Page 22 of Branded By the Cowboy

“No. Anywhere. Everything. Life.”

She leans against the rail and thinks about it. “Not anymore,” she says. “Used to. I thought running meant freedom. Turns out it just makes the world feel smaller.”

I nod slowly.

She doesn’t fill the silence. She lets it sit. I respect that.

I clear my throat. “Minister’s coming day after tomorrow to marry us. Same one who did Henry and Shay’s ceremony.”

Luna tilts her head like she’s absorbing my words before asking calmly, “Here at the house?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Living room. Shay’s already planning to decorate like it’s a damn magazine shoot. She’ll probably make you wear flowers.”

Her lips twitch, her brown eyes shimmering with amusement. “Will you be wearing flowers?”

That gets me a genuine smile. “Hell, no.”

“Sounds like you have everything organized,” she says, voice light but steady, “so I guess I better not run.”

“You better not.” My words come out rougher than I mean.

Luna looks at me for a long moment, then nods. “I won’t,” she agrees softly.

I blow out a breath, like maybe she was considering it. “You’ll have full access to the house and accounts for groceries. You don’t owe me anything past what’s required for the will.”

“I understand.”

“If anyone asks, we’re married like anyone else. But in private? You can live however you want. I’m not here to control you.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“I just—” I stop. Clench my jaw. “I want you to feel safe here.”

She tilts her head, studying me. Then, “Doyoufeel safe here?”

Not with her asking questions like that. Not with her looking at me like she wants my honest answer.

Because the answer is no.

Not when someone’s messing with the land.

Not when I don’t know if I’m doing right by the people counting on me.

But mostly because I can’t stop watching Luna like she’s a storm I don’t know whether to run from or reach for.

* * *

That night, I dream of Mom for the first time in weeks.

She’s sitting on the porch, sipping tea, watching the fields like she used to. Luna’s there too, barefoot and laughing, telling a story I can’t hear.

And I realize I’ve been wrong.

This isn’t simply about keeping the ranch.

It’s about keeping what makes it home.

Chapter7

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