He keeps the money flowing. Keeps our names in rooms we’d never otherwise step foot in. He plays the long game—investments, endorsements, appearances—all while riding bulls that could kill him if they got the chance. He’s reckless with his body, so the rest of us can be steady with our lives. It may be a sport he loves, but it’s one that’s always come at a cost. Which is why I’m glad Abigail finally gave him a chance to take a step back.
And Beau—
My jaw tightens a fraction at the thought of him.
Beau doesn’t just fill gaps. He becomes them. He knows what needs doing before anyone says it. Knows the land like he’s the one who was born on it. Not me. He knows the animals like they speak a language only he understands, and he tends to them as if they were a part of him. He’s the kind of man who doesn’t need credit to give everything he has.
He just gives because it’s who he is.
We’re not just partners.
The four of us… We’re a system.
The perfect team.
Because somehow, against every odd stacked against us, we work.
I sign another page, then pause, pen hovering, as last night flashes back before my eyes.
The front door opening. Beau stepping inside with Abigail tucked against his chest, her bare legs draped over his arms, and his shirt hanging loose on her frame, looking more perfect on her than any expensive gown ever could.
She looked… brighter.
Not healed. Not untouched by what she’d been through. Butlighter. Like something heavy had finally loosened its grip.
I hadn’t missed the flush in her cheeks, or the way her fingers curled around Beau’s arm, or the way that he held her. Not possessive or showy, but like she was a part of him.
I knew what they had done the moment I spotted them.
It was obvious.
And not once did I feel that sharp edge of jealousy that one might assume I’d feel. No. All I felt was relief spreading through my chest like a slow, steady warmth.
Because she needed that.
Beau did too.
Because she deserves to be loved when she asks for it. To be held. To be chosen without question over and over again.
Isn’t that the point of all of this anyway?
The four of uslovingher.
I set the pen down and exhale slowly through my nose. “I love her,” I say into the empty room. Even though it’s the first time I’ve said it out loud, the words don’t sound strange. They don’t feel dramatic or ill-timed. They just feel… right.
I never meant for this to happen.
I’d built my life around certainty. Around responsibility. The ranch, my family, the land beneath my boots. I thought that was enough. I thought it’dalwaysbe enough. It had to be.
I was content being what everyone else needed. Being steady.
Reliable.
Unshakable.
Love was messy.
Love was a liability.
