We sit on the porch swing while Emmy plays in the yard, her giggles floating through the warm morning air like bird song. I tell him everything, about the trust, the board seat, the job offer. I don’t sugarcoat any of it.
Cash listens without interrupting, but I can feel the tension in his body, the stillness of someone bracing for a hit.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit when I’ve laid it all out. “It’s everything I worked for. Everything I used to want.”
“And now?” he asks.
I look out across the land, where golden light spills over the barn’s fresh planks, casting long, amber shadows across the dew-soaked grass. The scent of hay and honeysuckle lingers in the air, carried by a soft morning breeze.
The horses graze lazily beyond the fence line, tails swishing rhythmically, while Emmy, barefoot andbeaming, darts after a trio of squawking chickens with a plastic tiara sliding crooked on her head. Her laughter bubbles up like a song, wild and free, painting this morning in a shade of joy I never knew I needed. I take a deep breath.
“I want this too,” I whisper. “But I don’t know if I can have both.”
He nods slowly. “You could do great things in Austin, Avery. No doubt in my mind,” he says, but there’s a catch in his voice, a faint crack he tries to swallow. His gaze drops for half a second, and when it lifts again, his jaw is tight. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do great things here too.”
Tears prick at my eyes. “What if I choose wrong?”
He reaches for my hand, and there’s a pause, just long enough to feel it. “There is no wrong choice. There’s only the one you can live with. And I’ll support you, no matter where that takes you.”
His words are steady, but his voice, his eyes, are heartbreakingly soft.
And that’s what makes it worse.
Because the idea of leaving him, leaving this, feels like losing something I didn’t even know I needed until now.
I look down at our joined hands, the way his thumb brushes mine in soft, steady strokes. That single gesture unravels me more than any speech could. He’s giving me the freedom to choose, and somehow, that makes choosing even harder.
“I spent so long chasing that version of success,” I say quietly. “The corner office, the fast-paced campaigns, the accolades. It was all about proving I could win in a man’s world. That I wasn’t just some barrel racer with a pretty face and too many opinions.”
He gives me a half smile. “You’ve always been more than that. Everyone who matters sees it.”
“But it’s different now,” I go on. “Here, I feel like I’m part of something bigger than just my own ambition. I look around and I see roots, deep, messy, beautiful roots. Emmy loves it. You’ve made this more than a home, you made this a place I want to be.
Cash is quiet for a beat, then murmurs, “You don’t have to give up who you were to become who you are. You can carry both.”
His words knock something loose in my chest, and for a long moment, I can’t breathe around the knot forming in my throat. “That job offer, it’s everything I ever wanted. But I don’t want to wake up five years fromnow, wondering if I traded something rare for something familiar.”
“You won’t have to wonder,” he says. “Because no matter what happens, you’re not alone anymore.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes as Emmy’s laughter rings out again. The world doesn’t stop spinning just because I’m standing at a crossroads, but maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to pick a direction today.
Not yet. I tell Cash, "I have to go and hear them out at least. I don't want to have any regrets looking back at this moment. I've wanted this forever, I've worked hard for it."
But even as I say it, my mind keeps drifting back to Emmy. To her tiny voice asking if we can ride the ponies every day. To the way she clings to Cash like she’s known him her whole life. How her drawings now include a barn, a big sun, and a smiling cowboy with a crooked hat.
I know what this place means to me. But what does it mean to her?
Later, while Cash heads to the barn and Harper’s on a call, I sit with Emmy on the porch swing. She’s coloring, her tongue poking out in concentration, whileI sip tea and try to pretend my heart isn’t breaking in a dozen different directions.
“Sweetheart,” I say gently, “can I ask you something?”
She looks up. “Mmhmm.”
“How would you feel if Mommy got a job in the city again? A really big job. We’d have to move. There wouldn’t be horses, cows, or chickens, but there’d be parks and museums and lots of fun things to do.”
Her crayon stops moving.
“Would Cash come?” she asks.
