#morgan: thread

Morgan Weston stood in the middle of the bustling grocery store, shifting from one booted foot to the other as he stared at a display of chocolates. His fingers absently stroked his beard, a habit when he was deep in thought. The store was packed with holiday shoppers, the hum of carols playing faintly in the background blending with the chatter of customers and the squeak of cart wheels.

He’d been walking these aisles for nearly an hour, feeling more like a lost kid than the easy-going cowboy he was known to be. His cart was empty except for a box of crackers he’d grabbed on a whim.

Puck’s Chrismakkah party was tonight, and Morgan couldn’t show up empty-handed. Thanksgiving had been a delicate balancing act - his relationship with Puck and Eva felt like trying to keep a loose saddle steady on a wild horse. Both of them had kissed him since then, separately, leaving his heart in knots. Now, as the holidays rolled around, he wrestled with whether there was any real hope for them, or if it was just wishful thinking on his part.

"Flowers again?" he mumbled to himself. He shook his head. Thanksgiving had been flowers. It felt repetitive, uninspired. Wine was out - Puck and Eva didn’t drink. Morgan wasn’t about to show up with something impersonal like a candle, either. This wasn’t just any party. It was Puck's party, Eva was probably going to be there, and he wanted what he brought, to matter.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the older man at the sample station waving at him until he was almost in front of it. “Hello there, son,” the man greeted warmly, holding out a small square of gingerbread on a napkin. He had a kind face framed by a thick white beard and was dressed in a festive red sweater adorned with embroidered snowflakes. His belly shook a little as he chuckled, though Morgan wouldn’t dare call him Santa out loud.

“Afternoon,” Morgan said, managing a polite smile as he accepted the gingerbread. He read the nametag on his red sweater briefly. Nick. “You look like you’re trying to solve the meaning of life,” Nick teased gently. “Gotta say, the holidays’ll do that to you.”

Morgan chuckled softly. “Feels like it, yeah. Got a party to go to, and I can’t figure out what to bring.” The older man studied him for a moment. “Special party?” Morgan hesitated but nodded. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Ah,” Nick said knowingly. “The kind where what you bring says a little something about how you feel?” Morgan’s brows lifted in surprise. “How’d you guess?”

“Seen plenty of fellas like you come through here this time of year.” The man leaned on the counter as if settling in to chat. “Here’s the thing: if it’s about showing you care, what you bring doesn’t have to be fancy. Just thoughtful. What kind of folks are you visiting?”

Morgan thought for a moment. “They’re... warm, generous. They’ve been through a lot, and they mean the world to me.” His voice softened. “More than I probably let on.”

The older man smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Sounds like good folks. You know, sometimes the best gifts aren't something you pick off a shelf. Maybe it’s something that reminds them of who they are to you.” Morgan tilted his head. “Like what?”

Nick glanced at Morgan’s cart, then back at him. “Got a picture with these people? Something from a time you were happy together? Put it in a nice frame, wrap it up. That way, every time they see it, they’ll think about what you shared - and what you still could have.” Morgan blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the idea. “A picture?”

The jolly man nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Doesn’t have to be fancy. Just something from the heart. Best thing about this time of year - it’s about remembering what matters most. And it sounds to me like they matter a whole lot to you.” Morgan felt something in his chest loosen, a little of the weight lifting. “That’s-... a really good idea. Thank you.”

“Anytime, son,” the man said with a wink. “Now go find that frame. Bet you’ll find what you’re looking for on aisle five. Oh, and how about this pack of gingerbread cookies - I'm sure they'll go down a treat.” Santa- Nick handed him a packet, and Morgan laughed as he took it, giving him a gentle nod and a smile, before heading off. By the time he left the store, his cart held two simple but elegant frames, some festive wrapping paper, and ribbon. And of course the gingerbread cookies that the man had been handing samples out of.

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Later that evening, standing on Puck’s doorstep with the wrapped frames tucked under his arm, Morgan took a steadying breath. Both frames held pictures taken with each person. He'd tried his hardest to wrap them the neatest he could, but remembered the white-bearded man's wise words: “It's about remembering what matters most.” And to Morgan, the time they'd spent together meant the world to him.

The house was lit with a warm glow, the faint sound of laughter and music drifting through the door.

Hope.

MORGAN stood out in the pasture, his weathered jeans dusted at the knees, boots planted firmly in the grass. The late afternoon sun bathed the ranch in a golden glow, stretching long shadows across the rolling pastures. A light breeze carried the soft scent of hay and the distant sound of horses snorting contentedly as they grazed. It was the kind of quiet that settled deep in his bones, the kind that made him feel steady again after weeks of chaos and grieving. In one hand, he held a halved apple, extending it out carefully as the doe before him stepped closer. Her ears flicked warily, but her nose twitched with interest. Behind her, a speckled fawn poked its head out from her flank, watching the scene unfold with the same cautious curiosity. “Come on, girl,” Morgan said softly, his voice a low drawl as gentle as the breeze. “Ain’t nobody here gonna hurt ya.” The doe took another step, her dark eyes meeting his as if measuring the trust between them. With a delicate stretch of her neck, she plucked the apple from his hand, her teeth crunching quietly as she chewed. Morgan smiled, a dimple sinking into his cheek beneath the scruff of his beard. “That’s it. See? Nothin’ to it,” he murmured, as the fawn took a hesitant step closer. From his back pocket, he pulled another apple, already sliced, and crouched down to hold it out. The fawn looked up at its mother, seeking silent permission, before inching closer to take the offered fruit. It was in that quiet moment that the sound of tires crunching over gravel met Morgan’s ears. He looked up toward the drive, squinting against the sun, and his chest gave a familiar, achy squeeze when he saw Eva’s car rolling to a stop. He watched as she got out of the car, and motioned for her to be quiet and come towards him gently, hoping it wouldn’t startle the animals. “Here,” He told her, holding has hand out for her to take, so he could give her another apple half, so she could try feeding then curious fawn.

EVA had been grateful that her cast had just been reduced to a much more tolerable splint that she could adjust or remove when need be, making it much easier for her to do things for herself again, and things had mostly started to feel normal again. Her car had been repaired and restored to majority of its glory, she was back focused on work, and she was back in her own damn condo. There wasn't much more she could have asked for, but she was also back on civil speaking terms with Morgan and Puck and well...that scared her more than she'd wanted to admit (to anyone other than Bree, anyways). Agreeing to hang out with them individually, without anyone around to cockblock, was going to test the hell out of her sobriety, but as she pulled into the familiar driveway of Morgan's ranch, she knew there was no turning back now. Once she stopped and shut off the engine, she was half expecting him to motion for her to head towards the house so when she got out and saw he wasn't doing this, she sighed to herself. Of course the man would want her to stand out here and watch him be cute with animals! She had thought she was prepared for him to be his usual self today, but this was proving her wrong. But she just nodded and stepped over anyways, taking his hand as she peered at the deer. "You make a habit of befriending deer?" She asked softly. "I shouldn't be surprised, but I still am. Is this a common thing, or were these just fascinated by you being the animal whisperer and wanted to stop and chill with you for a minute?"

MORGAN's lips tugged into a soft smile as Eva took his hand, her fingers fitting against his as naturally as sunlight warming his skin. “Well, I can’t say it’s a regular habit,” he drawled, his voice rich with that warm, familiar cadence she could probably pick out of a crowd. “But every now and then, they wander by. I reckon they can tell when a place feels safe.” He glanced back at the doe and her fawn, who had relaxed enough to nibble at the grass nearby, their trust not entirely broken by Eva’s presence. “Animals got a way of knowin’ things about people. They don’t care what you say or how you dress - they just go off what they feel. Guess they figured I was worth takin’ a chance on.” His gaze flickered back to Eva, softening as he took her in. She looked good - better than good, even, now that she wasn’t weighed down by the cast or the bruises from before. The sight of her standing there, so close yet still feeling just out of reach, stirred something tender and a little raw in his chest. Morgan’s smile deepened as he gently squeezed her hand. “Now you, on the other hand, I wasn’t so sure you’d take me up on this invite. Thought maybe you’d change your mind and call Bree to bail you out.” His tone was teasing, but the faint hitch at the end betrayed something a little more vulnerable. “Glad you didn’t, though. Been lookin’ forward to this.” He hesitated, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “How you been? Really, I mean. Feels like forever since we’ve had a chance to just talk."

EVA nodded along as he spoke, deciding that she'd just listen to him talk about the animal thing for now. This was one of the reasons why she'd fallen for him in the first place, and as much as she hated it right now, she couldn't fight the way her heart swelled at this. If there was ever a time for her to drink, it would be right now. But since she couldn't, all she could do was just suck it up and admire the fact that he was hands down one of the most gentle men she'd ever met. "Every animal you meet feels that way about you, you know?" She questioned rhetorically, since she was sure that he knew that. Animals were almost as drawn to him as people were, which both annoyed her and intrigued her, but she was overlooking that as best as she could for now. When he shifted gears and turned the attention on her, she furrowed her brows a little bit when he mentioned Bree. "Wait, did she tell you what I said?" She was positive that Bree wouldn't have gone into the specifics of their conversation about him and Puck, but then again, those two were besties so maybe she had disclosed the intel as a precaution? She could understand it, sure, but it also gave her a reason to reconsider just how much she chose to share with Bree in case they were putting her in the middle of their bullshit. Letting Morgan speak up again, Eva sighed as she wrestled with how to answer his question. She used to be much better at concealing how she truly felt, yet lately, everyone in her life seemed to call her out whenever she tried lying so it seemed to be fruitless. "I'm a mess." She answered truthfully. "My wrist is better, and I'm back home and in class so that's a good start, but..I've been a wreck since everything went south with us and Puck. My parents are still making me go to AA too but to be fair, I don't think it's working like it should be since it wasn't my decision to go. But I still haven't had a drink since the wreck so..guess we're good?"

MORGAN listened quietly, his hand falling to his side as Eva's words sank in. She was still fighting her battles, and from the way her voice wavered, he could tell how much it was taking out of her. The urge to fix things - to smooth out the rough edges and take some of that weight off her shoulders - tugged at him, but he knew better. Eva wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted rescuing, not in this situation, and if there was one thing he’d learned the hard way, it was that she had to work through this at her own pace. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he said after a moment, his voice soft but steady. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but takin’ it one step at a time? That’s somethin’ to be proud of. You’ve got this, Eva. And if you ever need someone to just listen, well, you know where to find me.” He gave her a small smile, one that carried more hope than he dared speak aloud. “As for Bree,” he added, his tone lightening a bit, “you know she’s got your back. She’d never put you in a spot you couldn’t handle, no matter what she might’ve told me. And, for the record, she was just the first person I thought of, since she's the one who sees you the most, on a regular basis. With classes, her thesis, and brand management. Right?” He couldn't deny that there was some sort of curiosity floating around in his brain, wanting to know what they'd talked about; but he wasn't the type of guy to ask that, and so, he decided to put that thought to rest, and let it be. Morgan stepped closer, closing a bit of the space between them. There was that typical, automatic magnetic pull that Eva had about her, that he didn't even hesitate to give in to. Now that she was here - even if it was in a civil-kind of manner - he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to be closer to her. “But I’m glad you came. I missed this.” His gaze dropped to her hand for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I missed you.”

EVA had spent the past month being pushed — or forced, depending on how you looked at her entire family prying and her having to analyze her issues in AA — into opening up and being vulnerable, and she was both overwhelmed and pissed about it. Repeating how she felt about everything didn't feel like it was helping, even if her mom said otherwise, but without alcohol as her alternative to opening up, she didn't have any other options. Morgan trying to praise her and give her some sort of credit felt like it wasn't deserved, but maybe he did have a point? "Thank you." She muttered softly, deciding that was really all she could say in response to that for now. She did know that him and Puck were there for her if she needed to talk, but she also knew that even with her guard up again, she was pathetically weak for them and would just fold, which she was trying not to do now. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. And you're not entirely wrong because I was struggling with deciding to show up or not." She confessed. Maybe that was too honest, but she had learned her lesson about not being completely honest so it was for the best. Biting her lip as he stepped closer, Eva didn't have a clue how she still had her bearings, for the most part anyways. This was what she'd been afraid of. Spending time together was one thing, but when he got this close to her, close enough for them to inhale each other's scents and hear every breath the other took, she was far too weak to stand her ground. And of course Morgan would say some shit she knew, but did not need to hear in her current state, and she hated the way her heart skipped a beat at that. "Morgan.." She uttered his name almost as if she might break if she'd said it any louder than that. "I know, and I—" Miss you too. It was the truth, but as she met his gaze again, she couldn't bring herself to say it so she just nodded. "I know."

MORGAN had been standing on the edge of something fragile and electric. The way Eva had said his name - it was barely a whisper, but it struck deep enough to stop his breath for a beat. Her honesty, even when she struggled to say what he could already feel radiating between them, reminded him why he’d fallen so hard for her in the first place. The nod she gave him, subtle but weighted, was all the invitation he needed. Slowly, he leaned closer, his hand shifting slightly as if to steady himself - or her. The air between them grew still, heavy with unspoken truths and unrelenting longing. Just one kiss, that’s all he wanted. No, needed. He was so close, he could smell her perfume, could feel her breath, and just one inch closer, and his lips would be on hers. Then, the sound of laughter broke through the quiet, startling both him and the deer grazing a little ways off. “Y’all done being moony-eyed out here, or should we come back later?” Peyton's teasing voice carried as she strolled toward them, reins over her shoulder and a mischievous grin that could only come from someone who’d been waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt. Morgan sighed, the moment shattered but not entirely lost. He turned his head just in time to see Brodie following behind Peyton, her boots kicking up little puffs of dust as she led her chestnut mare toward them. The tall cowboy ran a hand through his hair and turned toward his sisters, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Y’all are the worst,” he drawled, but there was no real bite in his words. “But since you’re here, I might as well introduce you.” He glanced back at Eva, his gaze softening as he nodded toward the approaching pair. “Eva, these two troublemakers are my sisters, Brodie and Peyton. Peyton’s the one with the loud mouth-” The youngest sister cut in immediately. “Excuse me?” She said, feigning offense as she leaned her weight on one hip. “I prefer to think of it as being-… expressive.” Morgan rolled his eyes playfully and started to grin. “Loud,” He reiterated, before gesturing to Brodie. “And Brodie's my twin sister, and the one who thinks she’s quiet, but she’s just as nosy as Peyton.” Brodie gasped, though it was only for dramatic effect. “Not true,” She said, though her amused tone made it clear she wasn’t denying much. “It’s called observational, Morgan.” The older brother chuckled and shook his head before turning back to Eva. “And Eva,” he said, his voice softening again, “is-… well, she’s someone real special to me.” Peyton's grin widened as she gave Eva an exaggerated once-over, her arms crossing loosely over her chest. “So this is the Eva, huh? You’ve come up in conversation more than a couple times.” Brodie offered Eva a gentler smile, her tone warm and genuine. “It’s nice to meet you. Don’t mind Peyton. She thinks she’s funny.”

EVA saw and felt it coming before Morgan even started leaning in, and every ounce of her body just froze in response. She had kissed him and Puck on Thanksgiving so she couldn't exactly reject him doing the same thing now. And even if she wouldn't allow herself to fully admit it, something deep down inside of her wasn't against it. It would set her back 100 yards on whatever healing journey her parents had forced her on, but how bad could a simple kiss really be? Luckily they didn't have to find out as they were interrupted before their lips ever touched, and she had never been more grateful or flustered in her entire life. Turning to the source of the intrusion, she quickly plastered on a smile and tried to put that little moment behind them. After all, she'd just endured her own family taunting her so the last thing she needed to do was give Morgan's sisters more ammo to do the same right now. She nodded along as he introduced his sisters by name, and when he got to his twin, she furrowed her brows as she studied Brodie's features. "Uh..." She paused, her eyes trailing over Brodie's facial features again before she nudged Morgan's arm. "Is it just me, or does your twin look like she could throw on a blonde wig and literally be Hannah Montana?" Eva questioned, and sure, maybe it was just her being too worshipping of the fictional rockstar, but Brodie really did look like her. But she focused again as Morgan introduced her, and if she could feel the blush growing on her cheeks at the way he basically said a whole lot without saying much at all. When Peyton spoke up again, she accepted her playful jab before turning to Brodie. "It's nice to meet both of you, and no worries. My siblings are all like that too, so I'm used to it." She admitted with a smile. "But uh..since you two have the horses out anyways, maybe we should go for a ride too, Mr. Weston? It has been a while since our last lesson anyways, and Clover probably misses me."

MORGAN couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up at Eva’s comment about Brodie looking like Hannah Montana. He glanced at his twin, who had paused mid-stride to narrow her eyes and place a hand on her hip. “Okay, first of all,” Brodie began, mock-offended but clearly amused, “Hannah Montana wishes she had my bone structure.” Morgan smirked, shaking his head. “You know, she’s not wrong actually.” Brodie shot him a smug grin, then turned back to Eva. “But I’ll take it as a compliment. You’re sharp, I like you.” Peyton rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage her, Eva, or you’ll never hear the end of it.” Eva’s playful banter in response to his sisters made Morgan’s chest feel lighter, and for a moment, he let himself just enjoy the easiness of it all. When Eva suggested going for a ride, though, his grin widened, the idea sparking a warmth in him he hadn’t felt in a while. “Well, I reckon Clover has missed you,” he said, tilting his head toward the barn. “And I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t miss teachin’ ya. How about we saddle up?” Peyton raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna let her ride Clover? I thought she was your prized mare or somethin’.” Morgan smiled, the drawl turning warm, full of fond memories of their dates. “She is, but Eva knows how to handle her just fine.” He turned back to her, his voice softening a little. “We’ve got some new trails out back if you’re up for it. And these two can tag along, I guess.” He motioned to his two sisters, playfully rolling his eyes, before his grin softened again. He honestly preferred having alone-time with Eva, but that small hopeful part of him also figured that, if he got to spend more time with her - no matter what situation it was in - she would eventually come back around, and therefore eventually have to meet his family anyway. Besides, the hope only managed to grow inside of him, hearing Eva use the term for him, that she'd used, back when they were still good. “Unless you want to go alone, Ms. Anderson.”

EVA eyed Brodie's cheekbones at her comment before nodding. "Okay yes, you do have killer cheekbones — but show me a picture of you in high school and I bet you two were identical." She suggested, and she could already envision it. How the hell Morgan hadn't made the comparison before, she didn't know, but there was no way she could unsee it now. She was half tempted to ask her to sing one of Hannah's songs to see if she'd butcher it like her twin or miraculously sound exactly like the queen herself, but she decided against it...for now. "Thank you!" She responded to the compliment, which was pretty accurate. As much as her own siblings had been overwhelming her lately, it was nice to meet and be around Morgan's sisters now, who were a lot more chill than her entire family would have been if they'd been around Morgan or Puck. When her idea for them to go for a ride seemed to be right up his alley, she smiled. If nothing else, them being on separate horses would have kept enough space between them, but it also would have been the perfect way for them to still spend time together, do something they enjoyed, and even still talk just without the temptation of leaning in close and almost kissing. She raised a brow when Peyton questioned her being able to ride Clover, but Morgan's response solidified her decision. "I can handle the new trails, I suppose." Maybe she should asked for more details first, but she was at least confident that he wouldn't let anything happen to her so she figured there was nothing to worry about. The decision of whether his sisters could tag along being in her hands made Eva still for a moment, but then she shrugged it off before starting to head for the barn. "You two don't have to wait for us if you don't want to." She decided as she glanced back over her shoulder at the sisters. "But let's go, cowboy. We can't keep Clover waiting forever." She teased.

MORGAN chuckled as he fell in step beside Eva, his hands sliding into his pockets as they made their way toward the barn. “You know,” he began, glancing over at her, “Brodie’s probably diggin’ through her old yearbooks as we speak, just to prove you right- or wrong. Either way, you might’ve just unleashed a monster.” From behind them, Brodie’s voice called out, “Damn right I am! I’ll find one before y’all are back.” Morgan shook his head, chuckling as he turned his attention back to Eva. “And now you see what I’ve been dealin’ with my whole life.” Reaching the barn, he opened the door and stepped aside, letting her go in. The scent of hay, leather, and horses immediately filled the air, grounding him in the familiarity of home. “Clover’s in her usual spot,” he said, nodding toward the stall at the far end. “She’s been itchin’ to get out on the trails again, so I’d say you’re about to make her day.” As they walked toward the stall, Morgan couldn’t help but admire how easily Eva seemed to fit into this world of his. The way she teased him, charmed his sisters, and now moved with confidence through the barn - it was all enough to make his chest ache in that way he hadn’t fully let himself feel in a long time. “She’s lookin’ good, huh?” Morgan asked as they reached Clover. He gave the mare a gentle pat on her neck, her ears flicking forward at the attention. “Still your favorite, I reckon?” He leaned against the stall door, watching as Clover nudged Eva’s arm, clearly remembering her. He busied himself saddling up his own horse, a sturdy gelding named Sequoia, while keeping half an ear on Brodie and Peyton’s chatter from outside. “You’re brave lettin’ them decide whether to tag along,” he teased lightly. “They might just show up with cameras, ready to document every second.” When both horses were ready, Morgan grabbed Clover’s reins and handed them to Eva. “Alright,” he said, his voice softening as he met her gaze. “The new trail isn't tricky at all, I promise.”

EVA only laughed as Brodie confirmed her twin's suggestion, and she was excited to see those photos now. "Having a twin seems kinda fun." She teased, though she couldn't imagine having one of her own. The half-things were enough as it was so an actual twin? Definitely not meant for her. Once he opened the barn door, she grinned as she headed right over to Clover's stall. "And to think that I was afraid to get close to a horse the first time I came out here." She teased as she wasted no time petting the horse. She still surprised herself with how much she actually enjoyed being around horses and going for rides now, but Morgan has sort of gotten her hooked and she had missed this, even if she'd been too pissed at him before to admit it. "In Clover's defense, she is the most calm, and the one who got me comfortable with all of this, so yeah. She just might be my favorite." She teased, petting the horse again before she glanced back towards the barn doors. "Hey, you left the decision up to me and I didn't want to seem rude if I told them they couldn't come. Or worse — they were already spying so even if I said they couldn't come, what makes you think they wouldn't have just tried being sneaky and following us anyways?" It's what all three of her siblings would have done, and even Jake and Bree would have done it too if they had been here, so she wouldn't have blamed Brodie and Peyton if she had tried getting rid of them. Pushing herself up and onto Clover, Eva made herself comfortable on the horse before taking the reigns from Morgan. "Oddly enough, I do at least you when it comes to this, so I'm fine. I'm not even nervous." She promised, and she truly wasn't. It was his ranch after all so she knew he wouldn't take her down some crazy trail, so she was more relaxed now than she'd been in a while. "So, why haven't you taken Clover out on the trails lately? Has she been too busy on movie sets, or were you just too busy with the other horses?"

MORGAN adjusted his hat as he swung into Sequoia’s saddle, the motion practiced but unhurried. Sequoia shifted slightly under him, but Morgan gave a gentle pat to the horse’s neck, calming him with a quiet touch. He glanced over at Eva, his smile soft and easy as she got comfortable on Clover. “She is somethin’ special, isn’t she?” he said, watching Clover nuzzle against Eva’s hand. “To be honest, she’s the one that makes me look good most days. I don’t know how she puts up with me neglectin’ her lately. Between the movie sets and the training, I’ve been so caught up in work I haven’t given her much attention.” His smile turned sheepish, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Feels like all I’ve been doin’ is runnin’ from one thing to the next.” As they started down the trail, Morgan kept Sequoia at an easy pace beside Clover, the rhythm of the ride calming the usual busyness in his head. The breeze carried the scent of sun-warmed grass, and he breathed it in, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter, “I’m grateful for the work. It’s more than I ever thought I’d have, doin’ somethin’ I love. But I reckon I get a little too focused sometimes.” He glanced at Eva with a humble smile, his brown eyes meeting hers briefly. When they crested a hill, Morgan pulled Sequoia to a stop, his gaze sweeping over the ranch below. The light painted the pastures in warm gold, and for the first time in a while, he let himself really take it in. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to come back out here,” he admitted, his voice low and thoughtful. “After everything, I mean. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t. But seein’ you here again? It’s good. Real good.” His smile turned soft, almost shy, as he glanced back at her. “Reminds me of why I kept doin’ what I was doing, although I should've respected y'all's space.” Morgan admitted, offering Eva a sad smile. “I'm sorry 'bout that, y'know?”

EVA furrowed her brows as Morgan talked about being caught up in work again, and she probably shouldn't have been surprised by that. He had a lot going on, so of course he would have thrown himself into work again. She didn't entirely like it, yet she knew it was just how he handled things. "She adores you, so I'm sure she understands. But for Clover's sake, if you need someone to come over and love on her while you're working, I'll do it." Maybe she was a little too into the horseback riding thing, at least with Clover, but it wouldn't be such a bad thing to come over and keep her from feeling so neglected. "But as for you, running doesn't solve your problems, you know? It's a temporary fix, like a bandaid — or at least that's what they tell me in AA about drinking my problems away." It was a stupid way to look at it, in her opinion, but deep down she knew it was true. But unlike drinking, the ride down the trail was more soothing, the peace and serenity offering a more delicate kind of comfort that she'd needed lately. Eva assumed that it also gave Morgan the same kind of tranquil space to just pause and let everything sink in, which is why she assumed he was just freely rambling off how he felt. Stopping right beside him and Sequoia, she sighed as she just kept listening, not wanting to interrupt since he obviously needed to get all of this off his chest. But once he finished, she shrugged nonchalantly. "You had it all figured out before, you know? Balancing work with time for yourself...and others. I know there's been a lot going on lately, but you still need to make time to just breathe, or just give yourself a break." She knew that was easier said than done, but he still needed to hear it anyways. "And honestly, I didn't even know if I'd ever come back out here. I almost didn't. You can thank her for that." She teased as she softly ran her hand along Clover's neck before she glanced over at Morgan again. "I can't speak for Noah, but it was never really about the space for me. It was you love bombing us after you'd fucked us over." She admitted, giving a slight shake of her head before she looked his way again. "I didn't need a condo full of poppies, a table full of food, or you publicly declaring your love for me. What I needed was for you, and Noah, to have figured your shit out before you got me invested in something that neither of you were ready to commit to. I needed you to have worked out your feelings for her before you fed me all that shit about how you felt about us. You went and had sex with her immediately after that conversation and then days later, you were trying to convince me that all of this is love." Pausing, Eva was at least grateful that she'd cried enough over the past few weeks and couldn't bear herself to will another tear now even if she'd wanted to; however, the hurt and anger from Morgan's actions were clearly still lingering. "I don't trust either one of you, and I don't know if I ever will again, but I've missed you. I've missed the stupid Hannah marathons, the riding lessons, definitely the dinners — but I don't know how to just be friends with you or Noah after everything we've been through."

MORGAN kept his hands loose on the reins as he listened to Eva’s words. The sting of her honesty hit deep, but he didn’t flinch away from it. He deserved it - every word. He let out a soft sigh, his gaze dropping. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “I was selfish. I thought I could fix everything with grand gestures ‘cause I didn’t know what else to do. And I wasn’t ready. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all the ways I hurt you.” Morgan looked over at Eva then, his eyes filled with humility and a quiet ache. “I don’t blame you for not trustin’ me. I don’t know if there’s anythin’ I can say to change that, and honestly, I wouldn’t expect it to happen overnight anyway.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, the weight of his mistakes hanging between them. “I thought if I could show you and Noah how much I cared, it’d make up for all the times I let you down. But that’s not love, is it? Love isn’t about provin’ somethin’ after you’ve messed up. It’s about showin’ up before it ever gets to that point.” He sighed again, his shoulders slumping slightly. Morgan gave Sequoia a gentle nudge forward, and a click of his tongue, encouraging the horse to move forward again. After a few moments, he spoke again, his tone softer. He hesitated, his hand brushing the edge of his belt. “I don’t know how to fix what’s broken between us, Eva. I don’t even know if I can. I just know I don't want to be without you in my life. So if I have to keep waitin' then I will. Because I meant what I said in my text. I'm happy just being in love with ya.” Morgan’s gaze shifted back to her, a small, humble smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And you know you're always welcome to come out here to love on Clover while I’m workin’, I reckon she’d be just as grateful as I would. Selfishly, I enjoy havin' ya around too.” There was no pleading in his voice, no expectation. Just a quiet hope, fragile but sincere, as they continued their ride down the trail.

EVA might not admit it, but being subjected to AA and her family's unprovoked opinions had sort of helped, at least in getting her to just say whatever the hell she wanted to say to her dumb asses. She wasn't even aiming to hurt Morgan anymore, but they weren't going to get far if she didn't tell them the truth, so she was just going with it. Meeting his gaze as he spoke, she started processing what he was saying and was tempted to interrupt him, but she decided to just stay silent and let him get out what he needed to say. Once Morgan got Sequoia going again, she clicked her tongue just like he'd taught her to do and Clover was on the move as well, and her mind was racing as she tried to decide what else she needed to say to him. Or better yet, what else he needed to hear. "I've only seen one example of love in my life and truthfully, everything you and Noah did reminded me of that — of my parents. The only time they say or show that they love each other is after one of them, usually my mom, fucks up, so you going out of your way to prove you loved us after everything just kinda felt like that." Eva stated and sighed. "And deep down I know that you two aren't them, but with everything's that happened since we started whatever we were, I just can't guarantee that there is a way to fix this — at least not romantically." She ignored the way that saying that stung, since it was true whether any of them liked it or not. "I am trying to be okay with us still being in each other's lives and being...something close to friends, maybe? That's why I decided to come today, but it's just gonna take some time to get as close as we were before."

MORGAN kept Sequoia at an easy pace, his gaze shifting between Eva and the trail ahead as she spoke. He let the silence stretch out for a moment once she finished, letting her words settle like the crisp breeze brushing through the trees. Finally, he exhaled. “I get it,” he said softly, glancing over at her with a bittersweet smile. “And I can’t say I blame you for feelin’ that way. I never wanted to remind you of somethin’ hurtful, but I can see now how my actions came across. And I hate that - hate that I made you feel like what we had wasn’t real, or that it was somethin’ you couldn’t trust.” Morgan reached up to adjust his hat, buying himself a second to gather his thoughts. “I've admired you since the day we met, y'know? Not just with how much you've achieved, but with how brave you've been, going into it all. The way you’re able to just put it all out there, even when it hurts, that’s somethin’ I’ve admired about you since gettin' to know ya better. I guess I’m still workin’ on bein’ that honest with myself, let alone anyone else.” He gave a faint chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I want you to know that I respect where you’re at. I’ll take it, and I’ll be grateful for it.” Morgan glanced over at her again, his expression open and earnest. “I’m not expectin’ us to just go back to how things were. Hell, I’m not even sure we should. But whatever this ends up lookin’ like, I want it to be somethin’ real, somethin’ built on trust this time.” As they rode on, the quiet rhythm of the horses’ steps filled the space between them. “And for what it’s worth,” he added after a moment, his tone lighter but still sincere, “you’ve always been more than just a quick 'wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am'. You’re somethin’ special, Eva.” He didn’t press her for anything more, didn’t try to steer the conversation in any particular direction. He just rode beside her, content to let her set the pace - on the trail and in whatever came next for them.

EVA hadn't been baiting him for yet another apology, which he'd done more than his fair share of, but she still nodded in acceptance anyways. She was sure now that both Morgan and Puck were more than sorry for everything that had happened, and she was working to forgive them as much as she could which felt like...progress? It was better than where they were before, she supposed. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she felt her face growing flush at his compliment, and damn if she didn't need the ego stroke today. "Thank you, Mr. Weston." She stated softly. "But being honest with yourself is pretty fucking hard, so I get that." She was still doing that work herself so she couldn't blame him for still struggling with it too. But at least he was okay with taking things at her pace and letting her be somewhat in control as far as where things went with them, and she knew Puck was too so that was something. She gave him a small smile when he expressed wanting them to build something that was real and based on trust this time, and while it sounded good, she was still skeptical about it; however, she'd just keep that to herself. Loosening her hold on the reigns a little as Clover kept trotting along, Eva felt a slight flutter in the pit of her stomach at her next admission. "I don't really feel like I'm anything special, but that's good to hear." She'd never say that to anyone else, but it felt right to be honest about it with Morgan. They rode a little further before she brought Clover to a halt, and then she furrowed her brows as she glanced over at him. "So what's going on with you and Noah anyways? Are you two gonna work things out and..I don't know, actually commit to each other now?"

MORGAN let the reins rest loose in his hands as Sequoia kept an easy pace beside Clover. Eva’s question wasn’t unexpected, but it still gave him pause. He tipped his hat back a little, the weight of the conversation matching the slow, steady rhythm of the horses’ steps. “I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice soft but honest. “The whole thing with Noah’s layered, y'know? It's complicated. And I guess I am, too, in my own way. After everything that happened, I think we’re both a little scared of messin’ it all up again.” He glanced over at her, his eyes warm but filled with a quiet kind of sadness. “He was there for me when my granddad passed. Even after sendin' him the same kinda voice note I sent you, he showed up. Helped me through a lot of dark days when I didn’t think I could handle any more.” Morgan’s gaze dropped to the trail for a moment, his thumb idly brushing the leather of the reins. He hadn't meant to just forget to tell Eva, but there was something happening. And in all fairness, he might've gotten overstimulated anyway, with both of them knowing at the same time. “I’ll always be grateful for that. It reminded me of why I loved him in the first place - why I still do.” Sequoia flicked an ear back at him, and Morgan gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck. “But I don’t want to rush back into somethin’ just to end up right back where we were. I think we both need time to figure out what we want, what we can actually handle. If we’re gonna try again, it’s gotta be right. For him, for me, and for anyone else who ends up a part of it.” He met her gaze then, hinting directly at her. There was only her. “I’m learnin’ the hard way that love can’t fix everything. It takes work - honest, messy work. But I want to be sure, you know?” Morgan exhaled, the weight of his words leaving his chest lighter than he expected. “What about you, though? You think there’s a chance you and him could figure somethin’ out? Or is it just too far gone, like with me?”

EVA didn't know what answer she was expecting, but with the way she'd tried to fight coming to Noah's for Thanksgiving, and was already basically considering his offer for Christmas, she hadn't known if Morgan had been in the same boat with him that she was in. But as she listened to Morgan's response, she wasn't entirely surprised that as soon as he'd gotten the news about Grandpa Weston, Noah had been right there taking care of Morgan. It was just how he was so she wouldn't have expected anything less, and she could understand why that alone was enough to spark such a reminder. It also helped explain why the whole Thanksgiving set up had happened, and she was even more sure now that Noah's hope was bound to bring them all back together somehow, even if it wasn't how they all hoped it would. Eva squirmed under his gaze when he obviously hinted at her, and clearly Clover took note of it with the way her ears perked up, and Eva just ran a hand along her neck to signal that she was fine...mostly, anyways. Once her own question was turned on her, she shrugged. "I never said it was too far gone with you, you know? And Noah's not entirely off the hook either. I know his therapy and stuff is going well and he said he's doing better now, but I don't trust him either. Even if he didn't have feelings for anyone he slept with, he still hurt us too — as far as I'm concerned, you two are in the same boat." But Eva knew that wasn't exactly answering his question, which felt slightly harder to answer in her current mindset, yet she did sort of have an answer. "But as far as us figuring something out, just him and I? The answer's no. Or not..that came out wrong. If things were to go there again, I can't see myself doing this without both of you. I mean, if I had to, then maybe, but...I don't know, it would just be weird not being with both of you when I love—" Eva's entire body froze when that word slipped out, and she was sure that her face had gone pale now. It was almost like she could hear her entire family's nagging in her ear and with all of them repeatedly pointing out that she loved Morgan and Puck, maybe she had subconsciously accepted it already. Yet that was the first time she'd said it, and now she felt entirely too many emotions to unpack now. "You know, we should probably head back now. I'm sure Brodie found one of her old high school pictures by now, and I uh..we can turn both of your sisters into Hannah fans." Eva suggested, and she didn't even wait for a response before she was clicking her tongue and tugging on the reigns, and Clover started back down the trail again, though not fast enough for her liking.

MORGAN glanced over at Eva, his chest tightening at the way the sun caught the loose strands of her hair. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was something else - something raw and vulnerable about the way she carried herself in that moment. He knew he and Noah had hurt her, had failed her, and no matter how many times he said he was sorry, it would never be enough to erase the damage. But hearing her say that she didn’t trust either of them yet, that she put them in the same boat, felt like a dagger twisting in his gut. Still, Morgan respected her honesty more than anything else. It took guts to say what she was saying, and that alone made him love her even more. He kept his gaze on the trail ahead, the reins loose in his hands as Sequoia moved steadily forward. “I get that,” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm. “And I reckon you’re right to feel that way. Trust ain’t something we can rush, and I don’t expect you to give it back just ‘cause I want it. But-...” He hesitated, his voice trailing off as he fought the urge to say more, to beg her to believe in him again. This was so unlike him; he usually knew what to say, and Eva had him thinking things through a million times before. Instead, he glanced over at her, his expression open and earnest. “I hope someday I can earn it back - for real this time.” When Eva started to speak again, Morgan focused on her, his full attention drawn to every word. And then it came; the word that changed everything. Love. His breath caught as her voice faltered, and for a second, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. But the look on her face - the way her eyes widened in panic, her cheeks flushing - confirmed it. She tried to backtrack, stumbling over her words, but it was too late. The truth had slipped out, and it hit Morgan like a freight train. He didn’t say a word, didn’t dare interrupt her. But his heart was pounding, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t begin to sort through. She loves me. The realization was overwhelming, and he didn’t even try to hide the way his lips curved into the smallest of smiles. When Eva abruptly suggested heading back, Morgan nodded, his voice caught somewhere between his throat and his heart. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not yet. As they made their way back to the barn, Morgan’s thoughts raced. By the time they dismounted and led the horses inside, he knew he couldn’t let her leave without saying something; or showing her something. The moment her back was turned, Morgan acted. He crossed the stable floor in a few long strides, grabbing her waist and pulling her gently but firmly behind one of the half-walls, up against the nearest wooden post. His fingers curled around her hips, holding her in place as his chest pressed against hers. Before she could say anything, he leaned down and kissed her. This wasn’t the gentle, cautious kiss from Thanksgiving; it was raw, desperate, full of everything he hadn’t said and everything he couldn’t hold back anymore. It wasn’t a demand. It was a confession, a promise, a thousand unspoken words wrapped into one moment. His hand slid up to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin as he kissed her like it was the only thing that mattered. He didn’t pull back until the sound of his sisters’ voices echoed into the barn. He pulled away softly, because all he wanted, was to keep going, showing her how much she meant to him, but instead, he managed to place just one more gentle ending to it all, right on her lips, before forcing himself to step away, so his sisters didn't see anything. “Eva, who'd you say I looked like again?” The sound of Brodie's voice could be heard as they made their way over to them, and Peyton’s laughter broke through the barn, while Morgan turned his back to them and started busying himself with unsaddling Clover. But he couldn't help but let his twitch slightly upwards in a smile, still feeling hers on them.

EVA had practically lost the ability to even register anything else once she'd slipped up, so getting back to the barn was all that mattered. And as soon as they made it back, she climbed off of Clover and gave her a few more loving pats to make sure she felt the love, and to signal that she would at least be back soon, even if it was while Morgan was busy with the other horses so she didn't have to deal with the love thing any time soon. But of course Morgan Weston, the same man who was into grand gestures and getting names tattooed on him, wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. And in her attempt to avoid making eye contact with him, she had left herself unprepared for what happened next. It all happened in a bit of a blur, and even Eva hadn't been able to process anything until his lips were on hers. Fuck! This was exactly what she'd been afraid of, and after their close call earlier, she had been maintaining a safe distance from him to ensure that this wouldn't happen, yet here they were. And much like she'd expected, her resolve was far too weak, much like her body, and she didn't even miss a beat as she kissed him back. Her kisses at Thanksgiving hadn't been planned, yet she'd methodically limited them to chaste kisses, just enough to let them know that she had obviously still cared about them. But this wasn't that — this time, she didn't hold back, not even a little bit as she matched his intensity of the kiss. Her mind was spiraling at this point, and by the time Morgan finally broke away from the kiss as his sisters caught up with them, she was at a complete loss for how to form words again. Brodie's question went in one ear and right out the other as she pushed herself off of the wooden post, trying to pull herself back together so she didn't give away what had just happened, which was damn near impossible with how flushed her face was now. Readjusting her clothes, Eva eventually managed to swallow the lump in her throat before shaking her head. "I uh…I should go." She muttered, her tone much softer than it ever was as she turned to Brodie and Peyton. "It was nice meeting you both, and I'm sure I'll see you both again sometime." Or maybe she wouldn't and she'd never have to die of embarrassment like this again, but only time would tell. And with Morgan's back turned towards them, she could at least look his way now. "And um..take care, Mr. Weston. We'll talk…soon, I guess." That was all she could get out before turning on her heels and practically running right out of the barn, desperate to get into her car and head home so she could unpack what had happened with Pia.

The Weston family dinners were always spirited, but tonight, the tension simmered hotter than Anita’s roasted chicken. Morgan sat at the table, one boot hooked over the other, his relaxed posture a thin disguise for the frustration knotting his chest. He nursed a glass of sweet tea, trying to focus on anything other than the conversation circling like vultures over a carcass.

He was the oldest of the Weston kids, with a few minutes ahead of Brodie, but in many ways, he’d always felt like the odd one out. His dad, Cash, was the quintessential American-made man, a stunt actor proud of his work, and the kind of man who lived by his calloused hands and his word. His mom was softer, a dreamer who still made time for everyone even when it drained her. His twin sister, Brodie, had inherited Cash’s grit, while Peyton - the baby of the family - was fiercely independent, a whirlwind who spoke her mind without apology.

And then there was Morgan. The happy-go-lucky cowboy, the black sheep who traded small-town life for Hollywood chaos, wrangling horses on movie sets while his siblings pursued steadier lives.

Across the table, Brodie was mid-sentence, her voice carrying the confidence of someone who knew she was about to win an argument. “So, it’s settled. We’re all going back to Montana for Thanksgiving. Granny needs us this year, no question about it.” Morgan froze, the fork stilling in his hand. “Hold up. We’re going to Montana? I thought we were staying in L.A. this year.”

Peyton, their younger sister, shot him a look. “Plans change, cowboy. You’d know that if you checked in every once in a while.” Brodie jumped in, her tone sharper. “It’s not a hard decision, Morgan.” The cowboy leaned back in his chair, forcing a grin. “I do check in. You just don’t answer. Can’t blame me for your bad phone habits.”

Peyton snorted. “Nice deflection, but this isn’t about us. It’s about you. What’s the deal, Morgan? Got some big Hollywood Thanksgiving gala you can’t miss?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “No, just work,” Morgan said, trying to keep his tone light. “Horses don’t wrangle themselves, y'know. And they sure don’t take holidays off.”

“That’s convenient,” Peyton muttered. Morgan set his glass down harder than he meant to, his grin fading. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, wanting-  no, needing the truth to come out from his family now. “It means you always have an excuse,” Peyton shot back. “Work, L.A., whatever. You’re just avoiding Montana because it’s messy.”

“Messy?” Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You wanna talk about messy? Let’s talk about how y’all decided to change plans without even telling me.” He shot back at her, slightly pissed off that he wasn’t even filled in on it. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy chasing ghosts,” Peyton said, smirking, “you’d have noticed.” Morgan’s stomach sank, but his face stayed calm. “What ghosts?”

“Eva and Puck,” Peyton said, leaning forward. “You’re still hung up on them, aren’t you?” There it was; the news they’d probably been gossiping to each other, without Morgan knowing a damn thing about that. That was the disadvantage of Morgan having moved back to Montana when he was 17; his twin and younger sister had gotten tremendously closer, and he’d grown more apart from them. “Still?” Brodie cut in, her eyes narrowing. “Wait, weren’t you dating both of them? At the same time? How does that even work?”

“It’s called multitasking,” Morgan quipped, leaning back in his chair. “Something you wouldn’t know much about.” Peyton and Brodie groaned, but before they could retort, Anita’s gentle voice broke in. “Wait a minute. Who’s Eva and Puck?” She looked genuinely puzzled, glancing between her children. “Are they… friends of yours, Morgan?”

“Friends?” Peyton snickered, clearly relishing the drama. “More like his lovers. Both of them. At once.” Anita’s eyes widened, her fork pausing mid-air. “Oh, Morgan,” she said, half-shocked, half-curious. Across the table, Cash finally looked up from his plate, his rugged features hardening. “Is this true?” he asked, his voice low and gruff. “You were dating two people at the same time?” Morgan’s jaw tightened. He could feel the weight of his dad’s disapproval settling over the table. “Yeah, I was,” he said evenly. “I loved them both. Still do, actually.”

Cash set his glass down with a deliberate clink. “That doesn’t sound like love to me. Sounds like chaos.” Morgan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone was light but firm, his usual charm tempered by a rare steeliness. “Well, maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe I messed it up. But don’t sit there and act like I don’t know what love is. I know it better than most. Don’t forget, I lived with Granny and Grandpa, I saw what love should look like. And I felt it.”

Peyton raised an eyebrow. “So you’re still pining for them? Even after everything?” Morgan took a minute, hesitating slightly. It was such a long story, he wasns’t sure if he should get into it. “Call me sentimental, but when you love someone - or two someones - you don’t just stop. Not that you’d know, Pey, since you can barely commit to a Netflix series.” Brodie stifled a laugh as Peyton threw a crumpled napkin at him. “Real mature, cowboy.”

Across the table, Cash finally spoke, his voice low and firm. “That’s not love, son. That’s selfish.” Morgan’s head snapped toward his father, his usual easy charm slipping. “Selfish? You think loving people is selfish?” He asked, confused by that statement. “When you’re loving two people at the same time? Yeah,” Cash said, his tone like steel. “That’s not how it works, Morgan. You don’t string people along and call it love.”

“But I know how I feel, dad!” Morgan shot back, his voice rising. “I know that what I feel for them is real. And even if I can’t have them, I know that being in love with them is enough for me.” He tried to argue back, but his dad was quick with his next question. “Is it really enough?” Cash asked, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re sat here, whining about them bein’ gone.”

Morgan flinched, but the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. “Yeah, they’re gone. And you know what? That’s on me. I screwed it up. But don’t sit there and act like you’ve never made mistakes in love. I’d rather have trouble than regrets. Isn’t that what you always say, Dad?” Cash leaned forward, his voice dropping into a growl. “Don’t turn this on me. I didn’t raise you to treat people like that.”

Morgan stood suddenly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Treat people like what? Like they mattered to me? Like I’d do anything for them? Because that’s what I did. And I’d do it again, no matter how messy it got. Besides, you didn’t raise me at all – you were gone, you were too busy with your career! Well, guess what, I’ve been there and I’ve done that too, and it’s a damn sad life. Y’know who raised me? Grandpa! He taught me that the most important thing you can do in life is to love. And I have enough love to give to two people. What have you got? Nothin’ for your own damn son!”

“Enough!” Anita’s voice cut through the room, silencing everyone. She looked between her son and husband, her face pale. “This is not the time for this.” Morgan glanced at her, his chest heaving, but he didn’t sit back down. Instead, he turned to Brodie and Peyton. “You don’t get it. Any of you. It’s easy to stand on the sidelines and point fingers, but you weren’t there. You didn’t see how good it was, how much it meant. So don’t sit there and judge me.”

Peyton folded her arms, her smirk replaced by unease. “We’re not judging- ” Morgan quickly cut her off. “Yes, you are,” He snapped. “But that’s fine. Judge away. I’m done explaining myself.” He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, turning toward the door. “Tell Grandma I’ll call her. And tell her I’ll visit when I can. But don’t expect me to roll over and apologize for lovin’ people just because it doesn’t fit into your neat little boxes.”

“Morgan,” Anita said softly, but he shook his head. “I’m not runnin’,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “I’ve got work. Commitments. But more than that, I’ve got my own damn life to live.”

With that, he walked out, the screen door slamming behind him.

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Morgan stood outside, leaning against his truck as the cool evening air bit at his skin. He breathed deeply, staring up at the sky where the stars were barely visible through the haze of city lights. He'd needed a moment after all of that, before making a decision of whether to go back inside or to just leave. The door creaked open behind him, but he didn’t turn.

“Hey.” Peyton’s voice was softer now, hesitant. “Can we talk?” Morgan sighed, glancing at her as she stepped onto the porch. Brodie and Anita followed, the three of them looking uncharacteristically unsure. “Look, I get it,” Morgan said before they could start. “You think I’m a screw-up. That I don’t care enough about granny or family or whatever. But I do. More than you know.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Brodie said, holding up her hands. “Slow down. Nobody said you don’t care.” Peyton shifted awkwardly, her arms crossed. “Okay, maybe I was a little harsh.”

“A little?” Morgan quipped, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. A lot,” she admitted, kicking at the ground. “I guess I was just... frustrated. I mean, granny’s all alone, and I don’t know. It felt like you weren’t stepping up.” Morgan tilted his head, his voice steady but firm. “I am stepping up. Just not in the way you want me to. I’m doing the best I can, Pey. It might not look perfect, but it’s what I’ve got.”

Anita stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “We were wrong to come at you like that,” she said. “You’re an adult, Morgan. You’ve got your own life, and I know you love your family. We should’ve trusted that instead of piling on.” Morgan’s posture softened slightly, his shoulders dropping. “I get why you’re worried about granny. She’s grieving, and I hate not being there. But I can’t just drop everything overnight.”

Brodie stepped closer, her voice quieter. “We didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re not part of this family, Morgan. You’re as much a part of it as any of us.” Peyton sighed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Even if you’re the one who always manages to dodge the tough stuff.”

Morgan smirked, the tension in his chest loosening. “I don’t dodge. I just... strategically retreat.” Brodie snorted, rolling her eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Anita gave him a soft smile, her hand still on his arm. “We’ll talk to granny, let her know you’re thinking of her.” Morgan’s grin returned, more genuine this time. “Yeah, because I’m her favorite, and y’all know it.”

“Don’t push it,” Peyton muttered, though she couldn’t hide her grin. He hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, his voice lower. “I didn’t mean to blow up at y’all. I guess-... I’ve been carrying a lot lately, and I don’t always know what to do with it.”

Brodie nodded, her expression softening. “We get it. And we’re sorry, too. For real.” Morgan looked between his mom and sisters, his chest tightening in a way that felt bittersweet. “Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the four of them stood in the quiet night air, the tension from dinner dissolving like smoke. Peyton broke the silence with a grin. “So, are you gonna call granny first, or should we?”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll call her. She’ll want to hear it from me, anyway.” Brodie gave him a playful nudge. “And do something about that whole love triangle thing, it's depressing seein' you so down in the dumps when you could have it so good.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Morgan said, dismissing his twin. His eyes turned to his mom, and he gave her a small, hesitant smile. “He knows that I love him, right?” He asked, referring to his dad who was now all alone inside. “That I'm just upset because he's doubtin' my abilities to love-” Anita held a hand up, shaking her head. “I'll talk to him,” She said, calmly. “He'll get good again.”

Morgan nodded, before noticing the freezing cold air. “Get back inside, y'all, it's too cold out here,” He said, pulling Brodie into a one-armed hug before snagging Peyton into it too. Anita watched, smiling softly before Morgan reached out to pull her in as well. “I'll talk to you all later.” His mom embraced him, a hand moving to rub his back. “You’re a good man, Morgan,” she whispered. “Don’t let anyone - yourself included - make you forget that.” Morgan nodded, the lump in his throat too big for words, as he let the women of his family move back inside.

Morgan sat alone on his front porch, the scent of hay and leather filling the cool California evening. The ride back from Montana felt like it had lasted a lifetime. His granddad’s last moments, so achingly peaceful, had left Morgan reeling. He’d had his breakdown in the barn, where his grandmother had comforted him, but the drive home, he could only hear one thing that she’d told him, before his granddad had passed away. ’Sometimes lettin’ go is the kindest thing you can do for someone else.’ Now, his heart felt raw, stripped bare by grief and regret.

In his hand, his phone weighed heavy, like a truth he hadn’t yet dared to tell. This place, his ranch, had always been a haven, a place of peace. But now it felt lonely, a quiet space where every shadow seemed to whisper of memories - of times he’d shared with Eva and Puck, of the laughter, of the silent moments, of his mistakes. He knew he had to let them go. Not because he wanted to, but because he finally understood it was the right thing to do. And he wanted to do it right, for once.

Morgan took a shaky breath as he started the first recording. His voice, raw and unsteady, broke through the quiet.

“Noah… hey. It’s Morgan.” He stopped, struggling to find the words. “I don’t-… I don’t even know where to start, except that I’m so, so sorry. I let you down in ways I can’t take back. I kept tellin’ myself that I was protectin’ you, but the truth is, I was protectin’ myself - from my own damn cowardice. I kept holdin’ onto you, makin’ you believe I was ready to give you my whole heart when I was still just… tryin’ to figure out what kinda man I should be. And you deserved more than what I was givin’ you.”

His throat tightened, but he pushed forward. “I’ve just returned from Montana after a week of havin’ been there, and-err… I got your letter, man, it arrived. I don’t know what’s in it, but I’ll read it tonight. But I, um…well, I lost my granddad, but, err-…it was also a good opportunity to speak to my grandmother, who put things into perspective for me.” Clenching his jaw, he knew he had to continue, so he kept pressing down on the record button.

“Noah, you brought so much light into my life. And I was too blind and stubborn to see it the way I should’ve. You deserved honesty, and instead, I hurt you by not tellin’ you how lost I was, by things I thought had and hadn’t been said, and then, God, I went and made it worse. It kills me to know that I caused you that pain. I’m so sorry. If I could take back even a fraction of the hurt I caused, I would. You mean-…“ His voice was shaking on the other end, his eyes stinging, but he swallowed and pushed through. "You meant everything to me. You made me feel whole for the first time in my life. But I’m learnin’ that love isn’t about holdin’ on when you know you’re not what they need. I get it now. When you love someone you have to let them go. So, I’m lettin’ you go, Noah. I hope you find the happiness I couldn’t give you. You deserve more than what I can ever give you. But I’ll always, always love you for the amazingly kind and sympathetic man you are, I know that much, deep in my heart. Your smile, your warmth, your ability to be calm in stressful situations- I love everything about you. And that’s on me, for not cherishing that. You will find someone who will. Goodbye, Noah.”

The recording ended, but the ache stayed sharp and relentless in his chest as he stared down at the phone. He knew there was one more message he needed to send. One more person he had to be honest with.

Morgan opened a new recording, his voice even shakier this time.

“Eva, hey. It’s me. This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but-… I can’t keep this all in anymore. I owe you the truth, after every damn lie I told myself, and every time I held onto you without sayin’ what I really felt.”

He drew in a deep, trembling breath, feeling the weight of each word.

“I thought maybe if I just held on tight enough, things would magically make sense. That I’d wake up one day and know exactly what I wanted, that you’d still be there, that you’d forgive me for makin’ you wait. But that ain’t fair, is it? You deserved to know how much you meant to me, how much I-… how much I love you, Eva. Instead, I tried to show you through big gestures, and screaming it from the top of my lungs, but it didn’t do anythin’ else, other than prove how big of an idiot I am, for not treasuring you when I did have you.”

A quiet tear slipped down his cheek, and he let it fall.

“I should’ve told you how I felt, between you and I. You’re not the type of person who likes these things, you’re private and so am I. And I should’ve been brave enough to do that, just the two of us. Instead, I also went and acted like a damn fool, and played with your heart. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I just held on while you waited, makin’ you feel small, makin’ you feel like a backup. I went and did what I did. It was about me, tryin’ to figure out what I wanted, but the truth is, I knew what I wanted the moment I met you at that mixer event. I wanted you. But I was confused and my communication should’ve been clearer, and I’m so, so sorry. I know it’s too little, too late, but I need you to know I would take it all back if I could. I’d never make you feel that kind of hurt again.”

He paused, his voice barely a whisper as he continued.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve just been to Montana for a week. My grandma gave me some good advice. And I realized that you deserve someone who loves you as much as I do, but who doesn’t break your heart, at all. So I’m lettin’ you go now, Eva. I know that I ain’t the only person who sees you for the amazin’, infuriating, wonderful woman you are, and if I could back in time, and show you it from the moment I met you, I would. But I can’t. I can only show you how much I truly love you, by lettin’ you go. I love you more than I know how to say, but you’ll find someone who will.”

He exhaled slowly, letting go of everything he’d kept inside.

“Goodbye, Eva.”

The funeral had been a quiet affair - just family and a few old friends. His granddad’s passing had left an emptiness in the house, a void that seemed to echo in every corner, in every creak of the floorboards and the stillness of the Montana air. After everyone left, the weight of the loss started to sink in, pressing on Morgan’s chest like a heavy saddle he couldn’t shake off.

Morgan found himself sitting on the back porch alone, staring out at the fields his granddad had worked for years. It was nearing dusk, the sky turning a shade of purple that bled into the horizon, and he could almost imagine his granddad out there, walking the fence line, checking the horses, making sure everything was just right. But now, the fields looked empty, like something vital was missing.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes burning as he tried to hold back the storm that was building inside him. Evelyn had gone to bed hours ago, her grief quieter, more contained, like the sadness of someone who had spent a lifetime preparing for this kind of goodbye. But Morgan wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the man who’d taught him everything worth knowing, who’d been a constant in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control.

He took a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the porch railing until his knuckles turned white. He thought about Eva and Puck - how he’d lost them too. He thought about his career, which seemed so promising from the outside, but lately felt like it was slipping away, one opportunity at a time. He thought about the ranch in LA, the empty house that was supposed to be a home. And then he thought about his granddad’s final moments, the words he wished he could’ve said, the time he wished he could’ve had.

It all felt like too much, the pressure building in his chest until it was hard to breathe. He stood up abruptly, feeling like he needed to move, to do something - anything - to outrun the feeling threatening to consume him. He stalked off the porch, his boots crunching on the gravel, heading to the barn where the old tools hung on the walls and the smell of hay and horses felt like the only steady thing in his life.

But the barn wasn’t the sanctuary he hoped it would be. As soon as he stepped inside, the memories hit him like a fist to the gut. He saw his granddad’s old workbench, the place where they’d spent hours fixing saddles and mending fences. He saw the half-finished projects, the worn work jacket that he’d clutched the other day now resting on the counter, and it felt like the ghost of his granddad was lingering in every shadow.

Morgan reached for the jacket, bringing it up to his nose. His granddad’s warm scent still lingered and went straight to his brain, flooding it with memories of a happy childhood and upbringing that he could only thank his granddad for. But his hands were trembling too much to hold onto the jacket. He slammed it back down on the bench, his chest heaving as the tears he’d been holding back finally broke free. He stumbled backwards, knocking over a crate of tools that clattered to the ground, the noise echoing in the empty barn.

“Dammit!” he yelled, his voice cracking as he sank to the ground, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. He buried his face in his hands, feeling like the world was collapsing around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He let the tears come, heavy and relentless, all the grief and frustration pouring out of him in ragged sobs. He wasn’t just mourning his granddad - he was mourning everything he’d lost, everything he couldn’t fix. Eva and Puck, the ranch, his career, the mistakes he couldn’t undo. It all felt like too much to carry, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have the strength to keep pretending he was okay.

He cried until he couldn’t anymore, until he was just sitting there in the dark, feeling empty and exhausted. The barn was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of hay and the distant chirping of crickets outside. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of his own failures, his own losses, and he didn’t know how to dig himself out.

For a long time, he just sat there, staring at nothing, feeling numb. He couldn’t bring himself to move, to stand up and face the reality of everything that had gone wrong. All he could do was sit there in the dark, wishing he could turn back time, fix what was broken, and find his way back to the man he used to be.

But there was no going back. There was only the silence of the barn, the emptiness in his chest, and the heavy ache of grief that felt like it might never fade.

He didn’t know how long he sat there before he heard the quiet creak of the barn door opening. He didn’t look up - he didn’t have the energy to face anyone, not even his grandmother. But then he heard Evelyn’s soft footsteps, and she was there beside him, lowering herself onto the ground with a grace that seemed impossible for someone her age.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just sat with him in the dark, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering a silent comfort that felt more real than words ever could. And for the first time in a long time, Morgan let himself lean into her touch, feeling the warmth of her presence, the quiet strength that had always held him up.

“I miss him too, bubba,” she finally whispered, her voice steady despite the tears he knew she must have shed. “But you’re not alone in this.”

Morgan let out a shuddering breath, the words hitting him like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his grief settle in his chest, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it would crush him. It still hurt, and it would keep hurting, but maybe - just maybe - he didn’t have to carry it all by himself.

Morgan sat at the kitchen table, staring at the half-empty cup of coffee in front of him. The house was quiet except for the occasional groan of the old pipes and the distant clucking of the hens outside. His grandmother, Evelyn, moved gracefully around the kitchen, making biscuits from scratch like she had every morning for decades. The rhythm of her movements, the sound of flour sifting, and the scent of butter sizzling in the cast-iron skillet made everything feel achingly familiar.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder at him as she worked. “You’ve got that look on your face,” she said lightly, not unkindly. “The same one you used to wear when you got into trouble as a boy and didn’t know how to confess.”

Morgan huffed a quiet laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I did,” he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his mug.

She didn’t press him right away. Instead, she slid a plate of fresh biscuits in front of him, patting his shoulder as she took the seat across from him. Her hands rested on the table, fingers laced, and she gave him that patient, all-seeing look that only grandmothers seemed to master.

“You haven’t talked to me in a long time, bubba,” Evelyn started, her voice gentle but with an edge of concern. However, there was no judgment to be found in her tone. “You’ve not been doing well.”

Morgan shifted uncomfortably, running a thumb over the rim of his cup. He didn’t know how to explain it all - how he’d felt like a man trying to patch up a sinking ship with band-aids. “I’ve been chasing after people, tryin’ to prove my love to ‘em. I sent them flowers, and made them their favorite meals, and everythin’,” he admitted, feeling a heaviness press against his chest.

Evelyn sighed softly, her eyes studying him like she was searching for something deeper than words. “Morgan,” she began, her voice steady, “you’ve always been good at trying to make things right. You get that from your granddad, always thinkin’ that if you just worked hard enough, you could fix whatever was broken.”

He swallowed, feeling the truth of her words cut deeper than he expected. It was true - he’d always tried to do just that. Whether it was his career or his relationships, he worked himself to the bone to set things straight.

“But sometimes,” Evelyn continued, leaning forward slightly, “all that work isn’t fixin’ anything. It’s just keepin’ you busy so you don’t have to face what’s really wrong.”

Morgan opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. She wasn’t finished anyway.

“I don’t doubt your heart’s in the right place,” she said softly. “But you need to understand that love isn’t about grand gestures or trying to prove somethin’. What you’ve been doin’- all those flowers and whatnot, bubba, they’re not gonna erase the pain you caused.”

The words stung, but he knew she was right. He lowered his head, staring at the grooves in the wooden table, trying to ignore the way his chest ached.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” he whispered, his voice sounding small and lost.

Evelyn reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “I know you didn’t, sweetheart,” she replied. “But intentions don’t always keep people from getting hurt. You were tryin’ to hang on to somethin’ that was already slippin’ away.”

Morgan’s throat tightened, and he clenched his jaw to keep the emotion from spilling out. “What was I supposed to do then?” he asked, his voice thick with frustration. “Just let them go?”

Her fingers squeezed his hand gently, and she gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Sometimes lettin’ go is the kindest thing you can do for someone else, and for yourself. You’ve been chasin’ after them like if you run hard enough, you can outrun what happened. But Morgan, you can’t.”

It finally clicked for him in that moment - the weight of her words sinking into his bones. He’d been chasing something that wasn’t there anymore, trying to fix what was shattered, not realizing that in his desperation, he was only making the cracks deeper.

Morgan took a shaky breath, feeling like the ground had shifted beneath his feet. It wasn’t just about the flowers or the meals; it was about him refusing to accept that some things couldn’t be fixed. And in trying so hard, he hadn’t just hurt Eva and Puck - he’d hurt himself too.

“What do I do now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid of the answer.

Evelyn’s expression softened, and she reached up to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead like she used to do when he was a kid. “You start by forgivin’ yourself, Morgan. And you give them time and space to heal too. And maybe, you find a way to heal on your own.”

Morgan nodded slowly, feeling a strange mixture of relief and sadness wash over him. He didn’t know if he was ready to let go completely, but he understood now that he couldn’t keep running himself ragged, trying to piece back together a story that had already ended.

Evelyn squeezed his hand one last time before getting up to tend to the stove, her movements graceful and sure. “Life has a way of teachin’ us lessons,” she said, her back turned to him. “It’s up to us whether we’re willing to listen.”

She turned off the stove, and moved to the coffee pot, grabbing it and went to pour more coffee into Morgan’s cup - the dark rings under his eyes could tell anyone that he needed it. “I’m gonna go and check on your granddad.”

Morgan sat there for a long time after she left, staring at his coffee, thinking about what she’d said. For the first time in weeks, he felt something loosen in his chest - a small sense of acceptance. It wasn’t the happy ending he’d hoped for, but it felt like the beginning of something else.

Morgan’s boots crunched softly on the gravel drive of his grandparents’ farm, a place that felt frozen in time. The fields stretched wide, painted with golden autumn light, and the cool Montana air wrapped around him like an old memory. He took a deep breath, smelling the familiar blend of hay and earth, as the front porch creaked under his weight. This place always felt like it was waiting for him to come home, a quiet sentinel to his restless heart.

His granny, Evelyn, stood at the door, her blue cardigan draped loosely over thin shoulders. She smiled, but her eyes were clouded with the weight of everything left unsaid. She reached out, her fingers curling around his arm as if testing to make sure he was really there.

“Granny,” Morgan whispered, his voice cracking despite himself.

“Hey, bubba,” Evelyn replied softly, pulling him into a tight embrace. She smelled like flour and roses - like every Sunday morning from his childhood when she’d bake while humming old Loretta Lynn songs. For a moment, Morgan just let himself be a kid again, safe and small in his grandmother’s arms.

Evelyn pulled back to look at him. “You look tired,” she said, her voice gentle but knowing.

Morgan tried to offer her one of his easy smiles, but it felt heavy and hollow. “Long drive,” he answered, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

She just nodded and held onto his hand as she led him inside. The house was the same - lace curtains, framed photographs of grandchildren, the quilt Evelyn made by hand covering the back of the couch. He could almost pretend things hadn’t changed if it wasn’t for the silence in the room, like everyone was holding their breath.

“He’s in the bedroom,” Evelyn said, her voice wavering. “He’s awake, but… he’s not really all there.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened, a futile attempt to stop the tremor in his chest. He nodded, squeezing her hand once before letting go. She stayed behind, giving him space to gather himself before he stepped into the room.

When he entered the bedroom, it felt like all the noise in his head went still. His granddad, Joe, lay on the bed, propped up on pillows. His once-powerful frame looked smaller, deflated, like a balloon that had slowly lost its air. The steady rise and fall of his chest was reassuring, but his eyes were dull and unfocused, fixed on something far beyond the four walls.

Morgan swallowed, feeling a knot of sorrow tighten in his throat. He took off his hat, smoothing down his hair as he approached the bed. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say on the drive over, but now, words felt like a foreign language.

“Hey, granddad,” he whispered, grabbing the old wooden chair from the corner. His granddad’s old work jacket hung over it, and Morgan grabbed it before sitting down on the old wooden chair beside the bed. The last time he’d sat in that chair, his granddad had been telling him stories about bronc riding and the old days. Now, the silence felt like a heavy, invisible thing pressing down on both of them.

Joe didn’t respond, his eyes still focused somewhere Morgan couldn’t reach. Morgan put the jacket in his lap and reached out, his rough hand covering the weathered, fragile hand of the man who taught him how to rope a calf and shoot straight. He remembered those hands being strong enough to split logs and gentle enough to cradle baby chicks.

“Granddad,” Morgan tried again, his voice hoarse. “It’s me. It’s Morgan.”

For a long moment, there was no recognition, just the quiet ticking of the old clock in the corner. But then Joe’s hand twitched slightly under his own, a small movement that felt like a lifeline. Morgan clung to it, swallowing back tears.

“They tell me you’re givin’ the nurses a hard time,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, like it used to be. “Still raisin’ hell even to hospital staff, huh?”

He wasn’t sure if his granddad could hear him or if any of it made sense, but he kept talking, telling Joe about the ranch, about the new horse that was a handful, and the California weather that was nowhere near the kind in Montana. He rambled about anything and everything, hoping that somewhere in his words, Joe might find his way back, if only for a moment.

But deep down, Morgan knew. The doctor had said there wasn’t much time left, and the man lying in front of him was already more memory than flesh. Still, he stayed, because his granddad deserved more than the quiet resignation that had settled over the house.

Morgan finally went quiet, staring at the old wedding photo on the nightstand - a young Joe and Evelyn grinning at the camera, their whole lives ahead of them. He blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over and gripped Joe’s hand tighter.

“I- I’ve been messin’ up a lot lately,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Love’s a hell of a thing, and I can’t seem to get it right.”

The words felt raw and painful in the quiet room, the confession echoing like a secret he’d been holding too close to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering Eva’s eyes, Puck’s smile - memories that now felt too heavy to bear alone.

“But bein’ here-… it kinda reminds me what’s important,” he continued, his voice steadying. “I just wanted to be home… with you.”

Morgan stayed with his granddad for what felt like hours, holding onto the worn jacket in his lap and the silence, hoping it might somehow heal what had been broken - both in himself and the man lying in the bed.

As the sun began to set, the shadows in the room lengthened, and Evelyn peeked in through the door, her eyes soft and sad. She didn’t say anything, just smiled at the sight of Morgan sitting beside his granddad, their hands still intertwined.

Morgan was busy fixing a broken gate on the ranch when his phone rang, vibrating insistently in the pocket of his worn jeans. The sun was already setting, casting long shadows over the fields, and he was in the middle of tightening a stubborn bolt. He pulled out his phone, not recognizing the number at first, but the area code was Montana. He wiped his brow and answered, half-focused on the gate in front of him.

“Hello?”

There was a moment of silence, followed by a familiar voice that sent a chill down his spine.

“Morgan?” It was his mother, Anita. Her voice was tight, holding back something. He could always tell when she was trying not to break, even over the phone.

“Ma?” Morgan dropped the wrench he was holding, turning his full attention to the call. “What’s goin’ on?”

Anita hesitated for a second, and that hesitation felt like a lifetime. Morgan could hear her breathing, slow and deliberate, like she was trying to find the right words. He felt his heart start to pound in his chest, an instinctual dread curling up inside him.

“It’s your granddad,” she finally said, her voice cracking just enough to let a hint of fear slip through. “He- he had a heart attack.”

Morgan’s mind went blank, and it felt like the world around him stopped moving. He leaned against the gate to steady himself, his legs suddenly weak. He could hear the horses rustling in the distance, the gentle clinking of metal from their tack, but it all seemed muffled - like he was underwater.

“Is…is he okay?” Morgan asked, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t know what answer he was hoping for - only that he needed her to keep talking, to fill the silence with anything other than what he feared most.

“He’s alive,” Anita said quickly, and Morgan could almost feel her trying to reach through the phone to comfort him. “But it’s bad, Morgan. The doctors said it’s not looking good. He-… he’s not responsive.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he doubled over, his free hand gripping the gate so hard his knuckles turned white. His granddad - his rock, his mentor - was always the strong one. The idea of him lying in a hospital bed, helpless and unresponsive, felt impossible.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Are you at the hospital?”

“Yes, I’m here with your dad and grandmother,” Anita replied, and Morgan could hear the exhaustion in her voice, the weight of carrying this alone until she called him. His parents must’ve gone back to Montana to make sure what the state of his granddad was like, before calling the kids. 

“You need to come home, Morgan. As soon as you can.” Morgan closed his eyes, trying to hold himself together, but the world felt like it was crumbling around him. “I’ll be there,” he managed to say, his voice rough. “I’ll be there soon.”

There was a pause, and he could hear Anita taking a shaky breath on the other end of the line. “We’re at Saint Joseph’s right, but I’ll call you if he comes home, okay? Be safe.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears.

After he hung up, Morgan stood there for a moment, staring down at the phone in his hand, trying to process what he’d just heard. He felt numb, like everything around him had lost its color, its life. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself, but all he could think about was his granddad - lying in that hospital bed, alone.

The thought snapped him out of his daze. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep standing still, doing nothing. He had to go, had to be there, had to do something. Morgan shoved his phone back into his pocket and rushed toward the barn, his boots pounding against the gravel, his mind racing ahead of him.

As he saddled up his horse to ride back to the house, he could feel the panic starting to bubble up, his hands shaking as he tightened the girth strap. He needed to pack, book a flight, talk to his co-workers that he was leaving, needed to make a plan for the horses, all the commitments he had, business meetings - but all he could think about was getting to Montana, seeing his granddad, and somehow fixing this - even if he knew in the back of his mind that this wasn’t something he could fix.

The ranch felt empty as he rode toward the house, the long shadows stretching across the dusty yard. For the first time in his life, Morgan didn’t feel at home here - he felt like he was miles away from where he needed to be.

When he reached the house, he didn’t waste a second. He threw his tack in the barn, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He pushed open the front door, rushing to his room to grab a bag, his hands moving on autopilot. He grabbed clothes, his toothbrush, his worn leather hat, and a few essentials. He felt like he was in a daze, moving through the motions but not really thinking, not really feeling.

As he zipped up his bag, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He looked wild, his eyes wide with worry, his hair disheveled, and his breathing unsteady. He stared at himself for a moment, trying to recognize the man looking back at him. He felt like a stranger in his own skin.

All he could hear was his mother’s voice, and the words she hadn’t said out loud - the fear, the uncertainty, the unspoken possibility that his granddad might not be there when he arrived. Sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, he felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. He wanted to cry, to yell, to break something - but he didn’t have time for any of that. He had to keep moving.

He grabbed his bag and rushed out the door, not bothering to lock up behind him. He felt like he was leaving more than just the ranch behind - he was leaving a piece of himself, the part that believed everything would always be okay in the end.