Chace grimaces slightly. "Yeah. He runs the place, Haze."
I turn back to Eli, still trying to process. "You're—you run Clark Ranch?"
"Someone had to." His voice is cold. "Your aunt's holding it together with duct tape and stubbornness. Money's tight. Hands are few. That colt isn't a hobby—he's a necessity."
My stomach drops. "She didn't tell me things were this bad—"
“Why would she?" He's in my space now, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "You talked to her every week and never once asked how things really were. You didn't want to know, so you didn't ask."
The accusation lands hard because it's true.
"Five years, Hazel." His voice drops lower. "You asked just enough to feel like you cared. Never the hard questions. Never how bad things really were."
My chest tightens. "That's not—"
"Your aunt was struggling and you didn't see it because you didn't want to see it."
He stops himself, jaw working like he's physically biting back the rest of the sentence.
"How bad is it?" I press, needing to know. "What aren't you saying?"
"Ask her yourself." His eyes are cold, distant in a way that hurts more than anger. "Since you're so good at showing up when it's convenient."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" Something breaks in his voice, just for a second. "You walked away clean while the rest of us stayed and dealt with the fallout. Don't talk to me about fair."
My throat closes around whatever response I might have had.
"Okay, timeout," Chace tries again, stepping forward with exaggerated calm. "Before someone says something they can't take back, how about Hazel grabs some water, you take a walk, and we all reconvene when we're feeling less flammable?"
"I talk to Mae every week," I say, needing him to understand. "She never told me any of this."
"Yeah, well." His jaw works. "She's good at that."
His shoulders tense, but he takes a step back. "Just stay out of the pen unless you clear it with me first."
Something flickers across his face—confirmation and resentment and bone-deep exhaustion all at once.
"Yeah." His voice is flat, empty. "Funny how things fall to the people who stick around."
The words hit exactly where he meant them to, precise as a knife between ribs.
He turns and walks away, boots biting into dirt with each step, leaving nothing but dust and silence behind him.
I stand there with my hands curling into fists at my sides, the sun hot on my back and shame burning hotter in my chest.
Chace exhales slowly and turns to me. "So that could've gone better."
I don't laugh.
“In my defense, I tried." He attempts his usual grin but it doesn't quite land. He watches Eli's retreating figure, concern flickering across his face before he masks it. "He's been wound pretty tight lately."
I stare at the dirt where Eli stood, his words still ringing in my ears.Money's tight. Hands are few. That colt's a necessity.
"How bad is it really?" I ask quietly. "The ranch."
Chace's expression shifts—careful now. "Bad enough that every decision matters. Every dollar. Every risk."
