Page 82 of Careless Hope

They gathered around him, a motley crew bound by blood and choice, each person a thread woven into the tapestry of his life. And as I watched them, the banter and teasing, the slaps on the back and the quiet words spoken close, I knew that this was what coming home truly meant.

I shuffled alongside Walker as we made our way inside, the door creaking familiarly on its hinges. The living room had been transformed into a cozy convalescent’s retreat. His favorite quilt, the one with horses galloping across a sunset plain, was draped over the back of the couch. On the coffee table, astack of novels—westerns and thrillers—stood sentinel beside a bowl of shiny apples.

“Y’all didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Walker said, his voice roughened by gratitude.

“Trouble?” Gray snorted, gesturing around the room. “This ain’t trouble. Trouble is when you try to saddle a cat. This here is what family does.”

Mason sidled in from the kitchen, two mugs of steaming coffee in hand. “And I’ve got your favorite—French vanilla with that fancy froth on top. Doctor’s orders are to keep you hydrated, but nothing says it can’t be with style.”

Walker chuckled, easing himself onto the couch with a grimace that he tried to mask as a smile. “You know me too well.”

As they fussed over him, plumping pillows and adjusting the throw so it covered his long legs, I felt something akin to envy. Not for the attention—he needed it more than ever—but for the ease of their care, the unspoken bonds that made each gesture, each joke, an expression of love.

“Caroline?” Walker’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet over there. You planning my physical therapy schedule already?”

“Something like that,” I replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“Doc will get you healed up in no time, I reckon,” Mason said with a smile.

“Actually,” I continued, my voice steadier than I felt, “I was thinking of staying here for a bit. To help out, I mean. If that’s alright with you.”

The room went still, everyone’s eyes turning to me, then to Walker. But it was his gaze that held mine—a clear, piercing blue that seemed to see right through me.

“Caroline, you’ve got a clinic to run. You don’t need tobabysit me,” he said, but there was a hopeful note in his voice that told me he wanted me to insist.

“Don’t worry about that.”

“We can take turns. When Caroline goes to work, Eryn and I can come by,” his mom said with a wink in my direction.

“Oh great, so I can have all the ladies in my life fussin’ over me non-stop.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up for a shift,” Sutton said with a smirk.

“Besides,” I added, trying to match their humor, “someone needs to make sure Mason’s coffee doesn’t kill you before the stitches do.”

Laughter filled the room again, wrapping around us like the quilt on Walker’s shoulders.

Walker beckoned me closer, pulling me down next to him and kissing my neck.

“You sure you don’t mind stayin’ here on the ranch?” he whispered in my ear.

“I want to be here.”

“Good.”

He kissed me again while Abby made silly kissing sounds and Gray shouted to get a room.

It was settled then; I would stay. Through late-night checkups and early-morning groans, through the slow dance of healing and the quiet moments in between. And though the road ahead was uncertain, one thing was crystal clear: Walker wasn’t the only one starting to think about legacy and hard work.

Because as I looked around at the faces of his family—my family now—I realized that this ranch, with its sprawling land and deep-rooted history, wasn’t just a symbol. It was home. And I was ready to roll up my sleeves and help build something that would last, something that mattered, right alongside him.

The hum of the ranch house simmered down to a comfortable lull, the laughter and clinking of dishes fading into the background as evening settled over us. Walker had been moved to his room, propped up like royalty amid a mountain of pillows on his bed, the quilt—worn from years of love—drawn up to his waist. I stood by the window, watching the sun dip behind the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

“Caroline?” Walker’s voice was soft but carried a weight that pulled me away from the sunset.

Turning around, I met his gaze, those light blue eyes searching mine with an intensity that caused my pulse to quicken. “Yeah, Walker?”

He motioned for me to come closer, and I obliged, taking cautious steps until I was at the edge of his bed. His hand found mine, fingers intertwining with a familiarity that sent a shiver up my spine.

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