Page 92 of Wrangled Love

After setting out the food and thermos, I ease onto the blanket, reclining on my side and propping myself on one elbow. I take off my hat and set it aside before motioning for Briar to join me. She lowers herself down, stretching out on her stomach to face me, her hand brushing against mine as she lets out a contented sigh.

She takes a grape and pops it into her mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you glad you brought Caleb to Bluebell?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “It’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

In more ways than I expected.

Briar’s been a guiding light for Caleb, offering him patience and love from the moment she met him. She’ll never replace Amelia, but she’s created space for him to grieve and heal, which I couldn’t have done on my own. My feelings for her are a tangled mix of gratitude, admiration, and a magnetic pull so fierce it pushes the boundaries between reality and fantasy.

As much as we need to talk about what happens when summer ends, I’ve been avoiding it. The past few weeks have been incredible—both in terms of my time spent with Briar and the joy of hearing Caleb speak again. I have to make several big decisions, but for just one more night, I want to pretend that nothing is changing and this little world we’ve built is here to stay.

Briar toys with a loose strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. “I’ve been wanting to ask for a while… Why did you leave Bluebell in the first place? I know things were bad with your parents, but you had the Halsteads, too.” Her eyes flicker to mine, and she quickly adds, “You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not talk about it.”

In the past, I would’ve shut down and gotten defensive, but it turns out Caleb’s not the only one benefiting from therapy. After several conversations with his therapist, I’ve learned the value of being open to talking things through, even when the topics bring up old wounds.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing,” I say with a small smile. “My parents owned a small farm across town. It wasn’t much, but it was ours. We had a cow, chickens, and ducks that would follow me around. I used to picture taking over the farm one day, making it into something as successful as Silver Saddle Ranch.” I reach for a piece of bread and brie, using it as a pause to collect my thoughts. “That dream crumbled when we lost the place to foreclosure. Thehardest part was how indifferent my parents were about it. They didn’t care that we had to move into a mold-infested trailer with sagging floors and the smell of rat droppings or that the cupboards were always empty. As long as they could fuel their addiction to cards and slot machines, nothing else mattered.”

Their addiction didn’t happen overnight. It was a slow trickle, and our lives didn’t drastically change until we lost the farm. They had done their best to hide the financial issues, so by the time I found out, it was too late. The one silver lining when we were forced to move was that the Halsteads took in my animals, so I still got to see them often.

Briar rests her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Jensen.”

“The Halsteads were like family, but it stung watching their happiness while my life was falling apart.” I shift my gaze to the stream, watching the water ripple over the rocks as I speak. “My parents didn’t love each other, and I was an afterthought. I learned early on that relying on people only gave them the power to let me down.”

“I can understand why you kept your guard up.” She traces small circles along my arm. “Is that why you left? Was starting your own business always the plan?”

“Back in high school, I discovered my knack for computers. I knew if I wanted a future in tech, I had to leave Bluebell. So I worked summers at the ranch, saved every dollar, and after graduation, I moved to New York. It couldn’t have been more different from here, and that’s exactly what I wanted. I enrolled in a programming course and immersed myself in the tech world, learning as I went.”

There was a time when I wasn’t sure if I’d make it or be forced to return home, worse off than my parents. But I refused to settle and each risk pushed me forward, guiding me to the next hurdle until I got my lucky break. I fixed a critical bug for a small startuppro bono, and they hired me full-time, giving me the stability to eventually launch my own venture.

“I started my company from the ground up after talking to a friend in security who said the market was flooded with outdated systems.” I take a bite of bread and brie, chewing slowly. “Those early days were exhilarating. I faced rejection at every turn, from investors to potential clients. Each ‘no’ only made me more determined to prove them all wrong and show them what I was capable of.”

“Which you did, and then some,” Briar says proudly.

“True, but success comes at a price.” I blow out a deep breath. “Being CEO of a large corporation means nonstop board meetings, endless forecasts, and keeping shareholders happy. In the early days, it was about diving into code, solving problems, and chasing an idea until a solution worked. Somewhere along the way, I traded that for spreadsheets and approval chains.”

That doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful for my success, but it’s made things feel less fulfilling, more about obligation than passion.

“I spent so long chasing success that I never stopped to appreciate the milestones I hit along the way. But then the call about Caleb came, and in an instant, everything I’d spent a decade building didn’t matter much anymore.”

Even before I found out about Caleb, my job had started to feel hollow, and I often questioned what success meant beyond the financial compensation and my title. I convinced myself that stability was essential because of my past, fearing I’d lose it all if I slowed down, but the truth is, I could’ve stepped back years ago and been financially set for life.

That’s only been further proven since coming to Bluebell. My company thrives despite significantly cutting back my hours and delegating many daily tasks to Carlton and my assistant.

I assumed returning to my hometown would be unbearable, a sacrifice I made for Caleb because I couldn’t handle it alone.Now, I realize how much I’ve missed the peace and simplicity. It was once tainted by my parents and painful memories, but now that I’ve had a chance to create new ones, it’s a place where I can finally leave the past behind and start fresh.

The one constant I’ve always had is the Halsteads. When I was younger, I didn’t fully appreciate the connection I shared with them, but being back has opened my eyes to the love they’ve always shown me, even when I was away. And Caleb is now included in that bond, which I’m deeply thankful for. The one variable I didn’t account for was Briar—and how my heart races whenever she walks into a room, or how natural it is to watch her hugging Caleb like he belongs in her arms.

We’re both quiet as we eat, every so often bringing up our favorite moments with Caleb and Ziggy, along with stories about Briar’s job maintaining the cabins. She has an endless supply of those. Between bites, I find myself touching her—brushing her cheek, wiping hot chocolate from her lips, and running my hand along her arm. I can’t seem to keep my hands off her, but based on how she leans into me, it’s obvious she craves my touch like I do hers.

Once we’ve finished with our picnic, and the plate and thermos have been pushed aside, we cuddle on the blanket. Briar is nestled against me, her leg draped over mine as I run my fingers through her hair. The sun dips below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of peach and lavender.

Fireflies begin to flicker in the grass, their tiny lights sparkling like distant stars. They only come out a few times a year, so we’re lucky to see them tonight. We should be heading back to the ranch house soon, but neither of us wants to let the moment slip away, so we stay in the fading warmth of the disappearing daylight as long as possible.

Briar tips her chin to meet my gaze. “Tonight’s been perfect.”

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