Page 32 of Claimed By the Cowboy
Delaney’s face tightens, pain flickering in her eyes.
“I don’t want to be the girl who’s only safe if someone else is managing her life,” I finish, chest heaving.
Delaney stands and reaches for me. “Kitty, I?—”
“No.” I step back. “I don’t want to be handed over like a solution to a problem. I’ve spent my whole life following everyone else’s plan. First our parents, then you, then this whole ranch arrangement.” My voice cracks. “Does anyone even care whatIwant?”
Delaney looks stricken. “That’s not what I meant?—”
“I know,” I say quickly. “But it’s how it feels.”
Tom takes a step toward me, but I shake my head.
“I need some air. I need tobreathe. I need... space.”
I turn and walk out the back door, boots thudding against the porch steps as I flee into the afternoon light.
I don’t go far. Just to the new barn with the stripes of sage that Tom and I painted, where the land opens wide and the sun spills across the grass in long, forgiving shadows. I wrap my arms around myself and stand there, shaking—not from cold, but from everything that just happened.
Footsteps approach, soft but sure.
Delaney stops beside me. “I wasn’t trying to control you.”
“I know,” I whisper.
We stand in silence, the warm wind tugging strands of hair across my face. Finally, I say, “I need to feel like someone seesme—not the little sister who needs protecting. Not the one everyone decides things for.”
Delaney exhales, long and quiet. “I’ve been doing that, haven’t I?”
I shrug. “You didn’t mean to. But yeah.”
“When Mom and Dad died, I was drowning,” she admits quietly. “Eighteen years old, and suddenly, I had to be everything. I didn’t know how to grieve and protect you at the same time, so I skipped the grieving part. I went into survival mode and just… stayed there.”
I glance at her, and for once, she’s not composed or in control. She looks raw. Real.
“You gave up everything,” I whisper.
“So did you,” she replies. “You lost your childhood. And I never let you grow out of that role.”
A breeze stirs the grass. We both look out over the ranch, the sun slanting across the pasture. For a moment, I see us as we were years ago—two sisters clinging to each other in a too-small apartment, scared of everything but certain we at least had each other.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Delaney says, voice breaking. “Not over this. Not after everything we’ve survived.”
“You’re not losing me,” I whisper fiercely. “You never could. But I need to choose what comes next. Not for safety. Not for someone else’s plan.For me. For once in my life, I want something wild and selfish and mine.”
She nods, tears spilling now. “Then do it. Be brave. You’ve earned it.”
I turn to her, startled.
Her mouth lifts in a trembling smile. “I’m tired of making all the choices, Kitty. Tired of holding up the world.”
I’ve always known my sister sacrificed for me—knew she worked herself raw and carried more weight than anyone should have at her age—but standing here now, Iseeit. The shadows under her eyes, the brittleness in her voice, the way her shoulders sag as if she’s only now letting herself feel the years of strain.
All those nights she sat up with me through asthma attacks. The times she went without dinner so I could eat. The endless jobs she juggled, the careful lists and plans, the way she tried to hold everything together when she was barely more than a kid herself.
I thought I understood, but I didn’t. Not really. Not until this moment, when Irealize how heavy the burden has been and how much she’s willing to carry, even now that we’re safe.
My heart aches. For her. For both of us.
