By the time we returned to the ranch, the sky was already dissolving into that deep shade of blue that exists only in the countryside — a color that seems thicker, almost touchable, as if night arrives there with more intention than anywhere else. The headlights cut through the dusty road while my thoughts moved in restless circles, never quite landing, never allowing me the relief of stillness.
I kept one hand over my belly the entire drive.
Not out of habit.
Out of instinct.
Marco drove with both hands firmly on the wheel, his posture too controlled, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Anyone else might have thought he was calm, but I knew him well enough to read the tension in the subtle tightening of his jaw, the silence that had stopped being comfortable miles ago.
The ranch appeared
