Page 41 of Hold Me Until Morning

I imagined that was part of the reason I’d been so blinded by Pruitt. Needing a connection while denying the type that had caused so much pain.

So lost in my own world that I hadn’t realized what was happening right in front of me.

But I’d come back to Colorado to make a change. To reclaim who I was or maybe discover who I wanted to be.

Hiding out in my house wasn’t going to help that.

“Fine. I’ll come as long as my grandmother doesn’t mind watching Maddie for a little while.”

“Heck, yes, baby! This is going to be a blast. I can’t wait to see you. We’re going to Mack’s in Time River. Be there at seven.”

Hesitation suddenly bubbled up, and I bit down on my bottom lip. “Are you sure your friends won’t mind?”

I didn’t know much about Paisley’s personal life since our topics of conversation had always centered around horses. Our experiences. Different training techniques. Our dreams surrounding them and our goals for the future.

“Are you kidding me? They will love you. Believe me. Just come.”

Where I thought I might feel reservations, I felt…excitement. There was something about being here that felt…healing.

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

A squeal reverberated through the line and basically shook the cab of my SUV. “Wear your dancing boots, Hails Bells. We’re about to get our party on.”

Oh lord, what did I get myself into?

“I’ll see if I can find them in the mountain of boxes I still need to unpack.”

“Just look at it as motivation to get through a few of them,” she drawled, her voice sly.

There was no containing my grin. “That’ll probably do the trick.”

“Good! Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Be prepared for the best night of your life!” she sang before the line went dead.

I laughed out loud at the whirlwind that was Paisley Dae.

She was someone I hadn’t even expected might come back into my life. Anticipation thrummed, a gratitude that she’d taken the initiative to reach out, and I thought this might be the start of something great.

Ten minutes later, I pulled my Durango into the angled drive of my little house.

My gaze drifted over our home. It was painted white with blue eaves, and there was a manicured lawn out front in a kidney shape, lined by rocks to give it extra texture and design.

A bed of pink and white flowers ran along the walkway and swinging pots containing the same flowers hung from the porch.

Pride welled in the depths of me, though it thudded with something deeper.

No. It wasn’t anything extravagant. Not even close to the type of excess I’d lived in my entire life. Both at my father’s ranch and at the estate I’d shared with Pruitt outside Austin.

But it was what this house represented that made it magnificent.

Freedom.

Goodness.

A safe, untainted place for my daughter to learn, live, and grow. A place that would be filled with love and belief and joy.

I sat in the magnitude of it for a few moments, let it enfold me, the determination that I would do whatever it took to give her all those things swilling. Bricks building to conviction.

I would never let my fear sway me.

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