My stomach drops.
Those three words carry more than they should. I lower myself into the chair across from her, the leather cold even through my jeans.
Mae takes off her glasses and sets them carefully on top of the ledger. For a long moment, she just looks at me. Not unkind. Just... tired. The kind of tired that lives in your bones and doesn't leave.
"How much is the entry fee?" she asks quietly.
"Eight hundred dollars." I say it like it's nothing. Like it's reasonable. "For both classes—trail and ranch horse."
She nods slowly. Doesn't say anything right away.
The silence stretches.
"Mae—"
"I know this plan matters to you," she says, cutting me off gently. "I know you and Eli have been working hard. I see it. I see you out there every morning before the sun's up, putting in the hours."
"But?"
She exhales, the sound heavy. Then she reaches for the ledger and turns it toward me.
Numbers fill the page in her careful handwriting. Columns of them. Income. Expenses. Red ink in places there shouldn't be.
"We're three months behind on the grain bill," she says. "Vet expenses from last quarter are still unpaid. The fence repair we've been putting off is going to cost more the longer we wait. And the equipment—" She stops. Shakes her head. "It's breaking faster than I can fix it."
I stare at the numbers. They blur slightly.
"I can't justify eight hundred dollars for an entry fee when we're this far underwater, Haze." Her voice cracks just slightly on my name. "I want to. God, I want to. But I don't have it to give."
My throat tightens. "But this is how we save the ranch. This is the plan. We place well, we get attention, boarders come back—"
"I know," she says, and the exhaustion in her voice makes me stop. "I know what it could do. But 'could' doesn't pay the feed bill that's due next week."
I close my eyes.
This can't be happening.
"Cole called again yesterday," Mae says quietly.
My eyes snap open. "What?"
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you. Didn't want to make you feel like—" She stops. Starts again. "He'sbeen patient. Kinder than I expected, actually. But he made it clear the offer won't stay on the table forever."
The room feels smaller suddenly. Too warm.
"How long?" I ask.
"He said he'd give me until end of summer. That's six weeks, Haze."
Six weeks.
My mind races. The Fall Classic is in four weeks. Even if we placed well, even if we got attention, we'd need months to rebuild the client base. Months we don't have.
"There has to be another way," I say, but it comes out weaker than I mean it to.
Mae reaches across the desk and covers my hand with hers. Her skin is warm. Papery. She squeezes gently.
"If you've got another solution, honey, I'm listening."
