Page 4 of Miles

January 12th, May 26th, and August 28th.

Emma’s birthday.

Our wedding anniversary.

And then, the date she passed.

Rain or shine—every year, every date—I watch the horizon with her. Because if she were still with me, I know she’d be on her horse, galloping into the sunset. Literally.

Just like she did then. Before the cancer set in.

It’s the reason there’s a porch swing overlooking our ranch at every property I own. It was the very first thing I built into this house when I moved here after Birdie accepted the deed to her childhood home.

A single tear forms as the clouds flow.

I don’t know if ghosts are real. I don’t even know if there’s a heaven, a hell, or a random afterlife led by a man named George.

But one thing I do know? If Emma were here, she’d be happy.

And that’s all I want.

When her hand went limp in mine all those years ago… I vowed one thing to her. The exact same vow I said on our wedding day. Shit, it was probably a vow I made to myself when I met her on the fucking playground near our childhood homes.

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow. And if you happen to go somewhere where I can’t… then I guess I’ll just have to live like you’re with me anyway, because there is no me without you.”

And I meant every single goddamn word.

As the colors fade from the sky, filling the space with a dusky blue, I swallow against the scratchy sensation in my throat and give Macy’s sides a squeeze with my legs, urging her forward so we can get back home.

Normally, I’d stay until the stars lined the sky.

But tonight is a special night.

Steam wafts into the bedroom as I exit the en suite bathroom, heading directly to the closet on the other side of the room. Nearly everything has been customized in this house for my utmost convenience and luxury, and if there was one thing I refused to budge on, it was me having to leave my bedroom for any reason when there are already so many employees who roam throughout the space.

Fellow ranchers and cowboys who aid Sunrock Valley, Kayla and Collin who help with social media and accounting, and of course, the random stragglers when a cowboy happens to get laid.

Yeah, no. My space is my own.

No free cock shows to staff or fellow cowboys.

My own eyebrows scrunch up at that thought.

Cowboys? Since when have I ever thought about cowboys?

I look down into the glass of whiskey I’ve emptied and refilled numerous times since being home. The glass is empty again, but the bottle of bourbon is still sitting on the kitchen island.

The room I nearly sprinted out of when Kayla and Collin’s car rolled into the driveway—likely from their date night.

So much for not leaving this damn room until it’s time to go.

With my towel wrapped around my waist, I glare at the tumbler. “I blame you for my stupid thoughts.”

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I walk to the kitchen, snatch the bottle of bourbon still on the counter, and tiptoe back to my room. Except, the distinct sound of hushed tones pulls me in the other direction instead.

Right toward Kayla and Collin’s room.

At first, silence encompasses the hallway. I go to move, feeling like an absolute creep as I stand here in a fucking towel outside of my employees’ door, until a new sound registers in my foggy brain.