Guilt consumes me yet again. “Got in the way of a bullet.”
I expect Santos to push, but instead, he changes directions, surprising me. “Why does she have a ranch if she doesn’t know how to run it?”
Annoyed by the line of questioning, I reveal myself from the shadows, crossing my arms over my chest. “I didn’t want it. My brother took everything from me, and this is what’s left.”
Santos faces me, the smirk I’m quickly realizing is more of a mask than anything on his face. “Must be hard.”
FIVE
VALENTINA
September 12th, 2025
“Don’tyou find it strange he just popped up?” The vein in McCrae’s neck bulges as he asks the question.
I cock my hip in challenge. “Jealous, McCrae?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” he bites out, but it’s clear he’s lying. “I’ve nothing to be jealous of. You can do whatever you want, whomever you want. I’m just looking out for your safety. That’s all.”
It’s always the same with him.Always so indifferent.I turn away, hiding the frown I can’t keep from crawling over my face. I just want to be enough—for him, for anyone.
“He’s just here to work.” I huff, pulling a beer out of the fridge. I don’t even like beer, but I’ll drink anything to lessen the sting.
“Just be careful around him.”
I bristle. “I can take care of myself.”
McCrae’s sighs, clearly exasperated by my attitude.What’s new?“We likely need more help than justMr. Good With His Hands. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
I nod, already knowing where this is going. “What about Faith?” I want her to like me; for what reason, I still don’t know. But I’m also afraid—I don’t miss McCrae’s smile at her name.
“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea.” He’s nonchalant, but I know, beneath the surface, there’s more. There always is with McCrae. He just keeps those parts hidden from me. McCrae begins walking toward his room, done with the conversation.
“Do you need anything to eat?” I offer softly, desperate to keep him near.
He shakes his head. “I’m gonna shower and then see if I even feel like eating.”
“Do you need help?” I try to add a teasing note to my voice—make the question sound less desperate than I really am—but McCrae doesn’t even acknowledge me as he walks out of sight. I’m left feeling rejected and alone.Again.
“I’d never say no.”
I whirl on Santos, shooting him a smirk that’s far too forced. “In your dreams.”
“Promise?” It’s a strange thing to say, seeming to surprise us both. Santos shrugs it off, though.
“What do you need?” McCrae grumbles, and I inwardly dance. He’s standing in the hallway, between the kitchen and the safety of his room. It’s clear he doesn’t want to leave me alone with Santos but doesn’t want to be here either.
“Can someone show me the bunkhouse? I’m ready to hit the hay.”
I snort. “I’ll take you.”
He smirks down at me, nodding slightly.
“No, I’ll take him.” McCrae stomps toward the front door, but I beat him there.
“I got it. Go take your shower.” I shoo him away with a wink. His face reddens slightly, his irritation no longer hidden.
He glares at us for several moments before reluctantly retreating into the shadows. I face Santos, the fight deflating from my chest almost instantly.
