Page 83 of Careless Hope
“Stay,” he said simply, but the word hung between us, heavy with unspoken meaning.
“Stay?” I echoed. “I already said I would.”
“No I mean, here. With me. For good,” he elaborated, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand in soothing strokes. “I’ve spent so much time chasin’ the wrong things, Caroline. Almost losing you was the worst thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Worse than being shot,” he said with a laugh. “I love you with all my heart. And your love is the best thing I’ve ever felt. If I have nothing else good in my life, I know that’s more than enough. I know it makes me the luckiest bastard in the world.”
The vulnerability in his confession washed over me, filling spaces in my heart I didn’t realize were empty. My mind raced with the implications of his words, yet all I could focus on was the sincerity shining in his eyes.
“Walker, I . . . ” The emotions clogged my throat, making ithard to speak. I squeezed his hand, seeking strength in the contact. “You know I’m here for you while you recover, but are you sure about this? About us?”
“Never been more sure about anything in my life,” he replied, a hint of that old cowboy confidence lacing his tone. “I see the way you look at this place, at the people here. You’re part of the fabric now, Caroline. And I reckon we could weave a pretty good life together if we tried.”
His words painted a picture of the future, one where our lives were threaded together amidst the backdrop of the rolling hills and open skies of the ranch—a future where responsibility and legacy meant more than just hard work; they meant building something lasting, together. Something I’d always hoped for, even if I never realized it.
“Yes,” I breathed out, the decision settling in my heart like the final piece of a puzzle. “I’ll stay.”
Walker’s face broke into a grin, warm and genuine, and he pulled me down to him gently. Our foreheads touched, and we shared a breath, a moment suspended in time. In that quiet closeness, the journey we’d embarked on seemed to stretch out before us, filled with the promise of shared dreams and a love that had taken root in the fertile ground of adversity.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his breath tickling my skin. “For believing in me, for giving me a chance to prove I can be more.”
“Thank you,” I whispered back, “for giving me a place to belong, for showing me what it means to truly live.”
Outside, the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon, leaving us in the gentle embrace of twilight. And there, in the dimming light of Walker’s room, our hearts spoke a silent vow to face whatever came next, together.
Epilogue
Walker
Three months later
Summer had cometo the ranch like an old friend, warm and welcome, setting the evenings ablaze with hues of orange and pink that bled into a starlit sky. I’d spent the last quarter of a year shaping my dreams into something solid, and we were finally getting ready to open the new division soon.
Now, every evening, as the day’s heat softened into a gentle warmth, you could find me out there with the horses, working until the stars came out to play. The ranch was more alive than ever, buzzing with the kind of energy that gets your heart pumping just right. Dust would dance in the lingering sunlight as I took each horse through its paces, muscles moving with a grace I never knew I had in me.
“Easy now, Molly,” I’d murmur, guiding the mare with a gentle hand, feeling the rhythm of her gait sync up with my own heartbeat. It was like we were part of the same song, her hooves drumming the earth in time with the melody that hummed inmy bones. With every session, her trust in me grew, strong and silent as the oaks that lined the property.
This equine therapy center, it wasn’t just another dream anymore—it was shaping up to be the kind of legacy that felt bigger than myself. Something that mattered.
Sweat trickled down my back as I led Molly around the new arena by the old oak grove. Her steps were sure now, her eyes steady. She was ready, and so was I. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be—under the wide-open skies, with dirt under my nails and a purpose rooting me to the land that had seen generations of Andersons come and go.
“Good girl,” I praised, scratching Molly behind the ears as she nuzzled against my palm, looking for that extra bit of affection I was always happy to give. We’d worked hard, both of us, and it was paying off. The opening of the therapy center was on the horizon, and damn if I wasn’t proud of what we were about to offer.
The sun dipped lower, painting the horizon with strokes of fiery red and gold, and I knew it was time to call it a day. One last pat for Molly, and I led her back to the stable, the clinking of her tack mingling with the distant sound of laughter from Gray’s house. Yeah, life was good, real good. And it was just getting started.
The warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers that grew rampant along the banks of the lake. It was a perfect summer evening, with just enough light left in the sky to give everything a soft, golden hue.
“Close your eyes,” I directed Caroline, guiding her by the hand toward the surprise I’d been planning for days.
She laughed, a sound as clear as the water beneath us, “Walker Anderson, if you’ve brought me out here to push me into the lake . . . ”
“While I do like the idea of you in a wet T-shirt, just trust me,” I said, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Finally, we stopped walking, and I stood behind her, hands resting gently on her shoulders. “Alright, open ‘em.”
The little gasp she let out was worth every second of preparation. Before us, a small table set for two nestled between the cattails, the soft glow of candlelight flickering across the checkered tablecloth. Crickets played their nightly symphony, and fireflies danced like tiny lanterns against the encroaching dusk.
“Wow, Walker,” she breathed, turning to look at me, green eyes wide with wonder. “This is . . . it’s beautiful.”
“Only the best for my girl,” I said, pulling out her chair with a flourish. She sat down, and I took the seat opposite her, our knees almost touching under the table.
