Page 40 of Midnight & Mavericks

And damn it, he missed her.

He rubbed a hand over his face, the frustration boiling just beneath the surface. He’d had plenty of flings, plenty of women who came and went without leaving much of an impression. But Abbie? She was different. She was in his head, in his blood, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake her.

“Am I in love with her?” he muttered to the empty room, the words hanging in the air like a challenge.

The thought scared the hell out of him. Love wasn’t something he’d ever let himself consider. His parents’ messy divorce, his failed relationships—they’d all taught him that love was just another way to get hurt. And yet, the idea of a life without Abbie in it felt... hollow.

Beau set the tray aside, his appetite gone. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the muted TV.What the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d come back to the city thinking he’d slip right back into his old life, but everything felt off, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

The truth was, he didn’t want this life anymore. The noise, the chaos, the endless grind—it all felt so meaningless without her.

Beau scrubbed a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He thought about her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about fighting for the underdog, the way she’d looked at him that night at his door. He’d been too scared to say anything then, too scared to admit how he felt. And now she was gone.

He stood abruptly, pacing the small living room. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he’d already blown his chance. But if there was even the slightest possibility of fixing this, of showing Abbie they could have something real, something worth fighting for, then he had to try.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to live without her, but what choice did he have?

Chapter Twenty-Six

The next morning, Abbie walked into Winters & Winters with a newfound clarity. She handed in her resignation letter to Benjamin Winters, her mentor and the man who had believed in her when no one else did.

He looked at her, stunned. “Abbie, are you sure about this? You’ve worked so hard for this partnership.”

She nodded, her resolve unwavering. “I know. And I’ll always be grateful for everything this firm has done for me. But it’s time for me to build something new. Something I think my dad would have been so proud of.”

Mr. Winters’s gaze softened. “I get it. Your dad helped me build this firm, but he never lost the human side of law. For him, it was never about the money. If you need anything, anything at all, all you have to do is call. Promise?”

“I promise.”

That afternoon, Abbie packed up her office, her heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement, but as she finished packing her personal belongings, she came across her framed law degree still hanging on the wall. She’d built a successful career here, but something inside her had shifted. Winningthose cases didn’t fill her with the same satisfaction anymore—not after her time at the ranch.

She thought of her grandpa and the work he’d done, not just to save his ranch, but to build a place where children with disabilities could find healing through the horses he rescued. That ranch wasn’t just a piece of land, it was a beacon of hope for so many. It had reminded her of why she’d gone into law in the first place—to fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost sight of that.

Her phone buzzed with a reminder of her next meeting at Winters & Winters. She stared at it for a long moment before silencing the notification. The thought of sitting in another meeting about profit margins and billable hours made her stomach turn. She needed to do something meaningful. Something real.

Abbie grabbed her notebook and began jotting down ideas. A new law practice. One that focused on helping nonprofits, small businesses, and people like her grandpa—people doing good in the world despite the odds stacked against them. She didn’t need a corner office or a hefty paycheck to feel fulfilled. She needed purpose.

The idea began to take shape as she wrote. She’d set up her practice near Jessup Peak. It would be a place where anyone, regardless of their financial situation, could seek justice. She’d work with those who couldn’t afford big-city lawyers. She’d help people protect their land, their livelihoods, and their dreams.

Her heart raced as she outlined her plan. It wasn’t going to be easy. Building a new practice from the ground up would take time and sacrifice. But for the first time in months, she felt energized. She felt alive.

Here’s an alt version:

The next morning, Abbie walked into Winters & Winters with a newfound clarity. The air felt different, sharper, as if the weight she’d carried for years was finally beginning to lift. She clutched the envelope containing her resignation letter, its edges slightly crumpled from her firm grip.

When she reached Benjamin Winters’s office, she hesitated for just a moment. The door, with its polished brass nameplate, had always symbolized success to her—a success she had strived to achieve. But now, it was just a door. One she needed to walk through, both literally and figuratively.

She knocked lightly and entered. Benjamin looked up from a stack of documents, his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

“Abbie! Good morning. What brings you in so early?” His warm smile faltered as she placed the envelope on his desk.

“I’m resigning, Mr. Winters.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. For a moment, Benjamin stared at her, as if he hadn’t heard correctly. Then he picked up the envelope, slid the letter out, and read it in silence.

“Abbie,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, “are you sure about this? You’ve worked so hard for this partnership. It’s right within your grasp.”

She nodded, her resolve unwavering. “I know. And I’ll always be grateful for everything this firm has done for me. But it’s time for me to build something new. Something I think my dad would have been so proud of.”

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