Page 45 of Lost in the Reins

She’s relaxing now, tension easing out of her shoulders, but then?—

“Sarah Beth says you’re being emotionally constipated, but I’m not supposed to know what that means.”

Lord, help me. “Maybe Sarah Beth’s mama needs to have a talk with her about appropriate vocabulary.”

“Maybe we need to talk about why you’re pushing Paisley away when she makes you smile more than anybody except me.”

When did my niece get so sharp?

“It’s not that simple, Em.”

“Why not?”

How do you explain to a ten-year-old that doing the right thing can feel like sawing your own heart in half? That sometimes love isn’t enough when you’ve got responsibilities weighing you down like a lead saddle.

I grip the wheel again, the leather worn smooth under my palms. “Paisley’s got her own life. In Manhattan. With deadlines and book tours and?—”

“She could write here. She already does.” Emma gives me that look again, the one that says she thinks I’m the dumbest man alive. “Even Bernard likes her now.”

That peacock spent the first two weeks treating Paisley like an enemy invader. Now, he follows her around like a lost puppy.

“The ranch is struggling, Emma. You know that.” The words burn. But she deserves honesty. “I can barely keep things running as it is. I can’t ask someone to give up their life for this place.”

“For you.” Her voice is quieter now. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer. Because I don’t have to.

She studies me for a long moment. “Have you ask her?”

Of course, I haven’t. I didn’t give her the choice. Just made the call. Pushed her away before she could leave on her own.

Like Sarah.

Not because she walked away—she never would have. But because life ripped her from us before I could fix it. Before I could save her.

And maybe that’s what’s really eating me alive.

I couldn’t stop that car from going off the road. Couldn’t stop Emma from losing her mom. But this… this thing with Paisley, I can control. I can stop myself from losing someone else before it’s too late.

“Sometimes…” I start, then have to clear my throat. “Sometimes being a grown-up means making hard choices.”

Emma crosses her arms, looking so much like her mother it physically hurts. “Being a grown-up should mean being brave enough to let people choose for themselves.”

I want to argue. To tell her about duty, responsibility, and all the reasons love doesn’t always win against real life.

But looking at her, at that quiet strength she got from Sarah, I can’t.

“You know what Mom always said?” Emma’s voice is softer now. “She said the ranch isn’t just about the cattle or the land. It’s about the people. The family we build here.” She reaches over and pats my arm like she’s the adult in this situation. “I think maybe you’ve forgotten that part.”

I swallow hard. “When did you get so smart?”

“Must be all those books Paisley reads with me.” Her grin flickers, but her eyes stay serious. “The ones where people actually talk about their feelings instead of brooding over their coffee.”

“I do not brood.”

“Uncle Wes.” She levels me with a look that could strip paint. “You’ve been brooding so hard, Kevin started copying you. A peacock is brooding. That’s how bad it’s gotten.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. A real laugh, one I haven’t felt in too long. “That bad, huh?”

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