Page 32 of Midnight & Mavericks

Beau walked up to him, his expression unreadable. “What I’ll regret, Teddy, is if you walk away from this without facing real consequences. But don’t worry—I’m good at my job. And I won’t give up this case until I get justice for Mr. Carter and Abbie. Now, I suggest you shut your mouthing to me and call that high priced attorney of yours and hope he has a rabbit up his sleeve. Otherwise, I’m betting you are going to be gone from these parts for a while and I’m not talking about an expensive spa either.”

Teddy’s jaw worked furiously, but he didn’t say another word as Beau and his team left the estate with boxes and boxes of damning evidence.

Back at the police station, Beau sat at his desk, reviewing the evidence and mentally preparing for the next steps in the case. Once he cataloged the evidence and sent it over to the district attorney’s office, his job would be done other than coming back to testify. Leaving this town should be easy, but Beau couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving Jessup Peak wouldn’t be as simple as he’d thought. The case was almost over, but the ties he’d formed—the people he’d come to care about—weren’t so easy to sever. And then there was Abbie.

Beau shook his head and forced himself to focus. There was still work to do, and he wasn’t one to leave a job half-finished. But as he sifted through the evidence, his thoughts kept drifting back to the fiery woman who’d managed to get under his skin. Leaving Jessup Peak might have been his plan, but staying was starting to feel like a much harder choice to ignore.

Chapter Twenty

Abbie sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, staring out the window at the rolling fields that had been her childhood playground. The early morning sun cast a warm, golden light over the ranch, but it did little to chase away the ache building in her chest. Tomorrow morning, she’d be on a plane back to New York, back to the life she’d worked so hard to build, a life that now felt oddly hollow.

Her grandfather shuffled into the kitchen, his boots scuffing the floor. He carried the weight of years in the sag of his shoulders, but his eyes were sharp and full of quiet wisdom as they landed on her.

“Morning, darlin’,” he greeted, pouring himself a cup of coffee before taking the seat across from her. “You’ve been quiet.”

Abbie managed a faint smile. “Just thinking.”

He raised a brow. “About?”

“About a lot of things,” she admitted, looking down at her coffee. “About the ranch, the city, what it means to be happy.”

Her grandfather leaned back in his chair, the sunlight catching the deep lines etched into his weathered face.“Happiness,” he said thoughtfully, swirling his coffee before taking a sip. “Now that’s a topic worth chewin’ on.”

Abbie glanced up, her lips curving slightly at his choice of words. “What do you think it takes to be happy?”

He scratched his chin, considering. “I think it’s different for everyone. For me, it’s this place—the land, the horses, the sky. My family. There’s somethin’ about workin’ with your hands, knowin’ you’re buildin’ somethin’ that matters and that will outlast you. That brings a kind of peace you can’t buy.”

She nodded, but her thoughts churned. “What if someone has everything they’re supposed to want and still isn’t happy?”

Her grandfather studied her for a moment, his gaze softening. “Well, that’s the rub, isn’t it? The world tells you what you should want—money, success, a big fancy title—but it don’t tell you what your heart needs. You could have all the trappings of happiness and still feel empty if it ain’t what truly feeds your soul.”

Abbie swallowed hard. That hit too close to home. “How do you figure out what feeds your soul?”

He gave her a small, knowing smile. “You listen. Not to the noise out there, but to the quiet in here.” He tapped a finger to his chest. “Sometimes, happiness ain’t about what you have but about who you are and who you’re with.”

Her chest tightened as his words sank in. She thought about her life in New York—her prestigious job, her fancy apartment, the accolades she’d earned. By all accounts, she should be happy. She had everything she’d ever wanted. But now, sitting here in her grandfather’s kitchen, with the scent of hay and horses drifting through the open window, she wondered if she’d been chasing the wrong things.

“I’ve always thought happiness was about achieving your goals,” she said quietly. “About being successful, proving to yourself and everyone else that you can do it.”

Her grandfather leaned forward, his eyes kind but serious. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ goals, Abbie. But happiness isn’t a finish line you cross. It’s in the little moments—the quiet ones that sneak up on you when you’re not even lookin’. Like watchin’ the sun set over the pasture or hearin’ a kid laugh when they’re on a horse for the first time.”

Abbie’s throat tightened as memories of those exact moments flooded her mind. The laughter of children at the therapy sessions, the warmth of the ranch, the way Beau’s eyes softened when he talked about the case—or when he looked at her. She shook her head, trying to push the thought of him away.

“But what if staying here means giving up everything I’ve worked for?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her grandfather tilted his head, studying her with a mix of curiosity and understanding. “Then you’ve gotta ask yourself what you’re holdin’ on to so tight. Is it what you truly want, or is it just what you think you should want?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable. Abbie looked out the window again, her thoughts tangling. Was her life in New York what she truly wanted, or was it just what she’d convinced herself she should want? Maybe she’d chosen a career in law because it made her feel closer to her dad, but what if she’d been wrong?

Her grandfather broke the silence with a soft chuckle. “You know, happiness ain’t about having it all figured out. It’s about the journey, about finding joy in the mess. About finding purpose in the journey.”

Abbie smiled faintly. “That’s a very Zen thing to say for a rancher.”

He grinned. “Life teaches you a few things if you let it.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the creak of the old house and the distant whinny of a horse. Abbie found herself wishing she could freeze thismoment, hold on to the simplicity of it. But the clock was ticking, and tomorrow, she’d be back in New York.

“You all right, darlin’?” her grandfather asked, his voice pulling her back to the present.

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