Page 64 of Fall or Nothing

“From the moment I stepped foot back here in New York, that’s all I’ve been doing—thinking about what I gave up.”

“But-but what will you do? How will you survive?”

Poor Jackson. After my father’s death, he stepped in, always there for me, always getting me out of difficulties.

I stepped inside the elevator car and looked past him to Hugh, standing all smug there because he had won. To me, he really didn’t. I only hoped that I’d be the winner if Icould get Sage back into my arms and really give Montana a chance.

I placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “All these years you’ve looked after me. I don’t think I once said thanks. So—thank you.” The doors closed on his grin spreading across his face, and that was that.

Down in the lobby, I pulled out the new phone I’d just purchased this morning, the latest model, with all the expensive features. Hell, for the cost of it I should have bought an old flip phone.

I was on a budget now. How slowly could I spend almost a million dollars and make it last in Montana?

My thumb scrolled until I found the number for the Magnus private jet crew, but froze.

The cost of a private flight to Montana was too much now. A quick internet search and I found the cheapest flight leaving today and booked it.

“Need a car, Mr. Magnus?” The doorman asked as I exited the building for the very last time.

“To JFK, thanks.”

While I waited, I inhaled the stale city air. Too much exhaust and sewage, and maybe a hint of fresh bagels from down the street. Yuck and fuck this. I couldn’t get to Montana fast enough, where a man could breathe again.

The entire flight I sat cramped in a seat in the very back row with two mothers and their crying babies beside me. My knee jiggled, eager to get to Sage.

Over and over I rehearsed what to say to her, changed my mind, tried different wording; none of it sounded right. I prayed like hell—while helping each mother entertain their babes with my goofy faces. Cute little things.

I’d be thirty in a month. A good time to leave behind my younger days and try to settle down.

Finally, in Billings, I took a cab to the nearest used car lot. The salesman’s eyes lit up when he saw me coming in my crisp suit and leather shoes.

He tipped his cowboy hat, lifting a boot onto the nearest bumper. “Looking for something sharp, sir? I’ve got a beautiful late-model sedan over here—leather seats, low miles, perfect for the executive lifestyle.”

I glanced at the shiny sedan he was pointing to, then scanned the lot until my eyes landed on an older F-150 that looked like Jake’s, like it could handle Montana winters.

“Appreciate it, but I’ll take that truck instead.” I pointed.

The salesman balked. “The F-150? Sir, that one’s older, higher miles—the sedan would be much more comfortable for a man in your position.”

“I’m not in that position anymore. I need something that can handle dirt roads and snow. How much for the truck?”

He hesitated, then named a price. I countered low, and we went back and forth, haggling for a few minutes.

“Last offer,” I said. “Take it or I'll walk.”

He sighed, then grinned and stuck out his hand. “You drive a hard bargain. She’s yours.”

But this damn crisp shirt, suit pants, and Italian leather shoes…

The car dealer was about my size, wearing Wrangler jeans, a snap denim shirt, shined-up boots, and a cowboy hat. I about shocked him when I offered to pay him for hisoutfit.

“You can’t be serious?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Dead serious. Will you take two-fifty, and I’ll throw in my suit for you?”

He blinked, then grinned. “Deal.”

Within minutes, I’d changed and got behind the wheel of a truck, all mine. Cowboy Carter was back.