiously.

Brett rubs his hand along his jaw, flinching at the softness of Grey’s tone, the underlying sympathy. This is his ranch to run, he needs to pull himself together. “Yeah, let me shower and then we’ll all head down?”

Grey nods eagerly at Brett’s willingness before Floyd says, “have some breakfast with us first. There’s no rush.” Brett obliges, pulling out a stool and grabbing a plate. Taking a bite, his shoulders relax as the conversation returns to Cooper and away from him.

Despite Floyd telling him to slow down, Brett eats fast and hurries up to shower. He’s just as fast upstairs because the most arousing memories of Laurel threaten to sneak into his mind when he’s in his bedroom.Throwing a black hoodie and a flannel jacket on, he secures his backwards baseball cap atop his head once again. He’s back in the kitchen as Grey is finishing his coffee. Brett strides past them, motioning to the men that it’s time to go.

Down at the barns, Brett is comforted by the normalcy from everyone. He gets no sympathetic looks and, thankfully, no one mentions Laurel. Not even Cooper.

When the final numbers come in at the end of the day, they read that more calves are expected than ever before. Excited cheers erupt and even Brett feels himself smiling with satisfaction. Entering his third season, thesenumbers show how his investments and choices have started to pay off.

The others recognize that the success is due to Brett’s efforts as well, and Grey throws his arms around Brett in celebration. “Hell yeah!” he cries, giving Brett a shake. Grey’s energy is infectious, and Brett feels his shoulders loosen as he accepts a few handshakes and pats on the back.

He’s never been good with praise, but right now there was only one person he wanted to share this win with, and she wasn’t here.Brett slides outside and leans on the corral fence, taking a deep breath. If nothing else, he has this place. His dad can’t dangle it over him anymore. Brett’s gaze carries over the plains and up the mountains. This is his.

Footsteps sound behind him and Brett turns to find Floyd approaching.“This is a big deal, I’m proud of you,” Floyd says as he reaches the corral.“I’m not surprised though. You have the mind for ranch work, got it from your father.”

Tension tightens in Brett’s chest at the comparison, but Floyd continues. “What makes you better at this than him, though, is that you’ve got the heart, too. An impressive amount of heart. You might hide it behind all that grit, but when you let to show? It’s unforgettable son.”

Brett looks over at Floyd, the pressure in his chest constricting. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Floyd nods and turns to go back inside the barn. A few paces away, he stops and says, “and remember, the good things take time.”

Brett scans the compound for something he can do instead of heading back up to his house, Floyd’s words rattling in his brain. He turns to see Gracie walking from the stables towards him,and it dawns on him that this is the first time he’s seen her all day. “Where have you been?” he asks, striding to meet her.

“I had an errand to run in town. I was just coming to find you though; can you head into the stables? I think you need to check something out.”

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