My stomach drops. "And Mae just... didn't say anything."
"She didn't want you worrying. Didn't want to pull you back here out of guilt." He pauses. "But yeah. It's been rough. For a while now."
"I should've known." The words scrape out. "I should've asked the right questions. Should've—"
"Yeah," Chace says quietly, and the honesty stings. "Maybe you should've."
I swallow hard. He doesn't offer comfort or an easy out. Just the truth sitting heavy between us.
"Yeah." He squeezes my shoulder once, the gesture meant to comfort me. "Look, just... check in before working the horses. For now. Ok?"
The fact that Chace—easy-going, rule-bending Chace—is asking me this tells me everything.
I watch Eli disappear beyond the barn, a new understanding settling heavy and unwelcome in my chest.
The ranch is in trouble. Real trouble. Eli's been carrying all of it—the weight of keeping this place running, keeping Mae safe, keeping everything from falling apart—while I've been gone.
Nothing here is as simple as I hoped.
And I have a feeling it's about to get worse.
Chapter four
Hazel
We work through the afternoon—fence lines, feed bins, the endless small repairs that keep a ranch running. Chace moves alongside me with easy commentary, never pushing when I go quiet.
It comes back faster than I expect, my body remembering rhythms my mind had tried to forget.
The south fence line is worse up close. Posts lean at tired angles, their bases chewed away by weather and time. Boards have been patched and re-patched, newer wood bolted onto older grain in a way that holds for now but won't forever. I kneel in the dirt and run my hand along a cracked rail, feel where it bows under pressure.
"I knew it was rough," I say quietly. "I just didn't realizehow much."
Chace shrugs, driving a post deeper with a practiced swing. "Hard to keep up when it's just one person trying to do everything."
He doesn't need to say my dad's name.
We work in companionable silence, replacing what we can, reinforcing the rest. Not enough to fix the problem, but enough to keep it from getting worse.
I watch Chace lift another post, the way he shifts his grip to favor his good shoulder.
"I should've called," I say. "After your accident. Shae told me and I just... didn't."
He pauses, then shrugs. "You were busy being a fancy city girl. Couldn't risk associating with a washed-up cowboy."
"Chace—"
"I'm kidding." He grins, eyes mischievous. "Water under the bridge, Haze."
"Still. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well." He drives the post deeper with a decisive hit. "You're here now. That counts for something."
The moment settles between us, and just like that, we’re good.
"Boarders used to be full, right?" I ask.
Chace leans against the rail, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. "Back when your dad was training full-time. Folks want someone active, someone competing." His mouth tips into a rueful smile. "Hard to keep business without it."
