I just hope I can do this.
twenty-four
Gage
Watching Sloane leave again is devastating. I keep telling myself I need to stop putting myself through this kind of pain, but a part of me still believes I deserve it.
I'm certain it’s stupid, but when you’ve been stomped on most of your life, you start to believe that people leaving you aren’t the exception—it’s just par for the course.
Now, I know Sloane hasn’t fully left. She’s contractually obligated to come back to the ranch, but that doesn’t change the sour taste in my mouth knowing that in a few short weeks, that obligation disappears.
The next time she walks away, it’ll be for good—and I’ll have no one to blame but myself.
It wasn’t that her idea was a bad one. Hell, it was something I’d been circling myself for a while now. After she discovered the pipe—and after I finally started to truly listen to her—I began wondering if having her as a permanent owner would really be a bad thing at all.
She already runs the place far better than either Uncle Sam or I ever did. Time and time again, she’s proven that she knows exactly what she’s doing, and if not for her, I’d never have known about any of the shit Horizon was pulling—or Fred.
If anyone deserves this ranch, it’s her.
I just didn’t want to see it—didn’t expect to admit it out loud.
My trust is still unstable, but it has nothing to do with her. The truth is, I’m afraid of what happens if I let myself choose happiness. The moment I drop my guard feels like the moment everything could fall apart again.
But Sloane isn’t Marlene. Not even close.
Marlene never did anything remotely close to what Sloane has done for this place. She ran the books—badly—and skimmed from the top, but she never cared about what happened here.
She never got her hands dirty, never asked questions, never bothered getting to know the ranch hands while hiding away in the office.
But Sloane did. And she cares—deeply.
It made my decision a little easier when she left for Austin this morning. I knew there was a good chance she was meeting with Horizon at their headquarters to talk about the deal, but I wanted to beat her to it.
She had a longer drive than I did, so when I got into town, I raced straight to Monty’s office, bypassing his assistant and heading inside.
He looks up while on the phone, rolling his eyes. “I'm gonna have to call you back.” He hangs up and holds his hands up. “Hollis, you cannot just barge in like that. I could have had another client in here,” he explains, but I wave him off.
“But you didn’t.”
He looks past me at his assistant before waving her off and motioning me inside. I shut the door behind me and take a seat. “I want to sign a deal.”
He sighs deeply. “I already told you, Gage. Six months is the deal,” he says, and I shake my head.
“Not to buy her out,” I say. “To make her a permanent partner.”
Monty looks visibly stunned, which is expected. I’ve spent most of this time annoying him with phone calls, trying to find a loophole around the six-month clause, andnow I’m telling him I don’t need six months—and I don’t need a loophole.
I just need Sloane.
“Come again?”
“You heard me. If keeping Sloane as part-owner helps get the land out of lien status and protects the ranch indefinitely, then I want her to be part of it. Besides, she already saved everything here. That’s gotta count for something,” I explain, shrugging as he narrows his eyes curiously—and rightfully so.
I’m sure he thinks I’ve gone insane, but he also doesn’t know all we’ve gone through together. All the ups and downs feel worth it if it means it ends with us.
He hums, leaning back in his chair instead of nodding right away. “That’ll do it,” he says finally, studying me like he’s weighing something heavier than paperwork. Then he rolls his chair to the side and sifts through his file cabinet.
“Honestly, your uncle was hoping for this outcome,” he adds, pulling a pre-drawn contract from the file like he’s been waiting years to use it.
