Lahat ng Kabanata ng Resisting The Alpha Cowboy: Kabanata 161 - Kabanata 170

★。＼｜／。★VANESSA DAVIS★。／｜＼。★Packing my stuff wasn’t fun. It never is when it means leaving something—or someone—behind. Every time I folded a shirt, zipped up a pouch, or shoved toiletries into their designated corners of my bag, I felt like I was wrapping up a chapter of something that hadn’t even fully started yet. The weight of my departure felt heavier than it should for a trip that wasn’t permanent… or at least, wasn’t supposed to be. But it felt like it could be.Colton stayed in the kitchen. He claimed he needed to clean up—he said it casually, like he meant wiping down a few counters and rinsing dishes—but I knew better. I knew he was giving me space, maybe even giving himself a moment to process things. I didn’t push him. I let him have his moment. God knows I needed mine too.But it was our last night together—for a while, at least. And even though I knew we’d both play it cool, part of me just wanted to pull him into bed, laugh about something ridiculous, maybe eat junk f

▄︻デ══━一 COLTON HAYES💥 She works for a huge company—like huge. The kind with polished cars, polished people, polished everything. And they’d flooded the entire town like a damn tidal wave, suits and cameras and government tags all at once. It made Dusty Creek feel even smaller than usual, like a dent in the road they were just pausing to fix before moving on. The reporters were polite, the crew looked like they’d been trained not to blink unless cleared by PR. Everyone wore black or grey or beige, and somehow even the coffee cups looked branded.Vanessa was dressed and out of bed by the time I woke up—leather jacket, jeans, boots laced up, already brushing her hair back and tucking her phone into her pocket like she’d never stopped. She’d left me a note on the nightstand that said, “Gone to pick up the crew. Be back soon. Love, V.” A damn note. I sat up with it in my hand for too long, just staring at her handwriting like it might give me more time.She needed to go pick up her crew

★。＼｜／。★VANESSA DAVIS★。／｜＼。★The next morning, I woke up before my alarm—before the sun even rose over Manhattan’s jagged skyline. The city hadn’t stretched its arms yet, but I was wide awake, eyes open to the soft blue tint of morning crawling through the window. This isn’t the normal time I’d wake up. But I’d been on colton’s farm for months, it changed my sleeping schedule. Who gets up at five am, anyways?I still think that’s nuts. My alarm is set for seven am. Eight on workdays, ten on weekends when i liked to sleep in. I didn’t usually do early mornings that’s the main gist of things. They reminded me too much of anxiety—rushing to get ahead, feeling like I was already behind before I’d even brushed my teeth. No one needs to be under so much pressure that they woke up at an ungodly hour. But today was different i guess. Maybe it was the fresh distance from the farm, or the ache in my chest that still hadn’t settled after last night’s call with Colton. Or maybe it was just the

▄︻デ══━一 COLTON HAYES💥 It’s only been a day since I last saw Vanessa—but hell, it feels longer than that. I know it’s overdramatic, especially since we spoke on the phone not twenty-four hours ago, but waking up without her? Walking through my house with no trace of her presence? It all feels off. Like the walls are holding their breath, waiting for her to walk back in.The guest bedroom she’d been staying in is too quiet now. I stripped the sheets this morning, folded them, and tossed them in the laundry. Shouldn’t have. The smell of her body cream—vanilla and something warmer underneath it—was still faint on the pillowcases. Now, the room just smells like detergent and dust.I’ve been sleeping in that room since she left.Yeah, I’ve got my own bed. Big, warm, full of my own scent and the creak of familiar springs. But her room? That’s where she used to curl up at night. That’s where I’d sometimes find her dozing off with her laptop or bundled up in the oversized hoodie or shirt she

▄︻デ══━一 COLTON HAYES💥 The riot carried on until the sun began to set, voices rising like wildfire across town square until they frayed and faded, leaving behind nothing but exhausted anger and the hum of plans being made.By some miracle of shared rage and grief, the townspeople agreed to run an emergency election the very next day. They weren’t waiting for bureaucracy or permission. The vote was going to happen—paper ballots, word of mouth, and all. That’s the thing about Dusty Creek: when they’re done with you, they’re done.I love this town, i feel like i should have started this riot years ago when people were losing their homes. We could have outvoted anyone who supported the mayor. Well, you know what they say. Better late than never.Even then, people talked like Sheriff Bastillo had a shot at redemption, but I didn’t buy it. Letting people get poisoned under your watch, standing by as a town suffers—it wasn’t something anyone in Dusty Creek would overlook. Not now. Not when