Page 143 of Tessa and Nash

I hold his stare. “I’m asking questions.”

He exhales, controlled. “Questions are fine, Tessa. Doubt is fine. But you need to remember what’s at stake.”

“What’s at stake?” I repeat.

He leans forward. “Our family’s legacy. Our land. Our security. Everything your grandmother built to keep you safe.”

I swallow.

He knows exactly which lever to pull.

“Then help me understand,” I say softly. “Why now? Why push this now?”

Thomas snorts with irritation. “Because the McCoys are expanding.”

“That’s the obvious answer.”

“It’s the only answer.”

“No,” I say quietly. “It’s not.”

Thomas stills. “Excuse me.”

“You’ve hated the McCoys my whole life. I’ve heard the stories. I’ve seen the way you look at them at Founders’ Day, like you’d rather spit than speak. But you’ve never pushed like this before.”

Thomas’s expression tightens. “You were a child.”

“I’m not anymore.”

The silence between us sharpens.

Thomas’s smile returns, small and dangerous. “Be very careful, Tessa.”

I lift my chin. “I am being careful. That’s why I’m asking you.”

He stands slowly. He needs height to feel in control.

“The McCoys can’t be trusted,” he says, each word clipped. “They never could. They never will. Reopening old wounds will only cost the Longs everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes,” he snaps. “Do you think the town will be fair? Do you think they’ll side with us over their golden ranch family? They’ll paint us as greedy. Vindictive. They’ll make us the villains for wanting what’s ours.”

His voice is rising now.

“The McCoys will smile and shrug and say they didn’t know,” he continues. “And Buckhorn will let them keep whatever they’ve taken, because Buckhorn has always protected them.”

My stomach twists.

Because some of that is true.

And some of it is a story he needs to believe to justify what he’s doing.

I take a careful step closer. “What was the agreement, Thomas?”

His eyes flash. “There was no agreement.”

My pulse spikes.