I nod slowly.
“Was that before or after you changed the piping from our water source?”
His eyes widen with realization.
I guess he hasn’t been deep in town gossip because everyone else already seemed to know about our piping issue.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You come on my property again, and everything you’ve built will collapse so fast you won’t even know what hit you.”
I step back, and he stares at me.
Something flickers across his face—not fear. Not yet. Doubt.
I turn and head back to my truck. “Have a good night, Fred,” I yell over my shoulder as I climb inside and pull off his property.
After I’ve put a safe distance between his place and the road, I take my phone out and call Tommy.
“Gage, I sure hope you didn’t go down there,” he says, and I sigh.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t hit him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I reply, shifting my phone against my shoulder. “But I did get him to give himself away.”
“About what?” he asks.
“The fence. The piping. And I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with the break-in too,” I say. Tommy sighs on the other line, cursing under his breath. "Horizon put him up to it,” I added.
“You playin’ cop now, Gage?” he asks.
I scoff quietly. “Just a hunch.”
He pauses. “It’s a damn good one.” Then quieter, “All right. I’m heading out there now. I’ll keep you posted,” he says before hanging up.
I place my phone in the center console, intending to head back to the ranch—but I’m not ready.
If Sloane is there, I need to work through my feelings and where I stand about all of this. If she sold the land, I don't know if I can forgive her.
And if I don't say something now, I might lose the chance altogether.
I turn the truck away from the house and head toward the back part of the property. Along the path where I took her not long ago, past the mesquite tree, a river winds just beyond the edge of the forest.
The old water main sits past the trees, hidden unless you know where to look. Another way in. Another thing she noticed that I never did.
Inside the trees, it’s quiet, the water slipping past in a steady, patient flow. Along the riverbed lie wildflowers—recently planted by Sloane.
They shouldn’t survive here. But she made them anyway.
She always seems to find a way.
I sit on the cool dirt and draw in a slow breath. It hits me then—how much of this place exists now because of her.
The opening through the mesquite tree, the farm, the fields that catch the best morning light. The quiet creek I didn’t even acknowledge.
I never would've seen it the way it deserves to be seen.
Sure, I always knew the land was special. But it isn’t special without someone who understands it—who cares enough to fight for it.
And I was too damn afraid to admit that meant she’d changed me, too.
The thought tightens in my chest.
