Page 24 of Careless Hope

“I think your ideas are amazing, Walker,” Caroline said, her green eyes reflecting the twinkle of the bar lights. “I’ve read about equine therapy; it can really help people. It’s . . . meaningful work.”

“Meaningful,” I echoed, liking how the word felt, especially coming from her. “That’s the goal. To leave a mark, you know? Something that’ll last longer than the echoes of a good party.”

“Leaving a legacy,” she mused, nodding slowly. “I can relate. Taking over Dad’s practice, it’s not just about keeping things running. It’s about building on what he started, making it my own.”

Our gazes held for a beat too long, and something unspoken passed between us. A mutual understanding, maybe, of the weight of responsibility and the drive to carve out our place in this world. A small town might seem like a place where dreams get trapped like flies in honey, but here we were, both aiming to spread wings wider than Whittier Falls’ horizon.

“Building and leaving legacies,” I repeated, the words wrapping around the possibility of new beginnings—for the ranch, for Caroline’s practice, and maybe, just maybe, for whatever was simmering between us.

The conversation flowed as easy as the river after a spring thaw, but every time Caroline laughed or tucked a stray auburn lock behind her ear, my gut clenched with something that felt dangerously close to longing. It was like watching the sun rise over the ranch—beautiful and full of promise—but I knew better than to get caught staring for too long.

I had to shut down those feelings. She was back in town, I was trying to get my life together. There was no way I was gonna bring her reputation down to my lower level. But we could enjoy each other as friends.

As the night wore on, the Dusty Barrel began to empty, folks trickling out like cattle through an open gate. The music softened, and the laughter became a quiet hum. It was getting late, and I could feel the weight of the day settling on my shoulders—the restless need to prove myself, the hunger for something more substantial than fleeting pleasures.

“Looks like it’s closing time,” I said, glancing at the neon clock above the bar.

Caroline sighed, fiddling with the straw in her glass. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

People still mingled, but there was a steady exodus out the door. We stood and I walked them outside, slipping my hand on the small of Caroline’s back to guide her through the crowd as Sutton led the way in front of us.

“You good getting home, Sut?”

“Yeah, I already ordered an Uber, which means Tex will be along shortly.”

“Wait, Tex? Like that guy from school?”

“Not from school, from around school,” Sutton said with a laugh.

Tex Baker was one of those guys who hung around high school long after he’d graduated. It creeped me out now to thinkabout it, but when I was a kid he seemed so cool. No one really knew how old he was, since he hadn’t graduated on his first, or even second, attempt at senior year. But he was at least a few years older than Gray.

“Tex is our resident Uber driver. He’s the only one in town most of the time, but every once in a while students on break from school will join up and we’ll get an influx of drivers for a few weeks,” I explained.

“I’m surprised we even have one,” Caroline said.

“Oh, there he is now. See you, guys. Thanks for coming out, Caroline. I’ll text you tomorrow!”

She gave Caroline a kiss on the cheek and hopped into Tex’s old Camry.

“Well hey there, Doc. Nice to have you back,” Tex said in a drawl eerily reminiscent to Matthew McConaughey. Sometimes I wondered if he did it on purpose, but I was pretty sure he was just high all the time.

Caroline gave a half-hearted wave. “How does he even know who I am?”

“It’s Whittier. No use askin’ questions like that,” I said, guiding her down the sidewalk. “You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Nah, my house is just a few blocks away.”

I nodded. “I’m probably gonna crash at Mason’s for a bit. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“You don’t have to, it’s really not far.”

“My mama didn’t raise me to let a lady walk home alone in the dark. Come on, Doc.”

She giggled at that, and the sound was so refreshingly sweet I about got a toothache. I held out my arm and she tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow. The feel of her sent a warmth through my veins that contrasted with the cold breeze.

“Thanks for hanging out with us tonight. High school menever would have thought one day I’d be at a bar sitting next to Walker Anderson.”

“Why not?”

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