Chapter 22
JUNE
A Few Minutes Later
The phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, my mother’s name flashes across the screen.
I hesitate. Part of me wants to let it go to voicemail, as I’m still raw from everything that’s happened, still processing the whirlwind my life has become. But guilt wins out over self-preservation.
“Hey, Mom.”
“June, sweetheart!” Her voice is warm, bright, achingly familiar. “How are you? I’ve missed you so much.”
Something in my chest loosens. Despite everything, I’ve missed her too. “I’m okay. Busy with the rodeo.”
“Oh, that’s right—the big event. How’s it going?”
“Good. Lots of stuff going on, but the good kind. How’s Dad?”
“He’s fine. Working too hard, as always.” A pause. “Actually, sweetie, that’s part of why I’m calling. We have some news.”
The tone of her voice shifts, just slightly, but I catch it. My stomach tightens.
“What kind?”
“Well, we found a potential buyer. Someone who’s ready to make a deal for Sweetwater Creek Realty.”
I knew this was coming, but hearing it stated so plainly still feels like a punch to the gut.
“Okay,” I manage.
“The thing is, June…” Another pause, longer this time. “They want the business and the house. It’s a package deal. And it’s such a good offer, better than we expected, honestly.”
The world tilts.
“Wait.” My voice comes out strangled. “The house too?”
“I know it’s a lot to take in—”
“Mom, do I mean nothing to you?”
“June, that’s not fair. You know we love you.”
“Then how can you sell my home out from under me?” I’m shaking now, my free hand clenched into a fist at my side. “I thought, when you moved to Dallas, that you were giving me the house. That was the plan. That’s what we discussed.”
“Plans change, sweetheart. We’re in a difficult situation, and this deal solves everything. You can move to Dallas with us and start fresh. All your ties to that small town would be cut, and we’d help you build something new. You wouldn’t be alone.”
“You know I don’t want to move to Dallas!” The words burst out, and a few people nearby glance in my direction. I turn away, lowering my voice.
“The business will belong to someone else soon. You have to let it go.”
“That’s not—” I press my fingers to my temple, trying to think through the panic. “Can’t you just sell the business? Keep the house separate?”
“The buyer wants both. And honestly, June, the house is worth more than the business at this point. We need both sales to cover all the debts.”
“So I’m homeless,” I say flatly. “That’s what you’re telling me. I’m losing my business and my home in one fell swoop.”
“You’re not homeless. You’ll come live with us—”
“I want to stay here, in the town I love, running the business I’ve poured my heart into for years.”
My mother sighs heavily. “June, please don’t be angry with us. We’re doing the best we can with an impossible situation. If your father and I end up on the street, we can’t help anyone.”
“Then move back here.” I’m grasping at straws and I know it. “Both of you. Live in the house, help me run the business. We could make it work.”
“We’ve outgrown that town, sweetie. And moving back doesn’t solve the debt problem. We’d still owe the money, and soon.”
I’m silent, tears pricking at my eyes. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve built. Gone.
“Who’s the buyer?” I ask, keeping my voice level through sheer force of will.
“What?”
“Who’s buying the business and the house?” My throat tightens. I swallow hard, like I can push the panic back down if I do it fast enough. “Do I at least get to know that?”
There’s a small pause on the line. I blink hard, staring at the dirt by my sneakers, willing the sting behind my eyes to behave.
“A local man,” she says finally as if she’s trying to remember who it is. “Holden Pierce. And he works for the town committee.”
The world stops.
Holden.
Fuck.
The sound in my ears goes hollow, like the arena noise has been turned down to nothing.
Holden Pierce, the financial director with his too-clean spreadsheets and his polite little questions in meetings.
I see him so clearly it makes me sick. The way he’d linger after committee sessions, hands shoved in his pockets, asking me how Sweetwater Creek Realty was doing.
Whether business stayed lucrative through winter.
If I was managing all the listings on my own.
I always laughed it off. Thought he was awkward and trying to be friendly in that stiff, numbers-guy way.
And now he’s buying my home, my business, my entire life like it’s a neat little acquisition he can file away and feel proud of.
My jaw locks. Anger flares hot enough to burn the tears right back for a second.
What the hell does he need it for? And where did he get the money?
The last time I saw Holden, he was still renting that sad little place at the edge of town, still showing up to meetings with coffee stains on his sleeve like he couldn’t even keep himself together. This doesn’t make sense.
“June?” my mom says, sharper now. “Sweetheart, are you still there?”
I open my mouth, and nothing comes out except a breath that sounds wrong. My ribs start to hurt, like my body is trying to hold everything inside and it’s failing.
“I have to go,” I manage, and my voice cracks on the last word.
“June—”
“I’ll call you later.” I don’t even wait for her answer. I stab the screen and end the call before she can hear me break.
For one second, I just stand here, phone clutched in my hand so tightly my knuckles ache. I tell myself not to cry here. Not now. Not in front of anyone. I’ve held it together for years, so I can hold it together for five more minutes.
Then my throat collapses around a sound I can’t stop, and the tears come anyway, hot and fast, spilling down my face like my body has finally decided it doesn’t care what I want. My chest heaves, my vision blurs, and the sobs punch out of me hard enough to make me fold at the waist.
I’m crying in earnest now, ugly and uncontrollable, like something inside me has cracked clean through at the fact that everything I’ve worked for is gone, that the one place I called home, taken.
“June,” a faint male voice calls.
I frantically wipe my face.
Strong hands catch my shoulders.
I look up through the wet haze and find Seth’s face. The second he sees my tears, something changes in him, the concern sharpening into something darker, harder. The kind of expression that belongs on a man who breaks things for a living and doesn’t lose sleep over it.
“What happened?” His voice drops, tight and urgent. “Who did this? Give me a name and I’ll take care of it.”
I try to answer. I do. But the words won’t form around the sobs. All I can manage is a broken shake of my head before I crumple forward into his chest like my body has given up trying to keep me standing.
He doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around me, and he lifts me clean off the ground like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his broad chest. I clutch at his shirt, shaking, and he starts walking, long, purposeful strides pulling us away from the arena like he’s moving me out of danger.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair, voice rough and steady. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”
I bury my face in his neck and let myself fall apart.
When I finally surface, blinking against the sunlight, we’re in the parking area. He’s approaching Carter’s red pickup truck, fishing keys from his pocket.
“You have Carter’s keys?” My voice is hoarse, wrecked.
“We all have keys to each other’s vehicles.” He unlocks the door and sets me gently on the passenger seat, then stands in front of me, hands on my knees. “I don’t have my own car. I usually drive the livestock trucks between towns, so I share with Carter and Kai.”
I nod, wiping my face with the back of my hand. I must look like a disaster.
“Talk to me,” Seth says quietly. “Seeing you cry is shredding my heart.”
So I tell him. All of it. My mother’s call, the sale, the house, the devastating realization that Holden, of all people, is buying it.
“And my parents are selling it all because they’re desperate for money. But where the hell did Holden get so much money from?”
Seth’s expression turns cold. “That motherfucker,” he murmurs under his breath.
“So I’m homeless,” I whisper, and it comes out thin and ugly, like the word has teeth. “I’m a nobody. A loser without a business or a place to live, and if you guys don’t want—”
“Hush.” Seth’s hands tighten on my knees, firm and steady, like he can physically stop the spiral if he holds me in place. His eyes burn into mine. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
I swallow hard, throat raw. My chest keeps doing that awful collapsing thing as if my body is trying to fold in on itself. I hate that I’m shaking and that everything I built can be taken with a phone call and a signature I never saw.
“You have us,” he says, slower now, like he’s making sure every word lands. “You’re pack. Wherever we are, that’s your home. Do you understand?”
“Seth…” My voice wobbles on his name.
“I mean it, June.” His jaw flexes. “This changes nothing except the logistics. You’re ours, and we take care of what’s ours.”
The tears slide down my face again, but they don’t feel like the earlier ones. Those were from panic. These are from relief so intense it hurts.
I blink fast, trying not to fall apart again. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
Seth’s expression shifts, softer around the edges but no less serious. “Darlin’, you don’t get to decide you’re a burden. Not to me.”
I let out a shaky laugh that turns into a sob halfway through. It’s humiliating and honest. I wipe at my face with the heel of my hand and fail to stop the tears anyway.
He exhales. “I think what we need is some time away. Right now.”
“You have the rodeo,” I manage, because my brain is still clinging to responsibilities like they’re life rafts. “You can’t just—”