Winnie’s jaw clenched. She handed over the rope and turned toward me. Each step deliberate, like approaching a wild animal. She stopped ten feet away—close enough to talk, far enough to run. Arms crossed, defensive.
“What are you doing here, Beau?”
“I came to see you race.” The words felt inadequate. “You were incredible. Fifteen point three—”
“Yeah. It is.” No warmth. “You didn’t answer. What are you doing here, in the parking lot, waiting?”
“I needed to talk to you. To explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain.” Her voice rose, emotion bleeding through. “You stayed in Dallas for a week. You made decisions without talking to me. About my life. My ranch. My finances.” She stepped closer, anger overtaking caution. “Do you know what that feels like? Having someone go through my records? Having strangers know about Pops’ surgery bills before I even get a say?”
The accusation hit. “I was trying to help—”
“You were trying to fix me.” She cut me off. “Like I’m a problem that needs your money to solve. I’ve spent my whole life having people make decisions for me—social workers, foster systems, court-appointed strangers deciding what I deserved. And then you.” Her voice cracked. “You did the same thing. Went behind my back. Took my choice away.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“Isn’t it?” Tears spilled now. “You disappeared for seven days, Beau. No calls. No texts. Just silence while I spiraled. And when I broke—when I swallowed every ounce of pride and called you at 2 AM because Pops was in surgery—you answered from a party.”
The blow landed physical. “That wasn’t—my parents threw it for investors—”
“You couldn’t leave a party to talk to me because you were worried about investors.” She laughed, harsh. “That’s who you are.”
“That’s not true—”
“Isn’t it?” She stepped closer, close enough I could see gold flecks in her eyes. “You say you want to explain, but what you really want is for me to make this easier. To absolve you. To tell you it’s okay you disappeared while I fell apart.”
“I’m here now,” I said, voice breaking. “I’m trying.”
“You’re here because you feel guilty.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But that doesn’t change what you’re going to do. You’re still going back. You’re still signing those papers because turning down a million dollars for me is insane. And I get it. Logic wins.”
“Logic doesn’t matter when I love you!”
The words exploded out. Raw. Desperate. True.
She froze. Eyes wide, breath hitching. “What?”
“I love you.” I said it again, quieter. “I’m in love with you, Winnie. Have been since you let me see you vulnerable. Since every morning you handed me coffee. I love you. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like you don’t get a choice.”
She stared, lips parted, breathing hard.
Then she shook her head.
“No.”
“No?”
“You don’t get to do this.” Her voice shook. “You don’t get to disappear, make deals about my life, go through my private records like I’m a charity case, and then throw ‘I love you’ at me like a band-aid.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“Then what are you trying to do? I’ve been treated like someone else’s decision my whole life. Every file, every case worker, every sealed record someone else got to read while I waited to be told who I was. I’m done being the problem someone else fixes without asking.”
The words gutted me. “Winnie, I wasn’t trying to take your choice—”
“But you did.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “You decided what I needed. What was best. Without asking. Just like everyone else.”
“Then tell me what you need.”
