And that right there?
That’s the problem.
Because I didn’t build Jersey Iron Ranch to get tangled up in the past.
I built it to move forward.
To build something real.
Something that can’t be taken away. Something that doesn’t lie.
But even now—even with everything I’ve got going for me—I can’t shake it.
I’m not finished with Esme.
Not yet.
Even if that makes me a damn fool.
Because the truth is, I don’t want to believe it.
Don’t want to picture her in Paul’s arms, giving him what was supposed to be mine.
Don’t want to believe she threw us away like it meant nothing.
I huff out a dark laugh, scrubbing a hand over my jaw.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s a dangerous thought right there.”
And dangerous thoughts?
They get men killed.
So I do what I’ve always done.
I shove it down. Lock it up tight.
Focus on the work. On the ranch. On the future.
Because the past?
The past is dead.
Just like Paul.
Just like whatever I had with her.
Right?
The word hangs there, heavy and wrong.
I stare out over the land as the light fades, shadows stretching long across the pasture—and that’s when I see it.
A plume of dust rising off the access road.
My eyes narrow.
That road leads past Sawyer’s place. Nobody comes out here without a reason.
