Page 83 of Promised to the Cowboy

The cool night air catches my face as I step out onto the porch.

“You’re leaving.”

I startle and whip my head around.

Maggie sits in one of the rocking chairs, wrapped in her old knitted cardigan, apron still on, a mug cradled between both hands. Moonlight catches the silver in her hair as she watches me over the rim of her cup. She doesn’t look surprised. She doesn’t even look disappointed. Just... sad.

I raise my chin. “It’s safer.”

She arches an eyebrow. “For who?”

“Everyone.”

She studies me for a long moment. “No. It’s safer for you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I understand just fine.” Maggie’s voice is impossibly gentle.

She sets her mug on the small table beside her. “Come here.”

My feet move before my brain catches up. I don’t sit. I can’t. If I sit down, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave.

Maggie notices. “You’ve already decided.”

I nod. “They turned down millions because of me. They stood up to Alexander because of me. They’re changing everything because of me.” My voice cracks. “What if next time someone gets hurt? What if they lose this ranch? Lose everything they’ve built? What if?—”

“What if they don’t?”

Maggie’s words stop me cold. I stare at her.

She reaches over and gently squeezes my hand. “Your mama gave you love.”

I frown, wondering where this is going. “She did.”

“What did your father give you?”

I laugh without humor. “Money.”

“Anything else?”

I think about it.

Birthdays I spent waiting for him to call. The checks that always arrived and the silence that came with them.

I shake my head. “No.”

Maggie studies me for a long moment. “Has any man ever loved you the way Gabriel does?”

The answer comes immediately. “No.”

“Have you ever loved a man the way you love him?”

My breath catches. I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

Maggie nods as though I’ve spoken aloud. “Then you’re standing in the middle of something you’ve never done before. You’re in love with a man who’s in love with you.”

She glances at the bag beside my feet. “So tell me, honey, why are you standing on my porch with a packed bag instead of waking the man who loves you and letting him help?”