Firefly Night

CHAPTER 13

Mornings had a way of bringing clarity, and today, it was more than welcome. The light filtering through the curtains wasn't harsh; it was gentle, wrapping the room in a warm glow that seemed to soften the edges of everything that had felt so sharp the night before. I shifted under the quilt, the memories of the previous night washing over me like a wave.

Colt was still beside me, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his breathing slow and steady. We had finally talked—really talked—and for the first time in what felt like forever, I knew where we stood. The tension that had been between us, all the misunderstandings and unsaid words, had been stripped away, leaving something raw but real in its place. And then we kissed. A slow kiss that had sealed whatever it was that had been building between us for so long. It wasn't just relief I felt this morning; it was a quiet kind of happiness, a certainty that whatever came next, we'd face it together.

But with that clarity came other memories, ones that weren't so easily pushed aside. Rhett. The kiss I had shared with him lingered in my mind, a confusing mix of guilt and something else—something I didn't want to name. It had felt wrong, of course it had, but why had it also felt so right in the moment? I blamed the alcohol, the loneliness, the way I'd felt so lost. But even now, in the clear light of day, I couldn't entirely shake the way his touch had made me feel, the way he'd looked at me as if he understood everything I was going through.

The sharp ring of the phone broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I reached for it, my heart giving a little jump, half expecting the weight of everything to come crashing back down on me.

"Hello?" I managed, my voice still rough with sleep.

"Is this Lemon Odell?" The voice on the other end was crisp, professional, but there was a hint of something else—urgency, maybe, or worry.

"Yes, this is she," I replied, already bracing myself for whatever was coming. Early morning calls rarely brought good news.

"This is Sarah from the Wyoming Rescue Coalition. We've just received a wild mustang that was rescued from a dire situation. Most of our regular foster locations are full, and we're reaching out to see if you might have room to take her in. I know it's short notice, but you're on our volunteer list, and we're running out of options."

A wild mustang. The words hit me like a splash of cold water, pulling me fully into the moment. I glanced over at Colt, still asleep, his face relaxed in a way that made me want to crawl back under the covers and pretend the world outside didn't exist. But it did, and this call was a reminder that life didn't pause for anyone's personal dramas.

I stood up, moving to the window, where the morning light painted the world in soft pastels. The ranch was quiet, peaceful, but I knew how much work it took to keep it that way. The thought of adding a wild mustang to the mix made my heart race a little faster, but there was also a tug, a familiar pull that I knew I couldn't ignore. This was what I did—what we did. We took in the broken, the lost, and gave them a second chance.

"Can you tell me more about her?" I asked, needing more details before I made a decision.

"She's a five-year-old mare," Sarah explained, her voice softening. "She was part of a herd that was rounded up a few months ago. She's been through a lot, and she's skittish, but she's not aggressive. She just needs a quiet place where she can start to heal, where someone can work with her slowly."

The weight of responsibility settled over me, familiar but still daunting. I turned back to Colt, watching him for a moment, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. We were finally in a good place, and I didn't want to jeopardize that by taking on more than we could handle. But I also knew that if we didn't take her in, who would? And what would happen to her if no one did?