73 "i never stopped loving"

The music shifted—slower, fuller—and the chatter around us softened like the whole ranch took a breath at once.That's when I felt it before I saw it.My father.John moved through the crowd with that steady, immovable presence of his, hands shaking, clapping backs, nodding to people who looked at him like he'd hung the stars himself. Then his eyes lifted—and landed on me. He stopped.Really stopped.His gaze flicked from my face to Walker standing beside me. There was a beat of tension there, something sharp and protective, but it didn't last long. Not when he saw the way I was standing—how close I was to Walker without touching him. Not when he saw my face. John came closer, slower now.

"Willie," he said, low. Careful.

"Daddy," I answered, my voice small again, like I was sixteen and afraid of disappointing him.His eyes softened, then dropped to Patsy hovering near my leg. "Annndd you were Patsy. Right?!" He snapped his fingers in a point. Patsy straightened like she'd been waiting for this. "Yes! And your papa!," she said politely.John let out a quiet chuckle. "That so? I think you're right!" He held out a hand. "Would you do an old man the honor of a dance?"She looked at me first. I nodded. "Go on, baby."Her face lit up. "Okay!"John scooped her up like she weighed nothing at all, settling her against his chest as the slow song carried on. They swayed gently, his big hand supporting her back, her tiny arm draped around his neck like she'd done it a hundred times before. From where we stood, Walker went still. He stared at her like she was something holy."That's her," he murmured, barely audible. "She's... real."I smiled, soft and sad and proud all at once. "She's all curls and noise and opinions," I said. "Bossy as hell. She gets that from you."He glanced at me. "From me?"I nodded, pointing subtly. "Green eyes. That nose. And the way she argues like she's already won. Her laugh. It's all you walk" I glanced up at him. Lashes batting. A corner of his mouth lifted. "God," he breathed. "She looks just like you.""But louder," I teased.He huffed a quiet laugh, eyes never leaving Patsy. "Yeah... that checks out."I told him stories then—little ones. How she named the horses. How she talked in her sleep. How she once scolded Travis for cussing too loud. Each one cracked something open in him. I could see it in the way his jaw flexed, in how he swallowed hard like he didn't trust his voice."She sounds like trouble," he said."She is, just like her daddy" I replied. "The best kind."

John dipped Patsy gently, making her giggle so loud it made the room smile, and Walker's face broke into something dangerously close to tears. He caught himself, straightened, rough man through and through—but his eyes stayed glassy."You want a drink?" he asked suddenly, like he needed to do something with his hands.I shook my head. "No. Not tonight."He nodded, accepting it without question. We leaned back against one of the tent poles, canvas snapping softly above us in the breeze. He shifted closer—slow, deliberate. Close enough that I could feel his warmth. Close enough that it meant something.I didn't stop him. But when his hand brushed my waist, I gently caught his wrist. Not pushing him away. Just... setting the line.His eyes met mine immediately. "Okay," he said. "I hear you."

"Thank you," I whispered.He stayed right there anyway, shoulder brushing mine, presence solid and patient. The music carried on. Patsy laughed in my father's arms. Lights strung overhead flickered like stars. But as The music slowed even more, the kind that rocked instead of danced.I noticed it first... Patsy's weight going slack, her head dropping heavy against my father's chest. Her lashes rested on her cheeks, mouth parted just slightly, completely gone.I smiled despite the ache in my chest."She's out," I said softly. "It's past her bedtime."John looked down at her like she was made of glass. He stopped swaying, careful not to jostle her, and nodded. "Figured as much." He chuckled.  He turned toward Walker then—really looked at him. Not as a ranch hand. Not as a problem. As a man standing too close to his daughter and holding something precious without touching it.

"Here," John said quietly.

He shifted Patsy slowly, deliberately, placing her into Walker's arms. Walker stiffened at first, then adjusted instinctively, cradling her with a surprising gentleness. Patsy sighed in her sleep, one tiny hand fisting his shirt.John's voice dropped lower. "Be careful with them." Walker met his eyes. Didn't flinch."They're just girls," John continued. "Their hearts are fragile. Don't forget that."Walker nodded once. "I won't," he said. "I swear it." That seemed to be enough. John stepped back, gave Patsy one last look, then turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

I led Walker away from the lights, back toward my trailer tucked off to the side. The night was quieter there—just crickets and the low hum of music, laughter and generators in the distance. Walker carried Patsy like she'd always belonged there.Inside, he laid her down gently, tugged the blanket up to her chin, hesitating like he wanted to memorize the moment. He brushed a curl off her forehead with the back of his finger."She's beautiful," he murmured.

"I know," I said. "She's..a little bit of everything."We stepped back outside and leaned against the trailer, the metal still warm from the day. For a while, neither of us spoke. The weight of everything pressed in once the music was gone.Walker broke the silence. "So... Jimmy."My jaw tightened."What happened in Texas?" he asked. "Really."

I exhaled slowly. "I thought there was more," I admitted. "I thought... maybe it could be something real. I was wrong."He glanced at me. "You sleep with him?"

I sighed. Hesitant. Knowing walker being the one and only seemed sacred"Yes."The word came out clean. Honest. It still hurt anyway.Walker nodded, jaw flexing. "You loved him?"I shook my head. "I loved the idea of not being alone. I loved thinking someone chose me forOnce..." My voice cracked. "Turns out I chose wrong."He didn't touch me. Didn't interrupt. Just listened.After a moment, I asked, quieter, "What about Laramie?" His eyes shifted toward the dark. "What about her?"

"What was going on between you two?" I pressed. "And... did I leave a scar when I went after her?"He gave a small, humorless breath. "Yeah. You did." I didn't apologize. Just nodded, accepting it.

"Are you and her... continuing?" I asked. "Is it serious?"

Walker turned fully toward me then. "No," he said plainly. "It wasn't that. It was noise. Distraction."

"So you're not—""No," he cut in gently. "There's nothing there."The air between us felt heavy again—but different now. Honest. Raw.We stayed leaning there, shoulder to shoulder, the trailer creaking softly as Patsy slept inside.

We stayed there a long time, the trailer wall cool against my back, the night pressing in around us like it wanted to listen too.Walker broke first."You got no idea how many times I thought about comin' after you," he said quietly. "How many nights I sat there wonderin' if you were safe. If you hated me. If you'd already moved on."

I swallowed. "You could've come."

"I know," he admitted. "That's the part that eats at me."I crossed my arms, hugging myself. "I waited. Longer than I should've. Every sound outside that trailer, I thought it was you. Every knock. Every truck."His voice dropped. "It was a mistake."I looked at him then. Really looked. "You were scared. There's a difference."He shook his head. "Doesn't make it hurt less."

"No," I whispered. "It doesn't."Silence settled again, thicker this time. I could hear Patsy's soft breathing through the thin wall, each inhale grounding me.Walker glanced toward the trailer. "Does she... know about me?""She knows her daddy exists. She knows he's in Montana," I said. "I'd like her to know.. soon.. but I'm not sure if... I can trust I won't be heart broken again.. because walker.. if you hurt me..you'll hurt her too"

His throat bobbed. "I know.. I know."

"You don't get to decide that either," I said gently, echoing my own words from earlier. He nodded slowly. "I want to. If you'll let me."I hesitated. "I don't know what that looks like yet."

"That's okay," he said quickly. "I ain't askin' for everything. I just... don't want to be shut out anymore."I sighed, rubbing my arms. "I'm tired, Walker. I'm tired of being hurt. Tired of being the one who bleeds and forgives."He shifted closer, careful, like he was approaching a skittish horse. "I won't touch you unless you ask me to. I won't push. I won't disappear again."I glanced at him. "You promise?"His eyes held mine. "On my life."That scared me more than it comforted me."I was broken when I found Jimmy," I admitted. "And when he hurt me... it cracked something open again. I don't know if I can survive that another time."Walker's voice softened. "Then don't survive it alone."I laughed weakly. "You make it sound easy."

"It ain't," he said. "But it's worth tryin'."I studied his face—the lines, the familiarity, the man I'd loved and never really stopped loving.

"You still hurt me," I said.

"I know."

"And I still want you," I confessed, barely audible.He closed his eyes for a second, like he needed the restraint. "Then we're both in trouble."I smiled sadly. "Yeah."We didn't kiss. Didn't reach for each other.Instead, we stood there in the dark, sharing truth like it was something fragile—something that could finally survive if we handled it right.  "Wanna come have a drink with the boys?" He asked after some time. I shook my head "I think I'll turn in. I have a toddler to chase around tomorrow"

"Good thinking... good night mama"

I bowed my head with a smile as I opened the trailer door. "Goodnight daddy"

....