Page 15 of Redemption in Misty Mountain

I sit in stunned silence as the episode ends.

The words echo in my head, overlapping, unraveling, until the pieces finally snap into place. I reach back for memories of my former sister-in-law Maisie and I immediately know, it isn’t her. From what I remember, she’s all in on purity culture and the rest of that churchy bullshit.

That leaves… Rosalie. My heart rate ticks up and my chest tightens. Rosalie is pregnant.

My pulse slams against my ribs as I flip open my phone, swiping through the calendar. How many weeks has it been? I count backward, my fingers moving faster, my brain refusing to keep up.

Is it possible? Can it be true? And if it is— Is it even mine?

That last thought has me leaping up and reaching for my car keys. I’ve got to get out to that damn ranch whether I’m ready or not.

CHAPTER 11

ROSALIE

I pullthe last of my clothing out of my closet and shove it into the same moving box I pulled it out of just a few weeks ago. It’s been two days since a dozen at-home pregnancy tests confirmed what my body already knew. I’m pregnant.

I’ve spent two days riding an emotional rollercoaster that took me from disbelief through denial and fear, past acceptance, and now, somehow, to excitement. It’s a strange thing, carrying both terror and joy in the same breath. But here I am, clutching onto the one certainty that refuses to be drowned out by doubt.

I’m having Dawson’s baby… and apparently, he’s going to be the last person to find out.

Thank god the man has an aversion to all things cowboy because thanks to our open windows, I’ve officially made the podcast. I have to tell Dawson as soon as possible, but this isn’t the kind of thing you can do over the phone.

The man deserves to hear the life-altering news in person. Besides, there’s something about the thought of him as a father that lights something deep inside me. It’s like a flickering ember of hope waiting to catch fire.

The timing of this pregnancy was a shock, but Dawson and I creating a life together is a picture that I’ve painted in mymind more times than I’d ever admit. Every time I close my eyes I see Dawson cradling a tiny, dark-haired baby with his easy smile and steady hands. The man was born to be a dad. He’s protective, patient, and good.

Of course, the fact that we aren’t exactly speaking at the moment isn’t ideal. And there’s the fact that the last time we were in the same room the air between us was thick with unsaid things and with old wounds that never quite healed.

But still, somehow, I think he’ll be happy. I might be delusional, but it’s the truth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“How’s the packing going?” Maisie steps into my nearly empty room.

“It’s pretty easy when you don’t start with much to begin with.”

She lets out a laugh. “Make sure you don’t slip my new headphones into that bag… They’re missing.”

I chuckle at her accusation. “Did you check the washing machine? I swear I heard something clicking around in there.”

“Ugh, this is the third pair… I’m losing one per month. Do you want anything? I’m going to make a quick lunch before my next training session. You know what, never mind, I need to feed my niece or nephew. I’m making you something, I’ll leave it on the countertop.”

I shake my head. “Thank you.”

My heart aches. Maisie has been covering my shifts at the stables, stepping in without hesitation, like she always does. The thought of leaving her behind in Texas when we’ve only just started to rebuild our relationship makes my heart lurch. After everything we endured growing up—the loneliness, the weight of surviving in a house that never felt like home—I thought we’d finally carved out something solid, something lasting.

Now that we’re free from the shadows of our childhood, I’d hoped to make her a permanent fixture in my life. Not just stolen weekends and phone calls squeezed between work. Real, everyday life.

And now, with a baby on the way, that pull is even stronger. My child deserves an aunt like Maisie—someone fierce and loving, someone who understands what it means to fight for happiness.

But I can’t do this without Dawson.

So I’m packing my bags for Misty Mountain. And tomorrow, at first light, I’m heading straight back to the man who still holds every piece of my heart—whether he wants them or not.

Two hours later, there’s nothing left to do but wait… and waiting has never been my strong suit.

I’ve eaten the lunch Maisie left me, packed every last thing I might need, and scrubbed the apartment down even though it didn’t need it. Then I wrote Maisie a note thanking her for always being on my side.

---