Page 73 of Wrangled Love

Watching Caleb and Cooper together, I’m reminded that pain doesn’t care what stage of life you’re in. It takes freely and without reason or mercy. Caleb lost his mom, and Cooper carries scars from his military service that he’d rather not talk about. Yet, here, in the stillness of this sanctuary, surrounded by fresh air and the calming presence of a horse, pain is forced to loosen its grip—if only for a moment.

This is why I believe that my nonprofit has the power to change lives. When kids are given the space to connect, they can begin to let go of what’s been holding them back.

When my mom left town and I moved in with the Halsteads, I spent endless hours in my room, shutting myself off from everyone. In hindsight, I was struggling with depression and the loss ofbeing left behind. One of the things that pulled me through my darkest moments was Heath and Walker making me go on weekly horseback rides. Each one brought me a sense of peace and allowed me to heal from my childhood traumas.

Horses offer healing rooted in compassion, patience, and trust. Just one piece of the larger vision I’m working toward, and Caleb is quickly becoming my biggest reason to keep going until my dream becomes a reality.

Once Caleb finishes feeding Magnolia, we head back to the cottage. Mama Julie and Pops are in town running errands, so I offered to make lunch for Jensen, my brothers, and the ranch hands. It’s sweltering hot, so I pack a cooler with sweet tea and water to go along with their ham and cheese sandwiches. It’s a simple affair but should keep them fueled till dinner. Mama Julie always hosts a big barbecue after a long day of hauling hay or moving cattle.

I’m standing at the kitchen counter with Caleb beside me on a stool, his tongue poking out in concentration. I slather mayo and mustard onto the bread, and once I slide a piece his way, he carefully lays down a slice of cheese.

“You’re mighty good at this, Chef Caleb.”

He grins, puffing out his chest.

After adding the condiments, I circle to his other side and add the ham to each sandwich before putting the final piece of bread on top of each.

“Alright, little man. Go wash your hands and put your shoes on so we can take your dad and the guys their lunch.”

He hops off the stool and darts out of the kitchen. I finish wrapping the sandwiches and stack them into a reusable bag. I’ve already loaded the drinks into my Jeep, so the hard part is finished.

I’ve just put away the leftover ingredients when Caleb comes back in wearing a pair of boots Pops gave him. He stumbles every few steps, and I notice they’re on the wrong feet. Each time he catches himself, he lets out an impatient huff.

“Thanks for listening, bud. Could I fix your shoes so it’s easier to walk?”

He frowns, glancing down at his feet before nodding.

I crouch in front of him, his small hands gripping my shoulders for balance. While I switch his shoes, he absently twirls a piece of my hair. It’s such a small thing, but it melts my heart to see how at ease he is with me.

No one could ever replace his mom, but I’m doing my best to show him a fraction of the safety and warmth I’m certain she did. I just hope that his time in Bluebell, surrounded by people who love him, has been enough to help him break through the walls he’s built. He deserves to rediscover what it means to be a kid again without carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When his boots are on the right feet, I give them a light pat on the top. “You’re all set. Ready to head out?”

He gives me a thumbs-up before running over to the kitchen table to grab the basket filled with apples.

“You’re the best helper,” I say, grabbing the bag of sandwiches from the counter.

He bites his lip, eyes locked on the fruit in his hands, making sure he doesn’t drop any.

Once we’re in the car, I roll down the windows and tune into a local country radio station. It’s become a tradition for Caleb and me whenever we drive together. He bobs his head to the music,one hand stretched out the back window, fingers catching in the breeze as we cruise through the ranch.

“I love my new rubber duck,” I say over my shoulder. “Thanks for getting it for me. It fits right in next to the unicorn one from my friend Birdie.”

Caleb looks my way with a smile.

After a trip to the toy store last week, he brought me home a lime-green duck shaped like a T-Rex, with orange spikes running down its back and a tail curling behind it. Jensen helped him pick it out, and it’s touching that they went out of their way to find something I’d appreciate. Jensen’s attention to my likes and dislikes means a lot, especially when he gets Caleb involved in turning a small gift into a meaningful memory.

My new dino rubber duck is the perfect addition to the collection and now holds the center spot on my console.

The tires crunch over gravel as I pull up beside the field where everyone is working. Heath is operating the tractor, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the rows are feeding evenly, clouds of dust rising behind him in thick plumes. Jensen, Walker, and the ranch hands work nearby with a front-end loader, scooping the bales and loading them onto a flatbed truck parked at the edge of the field near my Jeep. This operation is like a well-oiled machine.

My gaze drifts to Jensen, his white shirt soaked with sweat, clinging to his back as he lifts another bale onto the truck. The cowboy hat he’s wearing is downright sexy, and I remember exactly what that body is capable of—his strong hands gripping my thighs and his mouth on mine, rough and urgent.

As soon as he spots my Jeep, he wipes the sweat from his brow and lifts a hand in greeting.

I exhale, forcing myself to rein in my fantasy. Now isn’t the time or place to have lusty thoughts.

“Come on, little man,” I say over my shoulder to Caleb. “Theylook like they could use a break, and your dad sure seems excited to see you.”

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