Four hours later, we're finally alone in her small flat near the training center. The medal ceremony, press interviews, and congratulations from teammates created a gauntlet we navigated together, my hand rarely leaving hers.
Now she sits cross-legged on her bed, still in her Team USA warm-ups, while I perch on the edge of a chair that's too small for a man my size.
“You really flew all the way here just to see me qualify?” she asks, running her fingers over the gold medal still around her neck, like she can't quite believe either reality—the medal or me.
“That, and to tell you I'm sorry.” I lean forward, elbows on knees. “Not just for the cottage thing, though I'm still sorry about thattoo. But for not fighting harder when you left. For not telling you I loved you that day at the airport.”
She studies me, those intelligent eyes searching for something. “I ran,” she admits quietly. “When things got complicated, I did what I always do—I bolted. Used training as an excuse.”
“And I withheld information because I was terrified of losing you.” I shrug. “We're quite the pair.”
“Fear makes us stupid.” A small smile plays at her lips. “Someone wise once told me that.” She replays my words to me.
“Sounds like a smart person.” I chuckle.
“He has his moments.” She sets the medal aside and moves to sit on the floor in front of me, looking up with those baby blues that see straight through my bullshit. “I thought about you every day. I checked rodeo scores obsessively. My coach thought I was losing my mind.”
“I couldn't even look at the cottage, without wanting to put my fist through something.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Mason threatened to sedate me a few times.”
She laughs, the sound warming parts of me that have been cold for weeks. “So what now? I'm going to the Olympics, Grant. That's months of intensive training ahead.”
“I know.”
“And after that, I have obligations, appearances, sponsorships...”
“I know that too.”
She bites her lip. “I can't just drop everything and move back to Portree.”
I take a deep breath, knowing this is where I prove what I've learned. “I'm not asking you to.”
Surprise flickers across her face. “You're not?”
“Nope. Where we live, how we make this work—that's your call, Mia.” I take her hand, tracing the calluses on her palm. “I've seen what you become in the water. I've watched you fight your way to your dreams. The last thing I want is for you to give that up.”
“But the ranch—your family—”
“Will still be there, whether I'm living on the property or visiting often. Besides, I’m not riding for a few months.” I lift my cast arm and bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “This is what I'm trying to tell you. I love you enough to meet you where you are. To support what you need. I'm done being afraid of change.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “You'd leave Texas? For me?”
“I'd live on the fucking moon if that's where you needed to be.”
She laughs through her tears. “The commute would be hell.”
“Worth it.” I grin.
She rises to her knees, bringing her face level with mine. “You know what I realized while I was here?”
“What's that?”
“That I've spent my whole life defining freedom as the ability to leave.” Her hands come up to frame my face. “But watching you with your family, seeing how you love that land, how it grounds you instead of trapping you—it made me question everything.”
“And?” I prompt when she pauses.
“And maybe real freedom isn't about running away. Maybe it's about choosing to stay even when it's hard. Finding roots that nourish instead of confine.”
Chapter 38
