Page 134 of Branded Betrayal

“I really want you to meet my brother. It’s just him, so probably a lot less pressure,” I say. “And maybe we can do both. Visit your family for some of the holiday break and have my brother come up here for the rest.”

“Sounds great,” Luke says.

“Perfect.” I pull out my phone. “I’m going to text him right now to see what he thinks—”

The words die on my lips when I see a text notification from Nash on my phone.

You sure I can’t convince you to come back for Christmas?

It pings again, and a photo opens on my screen. With a shaky finger, I click on the image. It’s a photo of Red Rock, the sun shining over wide-open fields, newly restored buildings lining the perimeter, and livestock grazing in the distance. And in the far right-hand corner, Blaze sits on a horse overlooking it all. Squinting, I can tell that the horse is Starlight. He brought her to Red Rock. My heart clenches, knotting in my throat.

I shove the phone back in my pocket and grab Luke’s hand. “I’m sure he’ll want to come here. It will be great.”

“Because you’re with me,” Luke says. “And being together is the only thing that matters.”

“Right,” I say, trying like hell to keep my voice even.

I grab my mail from my box as we pass through the lobby of my building. Once we get inside, I shrug off my coat, all thoughts of keeping a clear head flying out the window. “How about some wine?”

Luke walks over to the wine rack and looks at the bottles while I grab two glasses. I move the pile of mail out of the way and set them on the counter. A single white envelope floats to the floor, and for the second time tonight, I freeze, my focus on the return address.

The Law Offices of Kent Atwood, Esquire, Whiskey Creek, Wyoming.

My stomach plummets hard. Is there something else I need to handle regarding the will? The sale is done, but maybe there’s final paperwork I need to sign and return.

I grab the envelope off the floor and tear it open. There’s a piece of folded white paper and a short note wrapped around it.

Savannah—

Your aunt left this letter with me before she passed. I’m sorry for the delay, but she instructed me to send it six months after her passing.

—Kent

“Um, babe, I’m going to change real quick, okay?”

I don’t wait for Luke to answer before I dart into my bedroom with the letter clutched tight in my hand.

Unfolding the letter, I sit on the edge of my bed, all air abandoning my lungs, my chest constricted like it’s been lassoed by thick ropes.

My darling Savannah,

If you’re reading this, then I’m gone, and the ranch business is settled. I told Kent not to give you this letter until after you’d made your choice about Red Rock. Whether you kept it or sold it, stayed or left. Because you needed to choose for yourself, not because of a letter from a dead woman.

But now you’ve chosen. And I need to tell you some things.

I bought Red Rock forty years ago when I was about your age. I was running too, from a broken engagement, from dreams with the wrong man that didn’t pan out. I came to Whiskey Creek because it was far from everything that hurt me. I planned to stay a year, maybe two, just long enough to figure out my next move.

But as you know, I met your uncle. And we had such a happy and wonderful life together, all because somewhere along the way, running turned into laying down roots. My temporary plan became a life. The escape became my home, and we were so lucky to have you all surrounding us for the years we spent together at Red Rock.

I decided to leave you the ranch because you remind me of myself at your age. Running. Hurting. Looking for the next place that might feel like home because of all that you lost in your real home.

Sweetie, you can run for the rest of your life. Denver, Seattle, Boston, wherever. You can build careers and relationships and live a perfectly fine life. But running doesn’t heal wounds. It just puts distance between you and the pain.

Red Rock was my gift to you, but it was also my challenge. I hope you learn to put down those roots. When things get hard, and they will, don’t be tempted to run. Face the problems. Fight for the solutions. Build something that matters.

I hope you chose to keep Red Rock. But maybe you didn’t because you couldn’t make it work financially, because something drove you away, or because you just decided it wasn’t for you. Any of those reasons are valid. You’re allowed to choose differently than I did.

But I’m asking you to be honest with yourself. If you left Whiskey Creek again, is it because you are running from something or toward something? Because there’s a difference.