I shrug. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’ve done a crap job of trusting you with the truth.”
We sit in silence for a beat, the porch swing rocking gently, the ranch spread out before us in warm, golden light. Emmy’s giggles drift on the breeze as she chases a chicken through the yard. It’s domestic chaos and peace all rolled into one.
“I found a letter,” she says suddenly. “In the study. From my dad.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah?”
She nods. “He said everything he did was for me. For Emmy. That he wanted me to build something real here.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I think that’s what he was trying to do, in his own way. He trusted me to look after this place, and you.”
“And you have,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Even when I didn’t make it easy.”
I chuckle softly. “You? Difficult? Never.”
She smacks my arm lightly, but she’s smiling now, the tension in her shoulders easing. And damn if that smile doesn’t knock something loose in my chest. It’s thekind of smile that says maybe, just maybe, we’re going to be okay. I’d take a hundred arguments if it meant ending up here.
“I don’t want secrets between us,” she says.
“Me neither.” I meet her gaze head-on. “So ask me anything. No more hiding.”
She studies me for a long moment, then leans back against the swing, sipping her lemonade. “Okay. First question, why on earth are you still working on this ranch if you’ve got more money than God?”
I grin. “Because this ranch gave me everything that mattered. your dad took a chance on me. This land gave me purpose. And now,” I glance at her. “Now it’s about more than work. It’s about you. Emmy. Us.”
She raises an eyebrow. “So you’re a rich, rugged cowboy who builds things, cooks, takes care of my daughter, and doesn’t brag about it?”
“Sounds exhausting when you put it like that.”
She laughs, the sound like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. Then her eyes gleam with mischief.
“Well, I’m thrilled for you,” she says sweetly. “Truly. But if you turn out to be secretly royalty too, I’m gonna need a tiara.”
I bark out a laugh, the tension melting into something lighter. Real.
The sun dips lower, painting everything in amber light. And for the first time, maybe ever, I let myself believe we might just get this right.
She doesn’t ask anything else for a while, and I let the silence sit between us like an old friend. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s thoughtful. Honest.
“I don’t talk about my past much,” I begin, my voice low. “Mostly because there’s not a lot worth remembering.”
Avery turns her head, eyes searching mine. I push forward.
“I grew up just outside of town. My dad worked the rigs until it broke him, bad back, bad habits. He started drinking, a lot. My mom worked two jobs just to keep food on the table.
I learned early that nothing comes easy. That you can bust your ass and still come up short.”
I pause, watching Emmy climb the porch steps and dart past us with a feather clutched in her hand, completely unaware she’s keeping me grounded.
“When I met your dad, I was fourteen. He caught me fixing up my neighbor’s old truck, asked if I wanted a real job. I figured I’d last a week. Ended up staying.”
Avery listens quietly, her fingers lightly tapping her glass.
“I saved everything, lived lean, watched the markets, and inherited a rundown stretch of pasture my grandfather left behind. Everyone said it was worthless, but I took a chance, sank a rig, and struck oil. Just once, but it was enough to change everything.”
"But I didn’t want to leave this place. It’s where I learned who I was. Jack gave me a second chance at life, my dad was a mean drunk and not someone you wanted to hang out with."
"He let me stay here in the bunkhouse as much as I wanted. That meant a lot to me, I felt I owed him everything I could give him on the ranch.”
