Ryder picked up the buckle. He weighed it in his hand.
It felt... light. Surprisingly, disappointingly light. For six years, this object had been the center of gravity of his entire universe. Now, it just felt like a piece of cheap metal.
He put it in the bag.
He picked up the plastic bull.
He ran his thumb over the broken horn. He remembered Leo’s voice.I'm scared.You're the boss.
If he stayed, what would he offer the boy? A father with a limp? A father who worked a minimum-wage job at the feed store because he couldn't ranch and couldn't ride? A father who was always looking at the horizon, wonderingwhat if?
Elena was right. He was chaos. He was a storm. And storms destroyed the things they touched.
I'm not leaving to chase the glory,he told himself, the lie tasting like ash.I'm leaving to save them from me. She said I'm dangerous. So I'll remove the danger.
It was a noble, twisted logic. It was the logic of a man who didn't know how to stay, so he framed his leaving as a mercy.
He put the plastic bull in his pocket. He couldn't leave it. It was the only piece of his son he was allowed to keep.
He zipped the bag shut.
He stood up. He grabbed his crutches.
He looked at the bed. He looked at the water stain on the ceiling.
"Goodbye," he whispered to the room.
He didn't leave a note. Cowboys didn't leave notes. They just left dust.
IV. The Zero Point
Dawn was breaking when Ryder walked out onto the porch.
It wasn't a clean sunrise. The sky was a bruised, angry purple, heavy with low-hanging clouds that scraped the tops of the mountains. The air was thick, charged with static. The wind had died, replaced by an eerie, waiting stillness.
Stone Creek weather,Ryder thought.Storm's coming.
He didn't care. He wouldn't be here for it.
He threw his gear bag into the bed of Cole’s truck. He had left the keys to the truck on the kitchen table with a note:Taking the truck to the bus station. Keys will be under the mat.
He climbed into the driver's seat. He adjusted the seat to accommodate his cast.
He looked at the farmhouse.
The windows were dark. Cole and Maya were asleep upstairs, dreaming of their cabins and their cows.
He looked toward town. Toward the white bungalow with the leaking sink.
He imagined Elena sleeping. He imagined Leo curled up with his stuffed animals.
You lose the right to know him.
The words echoed in his head, sharp as broken glass.
Ryder gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white.
"I'm sorry, Leo," he whispered. "I'm just a pirate. Pirates don't stay."
