The six-month clause looms—the agreement that started all of this, now burning down to its final weeks.
Soon, it’ll be over. No deal. No obligation. No reason for her to stay—unless she chooses to.
The realization lands hard, sharp enough to steal my breath.
I want to say yes. I want to say yes to her, to the partnership, to everything she offered. But the fear sits heavy, stubborn, and familiar.
I stand, dusting my hands on my jeans, and head back to the truck. I can’t put this off any longer.
When I pull into the drive, I see her sitting on the steps with Bullet.
Waiting.
She stands immediately when she spots me, and I realize she’s been waiting. I wish she hadn’t been. I don’t know what to say to her—or if I even want to hear what she has to say.
A thought hits hard and ugly: I don’t think I can deal with knowing she sold her pieces to that place.
I sigh deeply, then step out of the truck. I walk around it while she stands there awkwardly, Bullet shifting at her feet like he can feel the tension hanging between us.
“I heard you found out who was screwing with the fence,” she says, and I nod distantly, pointing back in Fred’s direction.
“Yeah. He’s a contractor in town,” I say. “He also put in the water main and the new system for Uncle Sam. He confessed to changing the piping, so I’ve got Tommy heading down there now to take care of it,” I tell her. She lets out a deep breath, her shoulders loosening as she smiles softly.
“Good,” she says quietly. “I’m glad.”
I nod, sighing again as I shift my weight, the last of the adrenaline bleeding off.
“I wanted to hit him,” I admit, meeting her eyes, my mouth quirking despite myself. “I was pissed, and I wanted him to feel it. The old me wouldn’t have stopped.”
“The old you?” she asks quietly.
“The me before you,” I clarify as she draws in a breath, her chest rising like she’s bracing for impact. “I’m still angry,” I continue, surprised by how steady my voice sounds, “but I trust myself more now. I trust that I won’t ruin everything just because I’m hurting.”
They aren’t the words I expected myself to say—especially not out loud—but they’re the truth.
The constant push is exhausting. Sloane was always right about that. I feel it in my bones now, the tension worn thin, but I’m not ready to admit everything I want yet—not with the ranch still hanging in the balance and every decision feeling like it could tip us one way or another.
“I didn’t sell.”
The words land between us, heavy and final. My chest tightens as I wait for her to continue.
“I had the offer in my hand,” she says. “It was lucrative enough that I’d be set for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t sign.” She shakes her head slowly, like she’s still sorting through it herself.
“Why not?” I ask quietly.
“Because I’m not vindictive, Gage.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to be the reason you end up with nothing. Just because this thing between us might look like a fleeting romance doesn’t mean I’d ever turn my back on you—or the legacy your family built.”
Her voice firms.
“This isn’t just about you. It’s Hank, Mason, Jesse—even Bullet. Their home is here. I want you all to keep living the life you choose, in the place you love.”
My heart warms—and breaks—at the same time.
What we had never felt fleeting. It felt real. It still does. But letting someone all the way in is terrifying.
The last time I tore my walls down, I nearly lost this place. I did it again and almost lost everything—and even if none of that was truly her fault, the ranch still sat in her hands.
“I found a solution,” she says. “One where we clear the liens and keep the ranch with the rightful owners.”
