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The answer comes immediately.
She has a brother she loves, and a life back in Virginia with friends, history, and people who knew her long before she ended up on a ranch in Montana, surrounded by three idiots who smell like horses half the time.
I drag a hand through my hair.
The logic sounds solid enough until I picture her packing her bags and leaving. Then suddenly, it doesn't feel solid at all. The image twists something in my chest, and I settle a hand over my heart to make sure I’m okay.
Because I don't picture her leaving the ranch. I picture the empty chair at the kitchen table, the couch without her curled up in the corner reading, and even the damn chicken barn with nobody arguing with the birds.
The longer I sit here alone, the more every noble reason I've been hiding behind starts looking suspiciously selfish.
I lean back against the headboard and stare at the ceiling.
The worst part is, Clint was right.
I hate that Clint was right.
The heat isn't the reason any of this happened, it just made it impossible to keep pretending.
Autumn was already woven into everything before that. We were blind, or completely fucking stupid, to not see that she was our scent match.
Because that's really what this comes down to.
She’s my… our scent match, the omega we’ve been hoping for, but given up hope of finding. I know it, Clint knows it, Tripp definitely knows it because that idiot announced it to half the county.
For me, the problem isn't the scent match, it’s what comes after.
Because finding her is one thing, but asking her to stay? That’s something else entirely.
What exactly am I offering her?
A ranch, rodeos, early mornings, fence repairs, horse trailers, and mud. It’s a life built around livestock and weather forecasts.
Hell of a sales pitch.
A bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
The stupid part is, I know she'd probably love it. She's already proven she loves it. We can all see it in her face and body when she steps outside. She loves the ranch, the animals, hell, even driving here tonight. She’s liking the rodeo.
My jaw tightens slightly.
Can she love us?
The thing keeping me awake isn't whether I want her. I crossed that bridge weeks ago. It's whether she wants this enough to stay when Hunter finally tells her she can come home.
Will she look at Virginia and Montana, and choose us anyway?
Three quick taps sound against the door.
I push off the bed and cross the room. The second I open the door, Tripp takes one look at me and shakes his head.
"You look awful."
"Get bent."
His grin widens. "Clint ordered pizza."
I stare at him but he only stares right back. Then he adds the part he knows will matter.
