Chapter 20 Eric
T he sky is heavy, thick gray clouds rolling in like the weight pressing against my chest. Wind tugs at my suit jacket, carrying the damp scent of earth and the faintest trace of Suzy’s leather from the spare keys in my pocket. The air hums with an eerie stillness, like the land itself is mourning with us. Grandpa always said the land reflected the hearts of the people who tended it, and today, it grieves with me.
I grip the urn in my hands, my fingers curling tightly around the cold cylinder. His ashes feel too light, too insubstantial—like they can’t possibly hold the weight of the man he was. He was more than this. More than a handful of dust and memories.
We buried everything that meant something to him in the box beneath the willow tree over the hill, where the horses seek shade during the day—photos, his favorite hat, even Suzy’s spare keys.
Now we gather around that same tree—Grandpa’s favorite spot on the ranch, the place he always said felt closest to heaven. The chairs are mismatched, borrowed from the house and the barn, and the scent of wildflowers mixes with fresh-turned soil. The preacher’s voice carries on the wind as he speaks over the urn in my hands.
But Emma isn’t here.
I swallow hard, ignoring the raw ache in my throat. She should be standing beside me, her hand wrapped in mine. Instead, she’s miles away, recovering in New York, surrounded by people who’ll make sure I’ll never see her again.
I know, I deserve it. Fuck. I deserve worse.
Her brothers made it clear. I’m not welcome. I’m not worthy. And maybe, they’re right. I can still hear Julian’s voice, cold and full of fury, telling me I kept her from her dying father, that I used her for my own gain. He’s wrong. They wanted to keep her away from New York; I just needed her help to save the ranch. But I agreed to their deception because it served my needs.
I want to believe that what we had was real. That everything between us was more than a deal made in desperation. But does it even matter now?
The preacher’s voice drifts in and out, his words blending with the low rustle of wind through the trees. I barely hear him. All I can focus on is the hollow pit in my chest, the echo of Grandpa’s laughter in my head, and the way he used to look at me like I was someone he could be proud of.
I curl my fingers tighter around the urn. The truth is, I failed him. I failed them all.
I should have never used the farm’s money to pay off Huntz.
I should have refused to lie to Emma.
But then, she never would have been here…
I never should have let her go.
My breath catches as I glance at Annabelle. Her eyes are red, her hands balled into fists as she watches the casket lower into the ground. She’s always been strong, but this… This breaks something in her, too. And I can’t do anything to fix it.
The auction was canceled—but not because we paid off our debts—because Grandpa’s estate hasn’t transferred yet. We’re in limbo, clinging to land that could be taken from us any second. The ranch is barely holding on. Just like me.
After the preacher says amen, everyone filters through the garden, laying flowers by the oak tree or placing a hand on my shoulder. One by one, they drift toward their trucks. I stand there, still clutching the urn, staring at the soil.
And then I see her.
Caroline. She invited herself, of course. Because nothing assuages grief like an unannounced snake slithering into your backyard.
Her heels crunch across the gravel path as her lips curl into a smirk that turns my stomach. She shouldn’t be here.
“Eric, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says, her voice thick with manufactured sympathy. She holds an envelope in her perfectly manicured hand. “But we need to talk. I have something you should see.”
I don’t move. I don’t acknowledge her. I just keep my eyes on the ground, jaw clenched so tightly it aches.
“Not now, Caroline.” My voice is low, filled with a warning, but she steps closer.
“Oh, I think now is the perfect time. Unless you want this little problem of ours to become everyone’s problem.”
She lets the edge of a photograph slip free. I know exactly what’s inside. The same goddamn photos she’s been holding over me for years.
“You have no decency,” I mutter, finally turning to glare at her.
“It’s just business, Eric. You know how these things work.”
When I don’t engage, she huffs and stalks off toward the barn—because of course she wouldn’t just leave quietly.
I follow a few minutes later, needing a moment alone with the horses—and maybe to make sure she doesn’t steal anything or light a match.
Inside the barn, the scent of hay and leather grounds me for a moment. I find her near the feed room, arms folded, waiting like some gothic villain.
“This ranch means something to you,” she says. “I could ruin that. You know I could.”
I say nothing.
She steps closer, holding out the envelope again. “One word from me?—”
And that’s when karma steps in.
She doesn’t see the slick spot by the open stall. One step back and—splat.
Her heel skids on the edge of the pitchfork handle, and she tumbles straight into the dunghill behind her with a shriek that echoes off the rafters.
The smell hits before the silence does.
“Eric!” she screeches, arms flailing, half-submerged in the worst pile of shit on the property. “Help me!”
For a moment, I don’t move, just enjoying the sight. Then, I walk over, bend down, and pluck the envelope from where it fell. The top polaroid is already smudged with manure.
I flip through the stack. Her leverage.
I hold them up, meeting her wild eyes. “This ends now.”
Her face pales, panic slicing through her arrogance. “Eric, don’t?—”
I rip them in half. Then again. Then again. I let the pieces fall into the muck where she landed.
She scrambles to her feet, slipping, her dress stained and reeking, her hair tangled like a hay bale gone wrong. But I don’t care. She has no power over me anymore.
I turn, walking out without looking back.
Annabelle stands near the garden gate, watching me with raised brows as I approach.
“You good?” she asks.
“Better than I’ve been in years,” I say honestly.
She nods, but there’s something softer in her gaze now. “Eric, I’m going to New York to see Emma. I’m going to talk to her.”
My heart lurches. “She doesn’t want me there.”
“That’s a lie.”
“She made it clear, Annabelle. And her brothers?—”
“I don’t care about her brothers.” She folds her arms. “I care about her. And you. And the fact that you’re miserable.”
A lump forms in my throat. “You really think she?—”
“I think you need to get your ass on a train and fight for the woman you love. But since you’re not ready to do that, I’m going. I’ll find out how she feels.”
I swallow hard, the ache in my chest deepening. “You’d do that? Talk to her for me?”
She smiles, just a little. “Of course. Maybe hearing from someone else will help.”
Hope flickers, fragile but real.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
She squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll get through this. All of us.”
I nod, though I’m not sure I believe it.
From the barn, I hear Caroline cursing softly, trying to scrape dung off her shoes with a broken rake.
As the last car pulls out, I stay behind, gripping the urn, and walk to the garden one last time. Silence wraps around me.
I kneel, placing a hand against the fresh earth. “I’m sorry, Grandpa,” I whisper. “I’m so damn sorry I couldn’t make things right. I wish you were here. I don’t know what to do without you.”
The wind stirs around me, carrying my words away, and my tears finally spill over. I tried to hold it all together and be strong, but standing here, with everything that mattered to me slipping away, I can’t hold back any longer. The sobs come out in violent bursts, wracking my chest. And I let them, until I have no tears left.
After what feels like hours, I finally rise and wipe my eyes. Derek and Blake wait for me beneath the willow tree, their gazes filled with the kind of understanding only brothers can offer. But even with them at my side, the emptiness is overwhelming.
I walk them to the front gate. The sun has dipped below the horizon, and the last of the light bleeds from the sky. My eyes drift over the land where I’ve lived since birth—but when I turn to my right, my heart sinks.
A sign stands in the front yard.
SOLD
The red letters scream at me, louder than any words ever could. My knees hit the ground.
The ranch. Grandpa’s legacy. My home.
Gone.
I stare at the sign, my vision blurring, the weight of my failure crushing me.
I lost the ranch.
I lost Emma.
And I don’t know how to get any of it back.
The ranch stretches out before me, silent and unforgiving, like a graveyard of dreams. As the wind howls through, it carries a single thought: I have nothing left to lose, but maybe, just maybe, I have something to fight for.