"Shower's been broken for weeks," he says flatly.
Right. Of course it has.
I clear my throat. Try to find the thread of why I came here in the first place.
The list. The plan. The colt. Mae. Cole's offer. The Fall Classic.
Four weeks.
The words come back slowly.
"I know things have been... difficult between us," I say finally. My voice is steadier than I expect. "And I know we have a lot to talk about."
Eli's hands still on the hem of his shirt.
"But right now, I need your help," I continue. "I need us to work together if we're going to save this place."
He doesn't interrupt. Doesn't look away.
Just listens.
"I know it means as much to you as it does to me," I say quietly. "Maybe more."
That lands.
I see it in the way his jaw relaxes, the way something shifts in his expression.
I take a breath and keep going.
"There's a show in four weeks. The Copper Ridge Fall Classic. Trail class or ranch horse division." I meet his eyes. "It won't solve everything overnight. But if we can place well, we use that to start calling Dad's old clients. The Hendersons. The Collins family. A good showing gives us credibility again. Proof we can still train."
He's silent for a long moment.
"Mae's actually considering Cole's offer," I continue. "She's got eight, maybe ten months before things get critical. This buys us time. We train the colt, compete, bring boarders back. Build the program over the next six months. But we have to start now."
"And you’ll be back in Denver by then."
My stomach drops.
Actually, it's sooner than that. "Two weeks," I correct quietly. "My boss gave me three weeks. That was a week ago."
Eli goes still. "So you're already—"
"I'll ask for an extension," I say quickly. "Tell them I need more time. They'll understand."
I hope.
His expression tells me exactly what he thinks about that plan.
"I can make it work," I continue, pushing forward. "Four weeks to get the colt ready, get Addie riding him. We don't even have to win. We just have to show we're producing solid horses again. Then we—"
"And then what?" he cuts in. "You go back to Denver and we hire some stranger to keep it going?"
The question sits between us, sharp and unavoidable.
I don't have a good answer.
"I don't know yet," I admit. The honesty scrapes out of me. "I want to help. I want to save this place. But I don't know if I can just... throw away five years of work. A career I built. A life—"
