“I should—” He gestured vaguely toward the window.
“Yeah.”
He hesitated, looking at her for a long moment. Then he nodded once and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “We’ll finish this conversation.” It wasn’t a question.
“We will,” she agreed, not entirely sure if she was looking forward to it or dreading it.
The door closed behind him, and Johanna let out a long breath. She pressed her palms flat on the counter, breathing through her nose.
The house creaked around her.
The tree lights blinked their irregular rhythm in the other room.
Somewhere outside, River was probably breaking something else, and Walker was probably trying very hard not to strangle him.
And she was standing here, covered in flour, realizing that three years hadn’t made this any easier. That wanting Walker and being terrified of losing him felt exactly the same as it had when she first arrived at the ranch. That maybe River had been right to call them out, because they were stuck. Trapped in this careful dance where they both knew the steps but refused to move forward.
The door opened again. Walker came back in, his jaw tight, his shoulders squared.
“He put the goats in the bunkhouse,” he said, kicking the door closed behind him.
“Of course he did.”
“Boone’s ready to kill him.”
“Boone’s always ready to kill someone.” She put another tray of cookies in the oven and set the timer for twelve minutes. “I’m guessing the talk with River didn’t go well?”
Walker moved to the sink, turned on the water, and scrubbed his hands. The silence stretched. He dried his hands carefully on a towel and set it down, then finally turned to face her.
“That implies we actually talked.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in salt-and-pepper spikes. “He turned everything into a joke. Again. Every time I try to get him to open up about what happened with his friend, he deflects. Makes some smart-ass comment. Walks away.”
Johanna scooped cookie dough onto a fresh baking sheet. “River’s not Boone or Jonah. Or even Evander. His defense mechanisms are different.”
“His defense mechanisms are going to get him kicked out.” Walker planted his hands on the counter opposite her, leaning forward. “You said he hasn’t engaged in a single therapy session. Skipped two last week. And this morning, I caught him swapping names on the chore roster again.”
“And I’m sure Jonah switched them back.”
“That’s not the point.” Walker pushed off the counter and resumed pacing. His fingers raked through his hair again, a telltale sign of his mounting frustration. “The point is, he’s not taking any of this seriously. Valor Ridge isn’t a joke. It’s not a vacation. It’s his last chance.”
She placed the last ball of dough on the sheet, then cleaned her hands on the dish towel. Through the window, she could see Boone and River at the far fence line, River gesturing wildly while Boone stood with arms crossed.
“He uses humor like armor,” she said, turning back.
“We all have our ways of surviving,” he countered andbegan to pace. “But at some point, you have to face what happened. Deal with it. Move forward.”
She fought to keep her voice level, though Walker’s agitation was contagious, making her pulse tick up. “It’ll happen when he’s ready.”
Walker stopped pacing, his shoulders rigid under his flannel shirt. “When will that be, exactly? Six months from now? A year? Two? How long are we supposed to wait for him to take this seriously?”
“As long as it takes. You can’t force someone to heal on your timeline.”
His jaw worked, a muscle jumping near his temple. “I’m not trying to force anything. But he needs structure, discipline. Consequences for his actions.”
“What he needs,” she said, placing her palms flat on the cool counter, “is to feel safe enough to be still.” She watched understanding flicker across Walker’s face. “Think about it, Walker. He’s been in constant motion since he got here. He jokes, he pranks, he works until he drops. When was the last time you saw him sit quietly for more than five minutes?”
“Never,” he admitted.
“Exactly. Because being still means feeling it all. The guilt. The grief. The shame. Every emotion he’s running from catches up when you stop moving.”
