I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. That… wasn’t what I expected.
“You think he’s choosing the ranch over you?”
“I think he’s choosing himself over the life everyone’s been forcing on him. And I…” She looked down at her hands. “I’m part of that life. The galas, the press, the ‘Sterling heir and Duval heiress’ headlines. Maybe I drove here because I wanted to see if I could be different too. If I could… not be that girl.”
Before I could respond, she straightened, the vulnerability disappearing behind her glossy armor. “But also, yeah, I’m here to remind him what he’s walking away from. Because maybe he just needs a reminder.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is.” She looked at me directly for the first time, and I saw something real there—fear, maybe. Or desperation. “You seem like you actually know who you are. I’ve spent my whole life being who my parents want, who the press wants, who Beau’s family wants. I don’t even know what I like. Probably not green juice, honestly. That shit’s disgusting.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. A real one.
She smiled, just a little. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Does Beau… does he talk about me? About Dallas?”
I chose my words carefully. “He talks about who he used to be. Not always fondly.”
She nodded slowly, like she’d expected that. “Yeah. Me too.”
Before the moment could settle, the screen door banged open, and Beau strode in.
He looked incredible. There was no other word for it. His sweat-damp shirt clung to every plane of his shoulders and chest, the fabric darkened and molded to him like a second skin. He still had the hammer in one hand, his forearm flexing with the weight of it, dirt smudged across his jaw and neck.
It was offensive, honestly. No man had the right to look that good after hours of manual labor.
His eyes landed on Solene first, then me, and I saw the panic.
“Winnie,” he started, then froze. “Solene. You’re up.”
“Finally,” she said, but her voice was softer now—less performative. She slid off the stool and approached him, but not with the same predatory energy as before. “You look… different. Good different.”
Beau shifted uncomfortably. “I, uh—gotta finish the fence. Herd’s moving soon.”
“Can we talk? Just five minutes?” Her hand reached for his arm, but there was a hesitance there—like she wasn’t sure she had the right anymore.
He shot me a look over her shoulder—wide eyes, subtle plea.
I pressed my lips together to hide my grin.Figure it out, cowboy.
“Solene, really—I need to—”
“I drove five hours, Beau. Five minutes. Please.”
He sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. Okay. Five minutes.”
They walked out together, and I watched from the window as they stopped by the fence line. Solene was talking, hands moving—animated, desperate. Beau listened, arms crossed, but not unkindly. When she reached for his hand, he didn’t pull away immediately. He just… held it for a second, then gently let go, shaking his head.
She nodded, wiping at her eyes quickly, then straightened her shoulders. Said something that looked like “I understand.” Then she turned and walked back toward the guest house, alone.
Pops joined me at the window. “What do you reckon that was about?”
“Closure, maybe. Or reality check.”
“Girl’s lost,” Pops said quietly. “Reminds me of Beau when he first got here. Looking for something she can’t name.”
