Boone reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Jonah, who hesitated before accepting. They lit up in silence, smoke curling between them.
“I got Walker a puppy,” he said on an exhale.
Jonah whipped around to stare at him like he had lost his mind. “What?”
He nodded toward his truck. “It’s either going to be the best Christmas present ever or a complete disaster. Sure you don’t want to stick around for it?”
Jonah stared at him for a long moment, and Boone saw the flicker of interest beneath his carefully neutral expression. He took a deep drag of his cigarette, held the smoke in his lungs, then exhaled slowly through his nose.
“You got Walker a puppy,” he repeated flatly. “That’s what you came to tell me? That’s your big play to make me stay?”
Boone shrugged. “No. Just making conversation.”
The cab filled with silence and cigarette smoke. Outside, the snow fell harder, fat flakes sticking to the windshield where Jonah had just cleared it. Already a thin layer was building up again. The temperature was dropping fast; Boone could feel it seeping through the glass.
“Look,” Boone said finally. “I was an asshole this morning.”
“You were honest,” Jonah countered, tapping ash into the cupholder. “I was out of line calling the sheriff.”
“You didn’t know.” He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with apologies but knowing this one was necessary. “I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that. You were trying to do the right thing.”
Jonah’s jaw worked, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not cut out for this place.”
A bark from Boone’s truck made them both turn. The Cattle Dog puppy had its front paws up on the window, its tongue lolling out as it fogged up the glass with excited pants. Bishop sat stoically beside it, dignified even with the puppy bouncing around like a furry pinball.
“That the puppy?” Jonah asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite his attempt to maintain his stony expression.
“Yeah. My mom’s neighbor had a sign up at the end of their driveway, so I stopped. It seemed like the thing to do since Walker gave me Bishop last Christmas.”
Another bark, higher-pitched and demanding attention.
“Think he’ll like it?” Jonah asked.
Boone took a drag of his cigarette, considering. “Fifty-fifty. Either way, the dog belongs to the ranch now. Same as you.”
For a moment, they sat in silence, watching the snow fall. It was coming down harder now, the flakes swirling in the glow of the truck’s headlights. Visibility was getting worse by the minute.
“You know,” Boone said, looking out at the snow-covered yard, at the ranch that had become home, “I sat in this exact spot last Christmas. Engine running. Truck packed.” He gestured to the duffel on the seat between them. “Ready to bail.”
Jonah glanced at him, wary but curious. “Walker’s mentioned that before.”
“Did he tell you why I almost left?”
“No.”
“I was convinced I didn’t belong here. That Walker and Johanna were wasting their time. That I was too broken to stay.” He took a final drag and crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray, hating that he already wanted another one. He really needed to quit. “Sound familiar?”
Jonah’s jaw tightened, his throat working as he swallowed. His cigarette hung forgotten between his fingers. “It’s different.”
“Yeah? How?”
“You...” Jonah stared at the steering wheel like it held answers. “You were dealing with real trauma. The bar fight, prison, your mom. I’m just...” He trailed off, searching for the words. “I’m just taking up space. No mission. No purpose.”
“You think I felt useful?” Boone asked, letting out a harsh laugh. “Man, I was a wreck. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t talk about what happened without wanting to put my fist through a wall. Hated everyone, especially myself. Didn’t think I deserved any of this. The ranch. Walker. The second chance. Bishop. None of it.”
“But you still stayed?”
“Yeah. I stayed.” Boone looked at him steadily. “Walker didn’t give up on me when I had nothing. I’m not giving up on you.”
