She shakes her head. “As you know, Mason called. Last night.”
The name hits like a rusty nail. “Your dad’s lawyer?”
She nods, staring into her coffee. “He said there’s more. Something Dad didn’t include in the will. Something he left for me to decide.”
“Did he say what?”
“No. Just that it’s personal. And it has to be done in person.”
I study her, the way her gaze drifts to the hills beyond the fence line, the way her fingers tap the side of her cup like she’s trying to drum up courage.
“You want me to go with you?”
She hesitates. “I don’t know. Part of me feels like this is something I need to face alone.”
I nod slowly, trying not to let the twist in my gut show. I want to be there. Want to shield her from whatever weight’s about to land on her shoulders. But I get it. Some truths only unfold in solitude.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” I say, my voice steady.
Her eyes meet mine then, sharp and searching. “You always are.”
We sit in silence for a minute, just breathing the same air. Then Emmy bursts out the front door in her pajamas, boots half-on, holding a stuffed pony and shouting something about breakfast.
Avery laughs, the sound brittle at first, then genuine. She scoops Emmy into her lap and kisses her temple, and I swear I can see her grounding herself in that moment. In us.
Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it.
Even if it starts with her walking into the unknown.
The second Avery’s taillights disappear down the gravel road, I turn back to the barn with purpose gnawing in my chest. This place has been through a lot, storms, droughts, stubborn cattle, and stubborn people, but today, it starts becoming something new. Something hers. Ours.
Cody and Billy Mac are already at it when I get there. Levi’s pulling up in his truck with lumber stacked higher than Emmy’s pony. There are many familiar faces that were rounded up today to help.
“Morning, boss,” Cody calls, pushing his hat back and wiping sweat from his brow. “Got us enough wood to rebuild the barn and maybe a treehouse for Emmy too.”
“Let’s focus on the barn,” I say with a grin. “Treehouse comes later.”
The work settles into rhythm fast, nail guns popping like distant fireworks, hammers thudding with a steady beat that feels more like a heartbeat than noise, and wood slapping into place as if the ranch itself is exhaling and rebuilding with us.
The scent of cedar mixes with the earthy smell of churned dirt, and the sun climbs higher with every plank we raise. There’s a kind of peace in labor like this, the kind that keeps your hands busy and your mind just quiet enough to think.
But today, that quiet’s not peaceful, it’s restless.
I keep picturing Avery in that lawyer’s office, sitting across from Mason Reynolds with her back straight and her jaw set, bracing herself for whatever final twistJack Blake left behind. I want to be there beside her. But I know she needs to do this on her own terms.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever she’s about to learn will change everything. Again.
Billy Mac whistles low as he hops down from the ladder. “Hey, when we’re done here, think we oughta paint the new side a bold color? Give the place some flair?”
“Let’s just keep it upright first,” I mutter.
He laughs, but Levi watches me a beat too long. “You alright?” he asks, voice low.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
He nods, like he knows better than to push. That’s what I like about Levi, he’s quiet, but he sees more than most. He won’t ask again, but he’ll be there when the time comes.
By midday, we’ve got two walls fully framed and a pile of sawdust that smells like progress. Emmy runs around the edge of the site with her stuffed pony, her giggles echoing across the pasture. Harper shows up with lemonade and a smirk, bossing the guys around like she owns the place.
