Chapter 25 Chaos
Chaos
Willa wiggles behind me on my bike. Her fingers move from my thighs to my sides, roaming freely on the three-day road trip to Texas. I love having her hands on me, even if the ride is hell on my body after a while.
My arms ache. My hands are numb from the vibrations. My thighs are sore from riding.
Still, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than on the open road with my girl riding on the back of my bike.
She might not realize what it means for me to put her there, but that’s where she belongs now.
All I need is to convince her to add my property patch to her leather jacket, and I’ll die happy.
It’s a damn good feeling. Just me and her.
Until we pass the worn sign that marks my hometown’s border.
Lanceleaf Valley
Population 10,378
The town was named after the yellow flowers that dot the edges of Main Street. They paint a pretty picture for a place with more bad memories than good. This town is too small. Too quiet. It’s no wonder I got into so much trouble growing up.
Until Willa and her family moved here in high school, there wasn’t anything worth my time in Lanceleaf Valley, Texas.
We ride through downtown, and the storefronts all look the same.
A few have been refreshed and a few businesses sold, but most are still here.
Ransack is the busiest parking lot on the street.
Willa was best friends with the owner’s daughter, so on weekends, Tony would let us hang out and sing karaoke or dance during the day.
He wouldn’t serve us drinks, but I snuck a few from behind the bar without him catching me. It was a decent time.
A couple of familiar places have closed. Weather-worn signs hang over empty shops.
So much has stayed the same, and yet, there’s so much that’s different.
Still, Lanceleaf is home.
Vegas might be where I put down my roots, but with Willa’s arms banded around my waist, there’s no denying that this is the town that made me who I am.
We ride through, not stopping. Downtown fades at a distance as I continue on the long stretch that leads to all the ranches. Willa’s grip tightens when we pass the Elliott Ranch sign, but I keep going. We’ll deal with her father another day. It’s already getting late, and I know she’s tired.
I considered staying at the motel in town and putting off this conversation with Kincaid until tomorrow but decided against it.
He needs to know I’m here and that I’m not backing down.
As of right now, the ranch is as much mine as it is his.
If we’re staying anywhere, it’s going to be in one of the many bunkhouses or cabins on my family’s land.
My hand finds the back of Willa’s, as I try to calm her. Or maybe I’m trying to calm myself. The thought of coming face-to-face with my brother after twelve years has me on edge.
The Ironside Ridge sign has been redone recently, but it still looks just as I remember, with bull horns on either side.
I recall hanging a new one with my grandfather after a brutal winter storm fifteen years ago.
We got the worst winds I’d ever seen. The barn took a beating, and the sign that had been around since Grandpa bought this land broke off the old wood posts.
It took weeks to put everything back together, but we did it through hard work and sweat. That’s how things are around here, which isn’t much different from the clubhouse.
As I pull down the road, I take in the barns, the outbuildings, the fences, and finally Grandpa’s house. I’m relieved to see some of that patchwork still there. Generations laying their hands on it. Tending to it. Taking it apart and rebuilding it.
Kincaid used to believe in that as much as I did. With me gone and Tate in his head, that’s clearly changed.
My grip on the handlebars tightens, irritation strumming through me.
The moment we pull up to the front of the house, Kincaid steps out. I haven’t seen my brother in over a decade, and I hate that his face still reminds me too much of Mom. It’s only gotten stronger the more he’s grown into himself.
But other than that, he’s no longer the cocky kid I used to pull pranks on. He’s practically a stranger, wearing a brand-new cowboy hat and perfectly polished boots. It’s like he doesn’t even work the land anymore. With all the new machinery and people coming and going, he probably doesn’t.
Kincaid leans against the railing as I pull to a stop, watching me closely as I help Willa off the bike and take her helmet.
She’s yet to look at him. Her lower lip is red from where she’s been nibbling on it.
I tilt her chin up, forcing those stormy-gray eyes to me. “I’ve got you.”
She nods, swallowing hard. Her fingers lace through mine as we walk toward the house.
“Look whose back.” Kincaid smirks, lifting off the railing. He slowly makes his way down the steps, pausing at the bottom. “Willa.”
“Kincaid.” She juts her chin up.
On the outside, she’s all strength and defiance, but her palm is sweaty as she presses closer to me.
“I see my brother didn’t kick you to the curb when you showed up in Vegas. Interesting.” His smile grows as he looks at me. “You having fun with my sloppy seconds?”
The angry beast I’ve had on a leash the past twelve years uncoils. I reach for my gun, pressing the barrel to the center of my brother’s forehead.
“You talk about her like that again, and I’ll repaint the front door with your fucking brain matter.”
Kincaid’s smile falters the slightest, but I don’t flinch. I stare him in the eyes to make sure he knows I mean it. After all the shit he’s put her through, he’s not going to shame her.
We all have a past. Everyone does shit they’re not proud of. He doesn’t get to judge her for it.
“Sorry, sorry.” Kincaid chuckles. “Bad joke.”
We both know he wasn’t joking, and that’s his mistake.
He still thinks of me as the version of myself back when I lived here.
A little reckless, but harmless, nonetheless.
I’m not that person anymore. Blood or not, if he fucks with Willa, I will plant a bullet in his head.
He’s going to regret forcing me to come back.
I lower the gun, and Willa rests her hand on my arm, rubbing it like she’s trying to soothe me.
The door to the house swings open again, and my spine stiffens as my stepdad walks out. His hair is fully gray now, and the sun has worn lines into his face. He’s just as smug as his son as he walks over to us.
“Good to see you, Dean,” he lies. “Afraid it’s a bit of a wasted trip. Your little attempts to scare our potential investors failed. Seems we have enough of them fully invested to convince the probate judge it’s in the ranch’s best interests to let them help settle our debts.”
“By selling off Grandpa’s land.”
“Ah, so you heard.” He looks from me to Willa. “We considered mineral rights like Gordon wanted, but then we’d be stuck sorting all that out with him. Better we just cut ties.”
“Because then you don’t have to share as much profit.”
“What’s wrong with that? It’s your money too.” He shrugs. “You’ll get a piece of it whether you deserve it or not.”
“I’m not letting you sell a fucking square foot. That’s not what Grandpa wanted with his land, and you know it.”
“How are you going to stop us?” He takes a step forward, not as tall as I remember, but his eyes are just as mean. “Don’t see your name on the will.”
“Because there isn’t one.” I grit my teeth.
Of all the things my grandfather could have done from his deathbed, unfortunately, he skipped that step. Leaving us in this messy years-long legal battle.
“You’re right. There isn’t one. And now that we’re selling the land, we don’t need her or her daddy, so if you thought showing up with her would give you some leverage, you’re out of luck.”
“She’s not leverage.”
“Whatever you say.” His gaze drops to my gun. “Put it away, Dean. You don’t scare me.”
“You should be scared.” I take a step forward, while Willa hangs back. “You think you know who I am, but you have no idea anymore.”
“What are you going to do? Kill me?” He steps closer.
“No, it would be too easy to put a bullet between your eyes right now—too peaceful. I’m no longer your punching bag, you piece of shit.
You’re mine, and I’m going to enjoy kicking you until you’re begging me for mercy.
I’m not just taking this land. I’m taking your fucking reputation. I’m reaping your soul.”
My stepdad’s teeth clench. Too proud to break my gaze, but he swallows hard. And I’ve seen fear in the eyes of enough men the moment before I kill them to know that’s what I’m looking at.
“You can try.”
“I will.” I step back, throwing my arm around Willa’s shoulders. “You’re going to regret making me come back here to handle this. And you’re going to regret ever involving Willa. I can promise you that.”
“You’re going to have to take that up with Gordon.” Tate tips his head toward the property line that leads to the Elliott Ranch.
“I intend to,” I assure him. “In the meantime, we’re gonna need a bed somewhere far the fuck away from you two.”
“Maybe someone in town will take you in.”
I smirk. “Why would we stay there? This is my land as much as it’s yours.”
“For now.” Kincaid’s eyes narrow.
“It’s fine.” Tate slaps a hand on Kincaid’s shoulder. “The cabin at the eastern edge of the ranch is empty. Dirty and falling apart, but you’ve been living in shitholes with bikers, so it will probably feel like home to you.”
I don’t bother responding to that. He’s trying to get a reaction, and I refuse to give him one. I made my point.
With Willa’s hand in mine, I guide her back to my bike, helping her climb on behind me.
“Try not to scare the animals with that ridiculous thing,” Tate says, condescending as always.
I’m not riding anywhere near the animals, but of course, he had to take a jab at my bike. I flip him off, peeling away and leaving them both in a cloud of dust.
“That went terrible.” Willa’s voice is soft through the speakers in my helmet.
“It went as expected.”
“He has a point.” She wraps her arms tighter. “Even with my father’s investment, he’s not the majority owner. If they’re cutting him out, there’s nothing I can do to help. I’m not good leverage.”
We reach the house at the edge of the property, and I help her off my bike before climbing off myself. But when she moves to walk to the door, I stop her, turning her to face me.
“Do you think that’s why I brought you here? For leverage?”
She shrugs. “I was going to try to talk to my dad to see if I could help.”
“Willa, I don’t want you involved under any circumstances. That’s not why I brought you with me.”
“Then why am I with you?” Her eyebrows scrunch.
I run my finger down the ridge of her nose, soothing her expression. “You’re here because I’ve spent twelve years without you, and I’m not adding another minute to that. Because you’re all that matters to me, even if I lose the ranch. You’re here because I need you.”
“What are you saying, Dean?” She gives me a pretty little smirk. “You want us to be together? Even after me and your brother—”
“We’re not talking about Kincaid. We’re not talking about the past—yours or mine. All we’re talking about is you and me now. And all I want is you.”
“All I want is you.” She tugs my cut, lifting onto her toes to kiss me.
The breeze tickles the back of my neck as Willa wraps her arms up over my shoulders. I lift her up until her ankles hook around my waist.
“That’s all you are, Willa. Mine.” I walk us over to the house, kicking the door open, which rustles up a cloud of dust, but it doesn’t matter because I’ve got her in my arms. “Twelve years wasted. I don’t care about the past or how ugly things get. It’s just you and me now, end of story.”
She smiles against my mouth. “I like the sound of that. Except—”
She cuts off when I drop onto the bed, caging her beneath me. “Except what?”
“If I’m yours, then you’re mine too.” Her nose scrunches. “No one else.”
“Princess, there is no one else. There is only you for me. From here until the end.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” If it were up to me, she’s all there ever would have been.