You’d been planning to leave Wabang in pieces—one box at a time, one goodbye at a time. But the morning it all came to a head, you wanted it clean. No lingering. No almosts.

The truck was already packed when Rhett showed up, dust on his boots and something uncertain in his eyes. You didn’t ask why he came. You figured he didn’t know either.

“I found this in the barn,” he said, holding it like it might change your mind.

The photo was taken one summer—someone dared you to ride the bull. You fell off in two seconds flat, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. Rhett caught you, dirt on his cheek and sun in his eyes. Someone snapped it without you noticing. When you saw it later, something in your chest ached like a warning.

You looked down at the photo. “We were just kids pretending that kind of joy could last.”

“I can be better,” he said quickly. “I want to try—if you’ll stay.”

Your jaw tightened. “Wanting to try was free the whole damn time, Rhett.”

He stepped closer, words catching in his throat. “Don’t go.”