"I didn't take the deal." The words came out firm, clear, no hesitation this time. "I walked away. From the VP position, from Sterling Industries, from all of it. I'm not going back to Dallas."
She stared at me, her expression flickering through disbelief, hope, fear, settling on cautious skepticism. "You... what?"
"I quit. Officially resigned last Monday. Walked out of a board meeting where my dad was literally introducing me as the new VP of Strategic Development. Left the paperwork on the table after I had driven straight to a dealership to buy a truck." I gestured vaguely toward the driveway. "That blue F-250 out there? That's mine. Paid for with money that's actually mine, not my father's."
"You bought a truck." She said it like I'd announced I'd bought a spaceship. "A work truck."
"Well, yeah. Can't exactly haul hay in a Mercedes." I tried for a smile, but she wasn't ready for humor yet. "Winnie, I should've done this from the beginning. The second my dad laid out that deal, I should've told him to go to hell and gotten on the first flight back here. But I was scared. Scared of making the wrong choice, of disappointing everyone, of not having a safety net. So I froze. And in freezing, I hurt you. I'm so sorry."
She was shaking her head, processing, her arms still locked tight across her chest. "You walked away from a million dollars. From your family's company. Your inheritance."
"Most of which I didn't actually own anyway. Turns out when your entire life is funded by your father, you don't own much of anything." I took a careful step closer. "I liquidated what assets were actually mine—about two hundred grand, which sounds like a lot until you realize it's all I have in the world. No trust fund access until I'm thirty-five, no penthouse, no company salary. Just that money, the truck, and whatever I can earn working."
Pops let out a low whistle. "Two hundred thousand ain't nothin' to sneeze at, son. That's more than most folks see in five years of hard work."
"I know. And I'm grateful for it. But it's also not the millions my dad was offering. It's not enough to 'save' the ranch single-handedly or play hero." I looked at Winnie, willing her to understand. "Which is good. Because I don't want to save you. I want to work beside you. Partner with you. Build something together that's ours, not bought with Sterling money."
Her eyes were shining now, tears threatening to spill over, but her voice stayed steady. "Why? Why give all that up? You could've taken the deal, worked in Dallas, visited on weekends. Had everything."
"Because I don't want everything. I want this." I gestured around the living room, at the ranch beyond the windows, at her. "I want to wake up at five AM to check cattle. Want to burn coffee in that ancient percolator and have you make fun of me for it. Want to argue with Pickles and lose, because he's still terrifying. Want to sit on the porch with Pops and learn everything he knows about running this place before age or stubbornness kills him—"
"Hey now," Pops interjected, but he was grinning.
"—and I want to be with you, Winnie. Not as some weekend visitor or guy who chose you conditionally. I want to choose you every single day, when it's easy and when it's hard. When the ranch is thriving and when we're scraping by. When you're celebrating wins and when you'rescared you can't do it alone." I closed the distance between us, stopping just short of touching her. "I love you. I'm in love with you. And I should've said it at regionals, should've gotten on my phone right then and called my dad to tell him to shove his deal. But I needed to do it right. Make sure I wasn't walking away angry and then regretting it. I needed to choose this with clear eyes."
"So you spent two weeks in Dallas doing what? Paperwork?" Her voice cracked slightly.
"Untangling my entire financial life from my father's control. Meeting with lawyers to access what money was actually mine. Setting up accounts he can't freeze. Resigning officially so there's no confusion, no way for him to drag me back with legal threats." I reached up slowly, giving her time to pull away, and when she didn't, I cupped her face in my hands. "And yeah, it took two weeks. Two weeks I should've spent calling you, texting you, letting you know I was coming back. But I was terrified that if I reached out before I'd completely severed the ties, you'd think I was hedging my bets. That I'd somehow end up pulled back to Dallas and break your heart again. So I stayed silent and finished it, and that was stupid and cowardly and I'm sorry."
A tear slipped down her cheek, and I brushed it away with my thumb. "You really quit? Just... walked out?"
"Mid-sentence. My dad was in the middle of explaining my 'strategic vision' to the board, and I interrupted him to resign. Put the letter on the table and left." I couldn't help the small smile. "Pretty sure I heard something crash as I walked out. Might've been his water glass. Might've been his composure. Hard to say."
She laughed—a broken, disbelieving sound that was the most beautiful thing I'd heard in two weeks. "You're insane. You know that, right? You gave up millions of dollars and your family's legacy for a struggling ranch and a girl who can't even afford to fix her barn roof."
"Best decision I ever made." I meant it, every word. "Winnie, I don't need millions. I need you. I need this life. And yeah, the ranch is struggling, but we'll figure it out. You won regionals—got sponsorships that are already helping I bet. We can hire more hands, invest in improvements slowly. I've got two hundred grand we can use strategically—not to take over or buy your independence, but to invest in our future. Together."
"Our future," she repeated softly, testing the words.
"If you'll have me. If you can forgive me for disappearing and being an idiot and not calling when I should've." I leaned my forehead against hers, breathing her in—hay and lavender shampoo and the Oklahoma dust that clung to everything. "I love you, Naomie Jameson. And I'm here. For real. For good. No conditions, no backup plans, no one foot out the door. Just me, choosing you, every single day."
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, searching for something—honesty, commitment, proof this wasn't another beautiful lie. Whatever she found must've satisfied her because her hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer.
"I love you too," she whispered, and my heart stopped. "I've loved you since you stalled my truck for the fifth time and laughed instead of getting frustrated. Since you faced down Pickles to protect me from reporters. Since you went with Pops to visit Nana. Or when you helped me without complaining too much." Her voice broke. "I was terrified you'd choose Dallas. Terrified I wasn't enough to make you stay."
"You were always enough. More than enough." I kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. "I was just too scared and stupid to see it clearly. But I see it now, Win. You're everything."
Then I kissed her properly—deep and desperate and full of two weeks of missing her, of choosing her, of coming home. She kissed back like she'd been starving for it, her fingers tangling in my hair, body pressed against mine, and for those perfect seconds, nothing else existed. Not the doubts or the fear or the uncertainty of what came next. Just us.
From the couch, Pops cleared his throat loudly. "Well. That's my cue to pretend I'm suddenly real interested in this wall over here. Yep. Fascinatin' wall. Might just stare at it for a while."
Winnie broke the kiss, laughing against my mouth, her face flushed and beautiful. "Pops—"
"Don't mind me. I'm just sittin' here recoverin' from surgery, probably need new glasses 'cause I definitely didn't just see my granddaughter makin' out with a boy in my livin' room." He was grinning though, one hand dramatically shielding his eyes. "Though I gotta say, Sterling—that's some commitment, quittin' your job just to kiss my granddaughter. Little extreme, but I respect the dedication."
I laughed, keeping one arm around Winnie's waist because letting go felt impossible. "Had to make sure I was worthy of her, sir. Figured showing up broke but committed was better than showing up rich but conditional."
"Broke with two hundred grand," Pops corrected, lowering his hand to shoot me a knowing look. "That ain't broke, son. That's seed money. That's a future if you're smart with it."
