She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her down. When she was standing next to him, he slid his arm behind her and drew her into the crook of his body so they stood side by side gazing at the ranch together.

A red-tailed hawk soared above the open grassland with its wingtips spread and separated like fingers, the sun glinting off its rusty tail feathers. In the distance, a herd of pronghorns grazed along the foothills, seemingly without a care in the world.

She breathed in deeply of the glorious view and prayed she’d be able to come back and stand by Wyatt’s side in this exact spot for many years to come.

“This is ours, Greta. Yours. Mine. Ours.”

She nodded.

“Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

His arm tightened around her. “And you won’t forget about me?”

“Of course I won’t.” Somehow this already felt like good-bye, and she didn’t like it. She sensed tomorrow morning would be worse. Especially for Astrid.

Greta focused on the cabin. The wisp of smoke rising from the stovepipe and the light glowing from the window told her that Astrid and Judd were probably having supper, or at least that Judd was cooking something.

Was she really doing the right thing by taking Astrid to Denver? The little girl’s impassioned plea came back to her: “Please, Greta, let me die here where I’m happy.”

Greta couldn’t deny that Astrid was happy here, happier than she’d been in a long time, in a way she wouldn’t be in Denver. Would it be better for Astrid to stay? Even if she never got well?

No, they couldn’t give up now. Not after all they’d already been through.

“When you’re in Denver, I want you to think of this picture.” Wyatt nodded ahead to the grandeur. “And remember all you’re missing.”

She lifted her hand to his chest and spread her fingers, relishing the solidness. “I won’t have any trouble remembering all that I’m missing.”

“You sure?”

“The trouble will be thinking about anything else.”

“Good. Here’s one more thing to make sure you don’t forget what you’re leaving behind.” With that, he shifted her, then touched his lips to hers. The pressure was sweet and light, and his mouth clung to hers for an extra heartbeat, as though he couldn’t quite let go.

When he started to pull back from their kiss, a swell of need rose within her, and she chased after his lips, pressing into him, wanting more.

He paused for only an instant before he fused his mouth to hers again, the gentleness gone and in its place a desperation that told her so much more than his words had—that he needed her and didn’t want to let her go.