There’s a chorus of dramatic groans.
“Barely,” Roman moans. “Creed tried to make toast and set off the hotel fire alarm.”
“I didn’t know the setting went that high,” Creed mutters defensively.
“And Ezra keeps forgetting to sleep,” Sloane adds. “He looks like an emotionally tortured ghost. More than usual.”
Ezra sighs loudly into the phone. “I’m being bullied.”
“You’re being managed,” Roman corrects.
Despite all the teasing, the affection in their voices bleeds through. They’re exhausted, unruly, barely holding themselves together on the road, and still checking in on me.
It squeezes my chest.
Sloane softens. “We’ll be back in town soon. Then we’re taking you out. We’ll celebrate your new life properly.”
“I miss you guys,” I whisper.
“We miss you too,” Roman declares. “And we’re proud of you.”
“Don’t forget to eat,” Ezra adds.
The call ends eventually, and when the room goes quiet again, it no longer feels lonely.
It’s full of their love and their belief in me.
I lie back on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling, letting the truth settle in.
Sunridge Ranch is strange.
New.
Huge.
Uncertain.
But I’m here.
And I’m not running anymore.
CHAPTER FOUR
Silas
Morningsat the ranch are usually my thing.
Not the waking up part… hell, no.
But the ideas part.
The second I’m conscious, my brain is buzzing: flyers for the next event, which vendors to charm, how to convince the mayor that letting me put a mechanical bull in the middle of Main Street would “boost morale and stimulate local commerce.”
It’s a gift.
Boone calls it “a menace.”
Same difference.
