I deleted the message, but I knew it wouldn't matter. He was coming whether I wanted him to or not. Coming to this place where I was barely holding my pieces together, where every day felt like walking through a minefield of memories.
Thunder rumbled again, closer now. The air had that electric quality that came before big storms—charged, dangerous, full of potential for destruction or renewal.
I thought about Louisa's words. About second chances and breaking things to reset them properly. About choosing.
But what happened when all your choices led to pain? When staying hurt and leaving hurt, and there was no path that didn't end in someone bleeding?
The first fat raindrops started to fall as I drove back to the ranch. By the time I pulled up to my cabin, it was pouring—sheets of water that turned the world gray and uncertain. I sat in my car, watching the rain pound against the windshield, and tried to prepare myself for what was coming.
Mark in Copper Creek. Doug evaluating everything with his sharp city eyes. The board members who held my future in their manicured hands.
And somewhere on this ranch, Wyatt was probably watching the same storm, hating me with the same intensity I'd claimed to hate him.
Except we'd both been lying. We didn't hate each other.
That would have been so much easier than the truth.
Chapter 14
Ivy
By Tuesday morning, my nerves were frayed down to threads.
Too many fights, too many feelings, too many things I couldn’t outrun. Louisa’s words from lunch still echoed in my head—all that talk about second chances and healing—and I couldn’t tell if she’d meant the ranch or me. Maybe both.
Then my boss called.We’re coming down for a full inspection next week,he’d said in that clipped, too-polite tone that always meant trouble. And just when I thought my chest couldn’t get any tighter, he dropped the kicker.Mark will be joining us.
Mark. My ex. My very not-over-it ex, who apparently thought boundaries were optional.
So yeah. I was done.
I needed out—out of the barn, out of the office, out from under the constant weight of Wyatt Blackwood’s silence pressing on every nerve I had left.
The ranch felt… tense. The hands moved quieter, glances flicking between us like they could feel the static hanging in the air. Even the cattle seemed uneasy, shifting and lowing in the fields as if they knew something had gone off balance.
By ten o’clock, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the data sheets aside, grabbed my truck keys, and told myself I was just running into town for supplies. But the truth was simpler — I needed space. Air. Distance. Somewhere that didn’t smell like hay and leather andhim.
"I'm going to town," I told Louisa, finding her in the garden pulling early tomatoes. "Thought I'd grab lunch supplies from Dottie's for the weekend."
She studied me with those knowing eyes. "You sure that's a good idea? Going to town alone?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
She hesitated, then said, "Your father's been drinking heavy lately. More than usual. The word is him at Murphy's most nights, talking ugly about you being back."
A chill ran through me despite the morning heat. "He won't do anything in public."
"Honey, when has that ever stopped Art Garrison?"
But I went anyway, stubborn and stupid, thinking fourteen years and city polish had made me brave.
Dottie's Diner hummed with the tail end of the breakfast crowd. The bell chimed as I entered, and I got the usual mix of curious looks and tentative smiles. I'd earned back some respect with my work at the ranch, but small towns had long memories.
"Ivy!" Dottie called out, her voice warm. "What can I get you, hon?"
I placed my order—extra supplies for the weekend, some of her special pie that Louisa swore by—and settled at the counter with coffee while she gathered everything. The diner felt safe, normal. Jim Richardson was arguing with Buck about cattle prices in the corner booth. Sarah Chen was trying to keep her toddler from throwing crackers.
Just another Tuesday in Copper Creek.
