I was so angry. More than I could say. Cole had promised me he wouldn’t run off again, that he wouldn’t justabandon me. But there I was, stuck at the ranch trying to do his job and mine while attempting to keep myself under control.
Both Evelyn and I were scared to death that Cole had gone and done something stupid. Every time my phone went off, I thought the worst. But it wasn’t until Mr. Whitaker and the new lawyer were schedule to show up that I finally saw Cole’s truck pull into the driveway.
I rushed out the front door and down the porch steps with Evelyn at my heels and anger seething in my chest.
Cole jumped out of the cab before the engine was even off. He looked like shit in an old t-shirt, yesterday’s jeans, and his hat pulled low to shade his face. Two days without shaving had left him patchy and mean, a wolf gone to feral. I barely made it off the porch before I was screaming at him.
“Where thefuckhave you been?!” I shouted. I didn’t even try to keep the worry out of my voice, let alone the accusation. “You can’t just disappear like that!”
He moved past me, straight up the porch steps, careful not to meet my eyes. “I had business.”
“Business?” I grabbed his arm, spinning him around. “You haven’t answered my calls, you haven’t been home, and now the lawyers are coming up the drive and you wanna act likeeverything’s fine? That you haven’t beenmissingfor two fucking days?”
Cole shook me off, but his hands were trembling. “I said I had something to do. Now quit squawkin’ and let’s just get this over with.”
Evelyn hovered at the top of the steps, her brows drawn tight together. “Cole, honey?—”
He pushed inside, leaving the door swinging in the wind behind him. For a full second, I wanted to chase after him and tackle him right there on the living room rug and scream until he either hit me or told me the truth. Maybe both. Instead, I just followed, mind reeling.
The two lawyers, Whitaker and the new guy, a thin snake in a suit who looked like he’d never shoveled real shit for pay, arrived right on time. Whitaker started with polite greetings, but his tone was grim. The other lawyer was all smirks and questions, eyes flickering over our dust and blood like he could already see it on the auction block. Or something worse.
The audit started in the office, with both lawyers sitting across the desk from us like it was the world’s most fucked up job interview. They asked for the books, the contracts, the inventory printouts. I did most of the talking. Cole sat at the far end of the desk with his hands in his lap, silent unless directly spoken to.
The questions never let up… how did we split the work, what were our roles, who did the bookkeeping, why were jobs assigned the way they were. Did we ever have disagreements? How did we resolve them? Was there ever a time one of us left the other to handle things alone?
“Christ, is this about the beef sales or about us?” I finally snapped after the third time snake-guy dug into how we lived and worked together. “You wanna see my browser history, too?”
Whitaker gave me a look, the way a teacher does when you’re three seconds from detention. “It’s standard procedure, Jesse. There’s been a claim of… discord in the living arrangements.”
“You mean a rumor,” I shot back. “Started by Mack Hollister.”
Snake lawyer, Mr. Briggs was his name, smiled, showing off small too-white teeth. “Rumors matter when it comes to the intent of the decedent. We must ensure the estate is being managed in accordance with Jack Nelson’s wishes.” He glanced over at Mr. Whitaker. “An objective third-party was needed to check the reporting to make sure there was no favoritism made or clauses overlooked. We have to make sure Jack’sintentionsfor you boys and the ranch are being honored.”
“You know what?” Cole said suddenly, surprising everyone. “I’m tired of this pussy-footing around and this talk of whatmyfather meant with his will.” He looked Mr. Briggs directly in the eye. “Have you found a clause in my father’s will that says Jesse and I aren’t allowed to fuck?”
The air in the office went dead. I didn’t even have time to feel shock before a wicked pride snaked up my ribs. This was the Cole I’d missed, the one who’d sooner torch the barn than tiptoe around a goddamn problem. Even Whitaker looked momentarily stunned, while Mr. Briggs blinked twice, lips parting as if he’d been slapped.
Cole leaned forward, hands braced on the desk, and repeated: “Well? Is there a line in there says we gotta sleep in separate beds?”
Whitaker cleared his throat. “There’s… no such clause, Cole. The will expresses expectations of joint management and continuing the Nelson family legacy?—”
“Which is what we’ve done,” Cole interrupted, chin out, eyes blazing. “Nobody cares about the rest except the kind of peoplewho’d rather see the whole place burn than let a couple of queers run cattle on it.”
Even Evelyn, who’d lingered in the hallway pretending not to eavesdrop, let out a tiny laugh, so sharp she covered her mouth right after. I almost kissed her from across the room.
Mr. Briggs shuffled some papers with his bony fingers and said, “There are… potential moral turpitude issues, per Montana code, regarding the fitness of legatees?—”
“Bullshit,” I cut in. “You can’t just come in here and say we’re unfit because you heard we might be fucking. If we’d been running the business into the ground or crooks or drunks, maybe you’d have a case, but sales are up thirty percent since winter. We’re the only thing keeping this place in the black, and Mack Hollister knows it. He thinks he knew my daddy better than I did, but he’s got another fuckin’ thing comin’.”
“You’re a clever boy, Jesse,” Briggs said with his reptile smile. “But the law cares about intent and the wishes of the deceased.”
Cole looked at me. In that moment, for the first time since he’d stormed back onto the porch, I saw him clearly. He was strung on the edge of disaster, every muscle taut, bruised from days of hiding or wrestling with what I hadn’t dared imagine. But he didn’t waver. He squared his shoulders and said, “My father loved this place, and despite what the valley thinks, he loved Jesse too. Every day of my fuckin’ life he told me the ranch came first, and it has. I’d burn my own house down before I let a grudge or a rumor finish what he spent his life buildin’.”
Something in Mr. Whitaker’s expression flickered. He’d known Jack, too. And as odd as his will was, it was written with an affection toward the two of us that couldn’t be argued. Whitaker looked at Briggs, then at me, then up at Cole. “If the question is whether you two are conducting ranch affairs according to the will, I find nothing here to suggest otherwise.”
Briggs rolled his eyes. “I suppose you don’t find any issue with the recent fistfight, either? Or with the sudden drop in regional sales?”
“No, I don’t,” Whitaker shot back. “I see here two men working like dogs to keep this operation running and defending their honor.”
