“Anthony?” I guess.
She nods. A single tear tracks through the rain on her cheek. “He cornered me the day I left. We had a huge fight. He told me he was selling the ranch.”
“He mentioned that to me once,” I say quietly. “Said he was tired.”
“He wasn’t tired,” she says, her voice gaining strength, turning hard. “He was punishing me. He told me he had found buyers for the land. But first... first he had a different plan for me.”
“What plan?”
She laughs, an angry, broken sound. “The Henderson twins. Do you remember them? Those old fossils?”
I remember them. Two portly Alphas with greasy hands and wandering eyes. They used to come around and leer at the waitresses at The Salt Lick.
“They wanted a wife,” she says. “An Omega to take care of their house and raise their brat kids. My grandfather agreed. He told me I was going to marry them. He told me I was useless on the ranch, that I’d run it into the ground, and this was the only way I could contribute. By selling myself.”
Disgust rises in my throat, bitter and hot.
“He tried to sell you,” I say.
“He tried to trade me,” she corrects. “Like a broodmare. So I left. I packed a bag and I drove away because the alternative was letting him own me.”
I stare at her. I remember that day. I remember watching her truck disappear down the road. I remember the anger I felt. I thought she was abandoning him. I thought she was turning her back on her legacy.
All this time, she was running for her life.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. The question comes out rougher than I intend.
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “When, Boone? When was I supposed to tell you? When you were busy ignoring me? When you were busy looking at me like I was a child who didn’t know right from wrong?”
“I didn’t look at you like that,” I say.
“You did!” she shouts, stepping forward, invading my space. “You always did! You still do! You think I’m some spoiled city girl who doesn’t understand the value of this place. You think I’m fragile. You think I’m stupid.”
I look down at her. She’s trembling with rage.
“Is that what you think was happening?” I ask. “That I didn’t respect you?”
“I think you pitied me,” she says. “And I hate it.”
The air between us crackles. The rain pours down outside our little shelter, but it feels hot in here.
“We should head back,” she says, turning away. “This was a mistake.”
I don’t let her go.
I reach out and grab her arm. I tug her back, spinning her around. I step forward, crowding her. I walk her backward until her back hits the rough trunk of the oak tree.
I pin her there with my hips, trapping her against the wood.
“Boone,” she gasps, her hands coming up to my chest.
I don’t move. I loom over her, staring down into her wide eyes.
“Is that what this whole thing is about?” I ask. “Wanting to sell the ranch? Wanting to kick us out? Is this your way of punishing me?”
“Punishing you?” she breathes.
“For what you think were unrequited feelings,” I say. “You think I rejected you eight years ago. You think I didn’t want you. So now you’re going to take the one thing I love. The one place I belong. You’re going to destroy it just to hurt me back.”
