Page 100 of Wrangled Love

Her fingers hook into my collar, tugging me against her. “I do. Despite your love for pineapple on pizza and lack of knowledge on plumbing tools, you’ve stolen my heart, and I never want it back.”

“Say it again,” I plead, desperate to hear it once more.

“Despite your enthusiasm for pineapple on pizza and lack of knowledge on plumbing tools, you’ve stolen my heart and I never want it back.”

I shake my head with a chuckle. “No, what you said before that.”

She rises on her tiptoes to kiss me. “I love you, Jensen.”

I take a moment to soak in those three words. I’ll never get tired of her saying them, and I’ll make sure she hears them from me every chance I get. She’ll never doubt how much she matters to me ever again.

“You know what this means?” I whisper.

She tips her head to meet my eyes. “What?”

“You’re mine, sugar.”

She smiles against my lips. “Then why don’t you claim me properly, cowboy?”

I take my hat off, placing it on her head. “Gladly.”

I tip her chin, leaning in to kiss her softly. My hands gliding along the curve of her hips as I draw her closer until her body molds perfectly against mine. Briar deserves the very best, and I intend to spend my life showing her how much I love her—with every touch, every word, and every action.

On Monday morning, Caleb, Briar, and I fly to New York. The city feels louder than I remember. The noise from the streets grated on my nerves during our car ride to my apartment, and I found myself missing the quiet of Bluebell—the sound of Caleb’s giggles as Ziggy bleats, and the soothing rustle of wind through the trees as I work alongside the guys in the field.

I thought being back at my penthouse might settle the unease in my chest, but the moment I stepped inside, it felt foreign. The space is more showroom than sanctuary—professionally decorated but cold. This summer taught me that home isn’t measured by square footage or decor, but by the people you share it with. The cottage is where Briar, Caleb, and I have made our most cherished memories, and being back in my apartment only reminds me of what’s waiting for us back in Bluebell.

After ordering takeout for dinner, Briar and I tucked Caleb in together. He begged for extra stories tonight, and we read every one he requested. Having him nestled between Briar and me, listening as we took turns reading to him, gave me aglimpse into a life I never imagined could be mine—one where he has siblings and Briar isn’t just the woman I love, but my wife.

I plan to soak in every moment as a family of three and figure out what life on the ranch will look like long-term. Still, it’s nice to know the road ahead is bright and full of promise.

I’m currently in my home office, sending off a round of emails to my team. I’ve decided to officially step back from DataLock Systems and hand over the reins to Carlton, who will serve as interim CEO until I determine my future involvement with the company. At present, I have a more pressing priority that will require my full attention in the months ahead.

I’m proud of the company I’ve built, but somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what truly matters. It’s time I shift my energy toward helping one of the people I love most chase her dreams. Once I’ve ironed out the details, and we’re back in Bluebell, I’ll share with Briar what I’ve been working on. For now, I’ve told her that I’m taking a much-needed break from corporate life, which is also true.

I hit send on the last email and close my laptop. After Caleb went to bed, Briar went to take a shower and call her friends, but she should be done by now. We haven’t had any alone time today, and I’m looking forward to cuddling on the couch while we take in the skyline—one of the few things I will miss about living in New York.

I’m halfway to the door when I pause, my gaze drifting to the banker box in the corner. Tony, Amelia’s lawyer, had it delivered the morning after we left for Bluebell. He didn’t say what was inside, only that it held personal items Amelia set aside for me. I’d told my assistant, Beth, to put it in my office so I could go through it once I returned.

I guess now’s as good a time as any.

I carry the box over to the couch along the far wall, and slowly open the lid, bracing myself for whatever Amelia left behind.

The first thing I see is a photo album labeledCaleb’s First Year.My hands shake as I take it out and lower myself onto the couch before opening to the first page. There’s a photo of Amelia in a hospital bed, cradling a newborn swaddled in a white flannel blanket with pink and blue stripes. She’s staring down at Caleb with tears shining in her eyes. I flip to the next page and see a picture of her leaning over the kitchen sink, bathing him in a plastic tub withFirst bathscribbled underneath.

There are several other albums in the box, each filled with snapshots of my son and his mom—birthdays, trips to the dinosaur museum, and many moments captured at home. Amelia meticulously documented every important milestone in Caleb’s life with handwritten notes below each photo. It’s like she knew from the start that her time was limited and wanted to leave a piece of herself for him to hold on to when she was gone.

As I take out the last album, I spot a white envelope tucked at the bottom of the box. My throat tightens as I pull it free, running my thumb over my name written on the front in looping cursive. I’ve wanted closure since I found out about Caleb, but now that there’s a possibility it’s within reach, I hesitate, bracing myself for the endless possibilities of what could be inside.

I tug at my collar, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. After a deep breath, I unfold the letter and begin to read.

Jensen,

By now, you’ve learned about Caleb, and naturally, you may be upset or have questions. I’ll try my best to answer them.

As a teenager, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The road to remission was grueling but coming out the other side pushed me to chase every goal with relentless focus. I went to college, then law school, and spent years working long hours at my firm—all in pursuit of making partner.

I rarely took time for myself, and the night with you was a rare exception. You were charming, hot as hell, and had me laughing more than I had in a while.

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