"Together," she says, smiling.
"Together," I agree.
And standing there with her, the ranch spread out around us and the future opening up ahead of us, I know we're going to be okay. Better than okay.
For the first time in two years, I'm not afraid of what's coming. Because whatever challenges we face, we'll face them together.
Frank would be proud. My mom's going to love her. And the ranch. Promise Ranch, is going to thrive again.
Sometimes the best things in life come from the most unexpected places. Like a curvy, determined woman who showed up to invest in a failing ranch and ended up investing in me instead.
I kiss her there in the fading light, and it feels like a promise. Like a new start.
Like coming home.
Epilogue – Sierra
Two Years Later
The kitchen at Wade's mom's house smells like cinnamon and apple pie, and I'm trying very hard not to steal a bite before dinner is officially served.
Our son, Frank—named after the man who started it all—is balanced on my hip, his chubby hand reaching for everything on the counter.
"No, baby boy," I say, redirecting his attention to the wooden spoon I brought as a distraction. "That's for later."
"Let him have a taste," Wade's mom, Carol, says from where she's pulling a roast from the oven. "A little sugar never hurt anyone."
"Mom, don't undermine my parenting," Wade calls from the living room, where he's setting up the table for dinner.
"I'm not undermining. I'm grandmothering. There's a difference." Carol winks at me, sneaking Frank a tiny piece of apple anyway.
Frank squeals with delight, and I can't help but smile. This, all of this, is everything I never knew I needed two years ago when I first drove up to Promise Ranch with nothing but hope and a desperate need to prove myself.
"He's got you wrapped around his little finger," I tell Carol, adjusting Frank on my hip. At twelve months old, exactly one year today, he's getting heavy, solid and strong like his father.
"As he should. That's what grandsons are for." Carol closes the oven and turns to me, her expression softening. "Happy first birthday to this little man. And happy first anniversaryof motherhood to you. How are you holding up, sweetheart? I know the holidays can be hard with your family situation."
My chest tightens slightly. Two years, and it still stings. "I'm okay. Better than okay, actually. I have all the family I need right here."
It's true, even if it hurts to admit my blood family isn't part of that anymore.
The final breaking point came six months ago, right after Frank was born. My mother and sisters had called to "congratulate" me, though it became clear within five minutes that they'd really called to criticize every choice I'd made.
*"A ranch, Sierra? You're really going to raise a child out here in the middle of nowhere?"*
*"That man doesn't even have a college degree. What kind of future can he provide?"*
*"You could have done so much better. Dad would be so disappointed."*
I'd hung up. Blocked their numbers. Told them through email not to contact me again until they could respect my choices, my husband, and my life. They'd responded with vitriol, calling me ungrateful, selfish, brainwashed by Wade.
I haven't spoken to them since.
"Your father would be so proud of you," Carol says now, as if reading my thoughts. She does that sometimes, sees right through me with the same intuition Wade has. "You took his money and built something real. Something that matters. That ranch is thriving because of you and Wade working together."
"It's thriving because of a lot of hard work," I say, but warmth spreads through my chest anyway.
She's not wrong. Promise Ranch is doing better than anyone could have imagined two years ago. The irrigation system is fixed. The fencing is new. The equipment actually works. We've upgraded our breeding program and started the direct-to-consumer beef operation I'd proposed that first day.
