Emmy squeals in the distance, chasing a rabbit now, her tiny legs a blur of motion. The innocence of it makes this all feel heavier somehow. Like I’ve corrupted something sacred.
“I wanted to build something real with you,” I say, softer now. “Not because I could buy your loyalty or make your problems disappear. But because you wanted me. Just me.”
Avery blinks, and I swear I see the confusion swirl with something softer, relief, maybe, or pride. Like she’s still trying to catch up to the idea that the man in front of her is both the ranch hand she’s been fallingfor and someone with more zeros in the bank than she imagined.
She hugs the folder to her chest and lets out a stunned laugh. My chest tightens at the sound, half joy, half disbelief, and I find myself holding my breath, unsure whether she’s about to cry, laugh harder, or walk away.
“This is insane. You’ve got money, real money, and you’re still out here fixing fences like it’s your only option?” Her voice lifts, full of honest disbelief. “I mean, I’m happy for you. I really am. But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
I exhale hard. “Because this place, this land, it’s not about money for me. It’s home. It’s legacy. My granddad taught me to work with my hands, not throw cash at problems. And after what happened with Jack, walking away would have felt like betraying something bigger.”
She stares at me, her eyes searching. “You could’ve told me. I wouldn’t have cared.”
“I know that now,” I murmur, stepping closer. “But in the beginning? I didn’t know if I could trust what we were building. Or if you'd walk away once the truth showed up.”
She exhales sharply, then lets out a dry laugh. “Well, I’m thrilled for you, Cash. Really. Rich, rugged, and emotionally constipated, you’re practically a romance novel cliché.”
Her smirk softens the sting, but it still lands like a playful jab. “Next time you decide to drop a financial bombshell, maybe give a girl a heads-up. Or at least a mimosa first.”
The tension breaks with her joke, but there’s still a quiet buzz in the air. Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s everything we’re both still trying to figure out.
Later that afternoon, Harper suggests we take the horses out. Just an easy ride across the property before the sun goes down. Emmy’s already bouncing in her boots, too excited to sit still, and Avery hesitates just long enough for me to notice. But she agrees.
The four of us saddle up and head toward the back pasture, the quiet thud of hooves muffled by soft earth and the fading chirp of cicadas settling in for the evening.
The sky is brushed in strokes of orange and lavender, casting everything in that golden hush that makes you feel like the world’s holding its breath.
Even the horses seem to sense it, their pace steady and unhurried as if they, too, remember this land the way it used to be, letting the rhythm of hooves and breeze do what words can’t.
Emmy’s giggles trail behind us as her pony kicks into a little trot, and Harper hums some old tune under her breath, swaying slightly in her saddle like she was born in one.
Avery rides beside me, quiet. Too quiet. I glance her way now and then, wondering what’s running through her mind. Is she reliving old memories or second-guessing everything between us? The silence feels fragile, like a thread stretched too tight, and I don’t know whether to pull it or let it be.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, then wipes at her cheek. “Yeah. Just... this trail. I haven’t been back here since I was a kid.'
I glance around. The sun slants low across the ridge, casting golden light through the wildflowers and tall grass. The old windmill squeaks in the distance, and the scent of mesquite and sun-warmed earth fills the air.
“My dad used to take me out here when I was Emmy’s age,” she says, voice shaky. “We’d stop under that oak tree up ahead and ate peanut butter sandwiches.”
She pulls her horse to a halt beneath the same tree, looking up through its thick branches. “I used to think the world ended past this fence line. That everything important happened right here.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and she laughs softly as she brushes it away. “God, I didn’t think this would hit me like this.”
I don’t say anything. Just sit still, letting her have the space. The memories are thick here, hers, mine, and her dad's. And for a minute, none of the secrets or money or baggage matter.
Just her, on this land, rediscovering something she didn’t even realize she missed.
Harper and Emmy catch up to us, Emmy proudly waving a wildflower bouquet she picked. “Mama, look what I made you!”
Avery grins and reaches down for it. “It’s perfect, baby.”
She glances over at me, eyes still damp, but glowing now. “Thanks for this, Cash.”
I tip my hat. “Anytime.”
We sit there a moment longer, the horses shifting beneath us, the breeze lifting Avery’s hair just enough to catch the light. She glances back at the tree, then toward the hills stretching into the horizon.
