"We can barely be in the same room without fighting."
"At least you're feeling something. That boy's been walking around like a ghost for so long, I'd forgotten what he looked like angry. Anger's not comfortable, but it's alive. It's a start."
"A start to what?"
“Healing, maybe. Forgiveness. Second chances.”
Louisa’s voice was soft, but it carried easily over the low hum of the diner—the scrape of forks, the hiss of the griddle, the easy rhythm of Copper Creek life still turning outside our little bubble. She smiled, that knowing, motherly curve that could warm a room faster than coffee ever could.
“This place has always been about second chances,” she said, wrapping both hands around her mug. “Owen and I gave each other one, all those years ago.”
She glanced toward the window, where the light slanted across the dusty street, a wistful shine in her eyes. “Lord, I wanted to rip that man a new one when he didn’t write me a single letter the whole time I was off at college. Four damn years, not so much as apostcard. When I got home, I was ready to let him have it—both barrels.”
Her grin turned sly. “He just looked at me, cool as you please, and said, ‘Had to make something of myself before I came for you.’ Can you imagine?”
I couldn’t help laughing. “What did you do?”
“I said, ‘Well, you about done yet?’” Louisa chuckled, shaking her head. “And that was that. Been inseparable ever since. That man drives me crazy, but he’s the love of my life.”
Her laughter faded into something quieter, more tender. “We gave the Walkers one, too, after they lost their parents. This ranch… It’s always been built on the idea that broken things can be mended. That with enough care and time, what’s damaged can grow back stronger.”
She looked at me then—really looked—her eyes steady and kind. “You of all people should know that, Ivy. Sometimes life tears things apart just to give us the chance to build them better.”
The words landed deep, stirring something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. Outside, the neon “OPEN” sign flickered against the glass, and for a second, I thought maybe Louisa wasn’t just talking about the ranch.
I wanted to believe her. Sitting in this bright café, with her warm presence across from me and the familiar rhythms of Copper Creek outside the window, I almost let myself imagine it. Staying. Building something here. Finding a way back to?—
My phone buzzed on the table.
Doug's name on the screen was like cold water on a fire.
"I should take this," I said apologetically. "It's my boss."
Louisa nodded, but I saw the concern flicker across her face as I stepped outside to answer.
"Doug," I said, trying to inject professional enthusiasm into my voice.
"Ivy! How's the frontier treating you?" His voice was cheerful, but I'd worked with him long enough to hear the edge underneath. "Making good progress?"
"Excellent progress. The implementation is ahead of schedule, actually."
"Good, good. Listen, the board is very interested in this project. Very interested. They want to see firsthand how their investment is performing."
My stomach dropped. "Oh?"
"We're flying in next week. Tuesday. Me, a couple of board members." He paused, and I knew what was coming before he said it. "Mark's coming too."
"Mark? Why would Mark?—"
"He's been instrumental in securing the international contracts we discussed. The board thinks his presence would be valuable for the global expansion conversation."
"Doug, I don't think?—"
"He also mentioned you two had some personal things to work through. Something about a misunderstanding before you left?" His tone was carefully neutral, but I heard the question underneath. Doug didn't like personal drama affecting his business deals.
"We broke up," I said flatly. "Before I left Dallas. It's over."
"Well, he seems to think otherwise. Look, Ivy, I don't care about your personal life except when it affects this company. The Blackwood contract is huge for us. Don't let whatever's going on with you and Mark jeopardize that."
