Page 11 of Redemption in Misty Mountain

Six WeeksLater

The door to our apartment creaks open, and Maisie steps inside. Her cheeks are flushed and her boots kick up bits of dirt onto the mat. Her shirt and jeans are covered in mud.

“I have an hour before I have to be back up at the stables and that horse got me good. He’s going to take some work… I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“The perks of living in the same place you work… It’s all yours.”

I’ve been sick for a full week. But honestly, it doesn’t feel all that different from the other five weeks I’ve spent here at Kingridge Ranch. Except for the nausea, the dull throb of lifelessness I’m experiencing has been consistent. I’m more existing than living and the emptiness is painful.

The whiplash from spending five magical days with Dawson on a snow-covered mountaintop to crashing in a cramped apartment with my sister under the endless expanse of Big Sky Country is almost too much to handle. Before, when I thought I’d never see Dawson again, it was easier to shove the past into a locked box and pretend I’d moved on.

But knowing he’s back, knowing he loves me, and having fresh memories of the way his body feels on top of mine is like taking a punch to the gut I never saw coming. Every breath feels too heavy, every thought circles back to him, and no matter how hard I try to settle into this new life, my heart refuses to let go.

When Maisie gets back, her eyes are wild with excitement. “I’m sorry you still aren’t feeling well… But I have to tell you what just happened, you aren’t going to believe this.” She refills her water bottle and grins over at me. “The Southern Knights football team is coming back to the ranch, and all the Kingridge guys are losing their damn minds. I was trying to finish my training session with the new mare when total chaos broke out—” She stops mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Tell me more.” I try, but it comes out flat, and she reads me like a book.

“Yeah, right. This isn’t a sickness.” Maisie flops onto the couch beside me, crossing her arms. “This is like, what? Day one million of you moping around? What happened to "I'm going to get to the ranch and start my cowgirl era?”

I sigh, tucking my knees under the blanket. “I guess the cowgirl in me likes a book and a quiet evening at home more than a bunch of ranchers plotting revenge on a professional football team. Also, that stupid ass rooster chases me every time I walk to the stables.”

“Choke.” She raises an eyebrow at me.

“What are you talking about?” I roll my eyes.

“Choke the Chicken… He’s more of a guard dog in a rooster’s body. I’ve come to like him. All you have to do is stand your ground. It’s a trick I learned. You should try it, you can’t befriend him.” Maisie lets out a chuckle and I want to be there with her, but I just can’t.

I sigh, “I’m the problem, it isn't the ranch. In fact, I’m starting to think I’m the problem in most areas of my life.”Especially when it comes to love.

Maisie squints at me, her eyes run across my face like she’s searching for a missing clue. “Yeah… see, that kind of thinking is what I call insane behavior.” She gestures at me. “I’ve been on this train of thought since you got here. Here are my theories. One—you hate it here. Two—it isn’t as fun as the last time you visited. Three—you’ve suddenly developed a deep-seated hatred for burly ranchers.”

I snort. “We can’t all be spending quality time in the Udder Satisfaction Milk Barn with a certain handsome Kingridge brother.” I glance at her, smirking. “Tell me, what was the expiration date on that V-card of yours?”

Maisie’s face ignites like a bonfire. It’s cruel but effective. We were raised in what my parents called ‘the church’—but what I’ve since come to think of as a full-on cult. She’s still shaking off some of the guilt they baked into us, so I know exactly where to hit.

“Would you shut up? The window is open and you know how this place is, that will spread like wildfire. Besides I—” she starts, flustered.

I hold up a hand. “Relax. I’m not actually asking for details. And the gossip around here is how I found out in the first place. When I heard that a new horse trainer might be shacking up inside of the Udder Satisfaction Milk Barn with a Kingridge brother, there were only two options and I knew it wasn’t me.”

Maisie exhales hard and bites back a laugh. “Okay, okay we can circle back to that… I may havesomethingto share. But right now we’re on you, not me.”

I laugh, but the moment fades as quickly as it came. “I don’t hate it here,” I say finally, my voice softer now. “It’s just… I raninto Dawson before I left, and to be honest, he’s all I can think about.”

Her jaw drops. “Dawson-Dawson… Like, the Dawson? Here? Dawson Stone is in Texas?”

“No, back in Misty Mountain before I left…” And just like that, the whole story spills out of me. One detail at a time. Even the steamy parts.

I don’t mean to, but once I start it feels good to bring someone into my world. I tell Maisie how right it felt to be in his arms again and about the way I hoped the snow would never melt. I tell her how for a moment, it felt like coming home.

And I tell her the hard parts too. I tell her how the illusion shattered with the sunlight. I talk through his lack of a plan and the way I know he’ll put everything on the back burner as soon as he comes up with a new goal. Maisie listens in stunned silence. Her lips part slightly, her forehead creases, and her expression stays unreadable.

When I stop rambling, a long silence stretches between us. I feel lighter for the first time since the moment I left Dawson at the Hollow Tree Inn. But talking through it makes it real too and I miss him with the kind of deep ache I haven’t felt in years.

“No wonder,” she finally says. “It makes so much sense now. I kept thinking maybe you’d end up with one of the Kingridge guys, but it never felt right.” She shakes her head. “Of course, they can’t compete… Dawson’s always been your person. You can’t just replace that. Not even with a cowboy in very tight jeans.”

I let out a weak laugh.

“So what happened after you left?” she asks. “You moved here and stopped talking to him? Again?”

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