Chapter 25

25

STEPHANIE

T he sun cast long shadows across the rolling hills as I rode Phantom

through the familiar trails of the ranch. The rhythmic thud of his hooves against the earth matched the steady beat of my heart, a comforting rhythm that usually brought me solace. But today, as I

guided him through the winding paths, I could feel a heaviness in the air—a sadness that seemed to seep from his very soul.

Phantom had always been a powerful horse, strong and spirited, yet today he felt different. There was a yearning in his movements, a longing that echoed the unspoken tension that had settled over the ranch since Ashlyn's departure. I could sense his unease, his restlessness, and it mirrored my own tumultuous emotions.

"Come on, buddy," I murmured, urging him forward, but the gentle pressure of my legs against his sides seemed to only deepen his melancholy. It was as if he were aware of the absence of the one person who had truly understood him, the one who had taught him calm amongst the chaos. I could almost hear the whispers of his heart. He missed Ashlyn as much as I did.

As we neared the stables, Phantom's ears perked up and I felt a surge of excitement pulse through him. He began to whinny, a sound filled with both hope and anticipation. I could sense the shift in his demeanor. He was eager to see Ashlyn again, to feel her presence near him once more.

"Easy, boy," I said softly, patting his neck as I dismounted. I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, even if it tugged at my own heartstrings. The bond we shared was unbreakable, built on trust and respect. But now, it felt strained under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

As I entered the stables, the familiar scent enveloped me, bringing with it a sense of comfort. But that comfort was short-lived when I caught sight of Ashlyn standing there, her cowgirl silhouette framed by the fading light. She was brushing down one of the other horses, her movements fluid and practiced, yet there was an air of vulnerability about her that struck me.

The moment our eyes met, I felt the air between us crackle with an intensity that made my heart race. Ashlyn's gaze was filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. I couldn't help but feel

a pang of empathy for her. She looked so beautiful, even with the shadows lingering beneath her eyes. A testament to the sleepless nights and restless thoughts that had clearly haunted her as they had me since she left.

Phantom stepped forward, his excitement palpable, and I could see how Ashlyn's expression brightened at the sight of him. It was as if a light had flickered back to life in her eyes. I watched in silence as she approached, her hands reaching out to stroke his powerful neck. The

connection between them was undeniable. An unspoken bond that transcended words.

Seeing her there, so close yet so distant, brought a flood of emotions rushing to the surface. I was happy to see her, yes, but that happiness was tangled up in a web of hurt and betrayal that I hadn't fully processed. The way she had left, the secrets she had kept—it had all left a deep wound that hadn't yet healed. And now, standing in front of her, those old wounds felt fresh, as if no time had passed at all.

I watched as she interacted with Phantom, the tenderness in her touch and the way she seemed to find solace in his presence. It reminded me of the connection we had once shared, a connection

that now felt like it was teetering on the edge of a precipice. Part of me wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between us, but another part held back, guarded, unwilling to let go of the pain that

still lingered.

Ashlyn looked up at me, her eyes searching mine, as if trying to gauge my reaction. I held her gaze for a moment, feeling the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between us. There was so

much to say, so much that needed to be addressed. But I wasn't ready. Not yet.

Without a word, I turned away, focusing on unfastening Phantom's bridle and leading him into his stall. My movements were mechanical, methodical, a way to keep my emotions in check. I could

feel Ashlyn's presence behind me, the weight of her gaze like a physical touch. But I didn't turn around.

As I tended to Phantom, brushing down his coat and murmuring soothing words to him, I tried to steady my breathing, to calm the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. I wasn't sure

how to feel. Wasn't sure if I could ever truly forgive her for the way she had left, and for the secrets she had kept.

When I finally turned back, Ashlyn was still standing there, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat.

Instead, I simply nodded at her, a small gesture that I hoped conveyed the complex emotions I couldn't yet articulate.

Without another word, I walked past her, feeling the tension between us like a taut wire ready to snap. As I left the stables, the cool evening air hit my face, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

I stepped out of the stables and the cool evening air wrapped around me, offering a brief respite from the storm of emotions that churned inside me. I was just about to head back to the house when I heard footsteps behind me, quick and urgent. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was—Ashlyn.

"Stephanie, wait!" Her voice was breathless, desperate, and before I could react, she was in front of me, blocking my path. Her eyes were wide, pleading, and I could see the strain in every line of her face. "Please, just listen to me."

I felt a tightness in my chest, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over me. I wanted to walk away, to shield myself from whatever she was about to say, but something in her voice, in the raw vulnerability etched on her face, made me pause.

"Ashlyn . . . " I began, but she cut me off, her voice trembling.

"Please, Stephanie. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I can't even begin to express how sorry I am. But I need you to give me one more chance. Just one more chance to explain, to tell you everything." Her words tumbled out in a rush, as if she was afraid that if she stopped speaking, I would slip away.

I looked at her, really looked at her, and I could see the weight of her regret, the desperation in her eyes. It was clear that whatever she had been holding back had taken its toll on her, and that she was laying it all out in front of me now, raw and exposed.

"Ashlyn, I . . ." I tried again, my voice faltering. The walls I had built around my heart felt like they were crumbling, but the hurt was still there, too fresh, too deep. "I don't know if I can?—"

"Please," she interrupted, her voice cracking. She stepped closer, her hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching me, as if she was afraid I might pull away. "Please, Stephanie. I'll tell you everything. I'll be completely honest. Just . . . don't walk away from me. Not yet. I can't lose you without trying to make things right."

I stood there, my mind racing and my heart torn between the anger and pain that still lingered. Not to mention the undeniable pull I felt toward her. I could see the sincerity in her eyes, the fear of losing me etched into her every feature. The woman standing before me wasn't the confident, assured Ashlyn I had first met. This was someone who had been stripped down to her core, someone who was genuinely afraid of what the future might hold without me in it.

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, filled with all the unspoken words, the hurt, and the love that had once been so strong. I wanted to protect myself, to turn away and preserve whatever was

left of my shattered heart. But I also knew that if I walked away now, if I didn't at least hear her out,

I might regret it for the rest of my life.

Taking a deep breath, I finally met her gaze. "Okay," I said softly, the word escaping before I had

time to reconsider. "Okay, Ashlyn. I'll listen. But I need you to be honest with me. Completely honest."

A look of relief washed over her face, her shoulders sagging slightly as if a heavy burden had just been lifted. "I will," she promised, her voice firm despite the tears glistening in her eyes. "I'll tell you everything, Stephanie. I just need you to know how much I care about you, how much I've always cared."

I nodded, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. "Then let's talk," I said, my voice steadier now. "But not here. Let's go somewhere quiet."

She nodded quickly, her relief palpable, and together we walked back toward the house, the silence between us now less about the distance and more about the tentative hope that maybe—just maybe—we could begin to mend what had been broken. But as much as I wanted to believe that things could be fixed, I knew that the road ahead would be difficult, filled with hard truths and even harder choices. Still, for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to hope.