Chapter 18
I wake up bright and early. The house is still. But inside me, there's a storm raging. And a plan. I spent most of the night lying awake, staring at the ceiling, my heart breaking repeatedly until I realized I can't stay. Not like this. Not after everything.
I move through the house quietly, careful not to disturb him.
In the kitchen, I sit at the table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, the pale morning light slanting through the windows.
I’m already dressed. My bag is packed. My decision made.
I’m going to go on this trip with Liam, but when we get back?
I’m finding another job. If, for some reason, I don’t, then I’ll go home and stay with my parents until I figure out what in the hell I’m doing.
When Liam finally stumbles in, he looks rough. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair mussed. Knuckles still raw and bruised. Honestly, I hope he feels as bad as he looks.
He freezes when he sees me sitting there so calmly.
“Good morning,” I say, lifting my cup to my lips.
He winces at the sound of my voice, moving stiffly to the coffeepot to pour himself a cup. His hands shake slightly as he grips the mug.
I set my cup down, the soft clink echoing between us.
“I booked our flights to San Angelo,” I say evenly.
He glances at me over his shoulder, wary.
“We leave at eight tomorrow, which means we’ll have to leave here by five.” I shrug. “It was the only direct flight they had.”
He watches me now. Really watches me. Like he’s trying to figure out what’s different. What’s changed.
I slide a piece of paper across the table, the edges trembling just slightly from my hand. He doesn’t reach for it. Doesn’t move.
“This is my two weeks' notice,” I say quietly. “Effective the day we return from Texas.”
The words hang heavy in the air. Liam’s jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle move. But he says nothing. Nothing at all. And somehow that silence hurts worse than any begging or apology could have. Because it tells me everything. Tells me he’s going to let me walk away.
Tells me he’s too afraid—
Or too stubborn—
Or too broken—
To fight for me. To fight for us.
I stand, smoothing my hands down the front of my jeans.
“I’ll be out of your hair before the end of the month,” I say, keeping my voice steady even as my heart crumbles inside my chest.
I pick up my coffee. Turn. And walk away. Again. But this time it’s for good.
We manage to avoid each other for the rest of the day. Easy, really. The house is big enough. Our silences are even bigger.
At five the next morning, I’m waiting in the foyer, already packed, dressed, and ready to go, when he finally emerges. He looks worse than yesterday. Paler. Hollowed out. Like he hasn't slept at all.
I hold out a travel mug of coffee. It’s an olive branch he doesn't deserve, but I offer anyway.
“I’m ready when you are,” I say, my voice soft and even.
He just nods, taking the mug without meeting my eyes. Not a word passes between us as we step outside.
The dawn is still gray, the air cool and damp, and every step I take feels heavier than the last.
I set my bag in the backseat of the truck and climb into the passenger side, closing the door with a soft, final click. My chest tightens painfully. This is the last time I’ll see the house like this. The last time it’ll still feel a little bit like home.
Blinking fast, I pull out my phone and fire off a quick message to Phern, letting her know we’re officially on the road. I reached out to her yesterday and asked if she could look after Sammi while we were gone. She agreed without hesitation. Thank God for her.
At the airport, we move through the motions like strangers. Check-in. Security. Finding our gate. No conversation. No accidental touches. No sideways glances.
Just nothing.
When we find our gate, I don’t sit. I can’t.
Instead, I wander off, ending up at a bench in front of a bathroom Everything about this trip feels wrong.
Liam should be here. Laughing with me. Planning stupid inside jokes for the flight.
Bugging me with t-shirt ideas I won’t approve for the ranch.
But he’s not. He’s a ghost now. A ghost sitting twenty feet away with my heart still clenched in his fist.
I kill time the only way I can think of. I pull up job listings. Start scrolling.
There are more postings than I expect for a ranch manager. Positions in Montana, Kansas, Colorado, Tennessee. One listing in Kansas catches my eye. Close to Wichita. Close to my parents. Close to something that might eventually feel like peace.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I send an inquiry. And two more after that.
By the time I make it back to the gate, boarding has already started. I fall into step behind him, silent as a shadow. Liam doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even look at me.
He keeps his sunglasses on even once we’re seated side-by-side, trapped together in a space too small for all the things we’ll never say.
Fine. Let him pretend to sleep. Let him pretend this doesn’t hurt.
I pull out my tablet, put in my earbuds, and dive into work.
Because if I stop even for a second, I’ll fall apart.
We touch down in San Angelo, Texas under a bright, punishing sun.
Teddy and his wife, Bessie, are waiting for us outside the tiny airport, all smiles and joy.
Liam barely says a word as we climb into their truck.
He and Teddy take the front. Bessie and I sit in the back, tucked between leather seats that smell like dust.
The drive from the airport to their ranch takes nearly an hour, winding through wide-open country.
Bessie, bless her, fills every minute. She tells me about her fifteen kids and thirty grandkids.
How her pecan pie won first place at the state fair three years running.
How she’s learning to crochet, even if her hands "ain’t made for dainty work. "
She asks about my family, her blue eyes soft with curiosity, so I tell her about the sister I lost.
“Cancer’s a terrible thing,” Bessie murmurs, reaching out to pat my hand. “Especially when they’re so young.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“She’s the reason I ended up in Wyoming,” I say, smiling through the ache.
“She dreamed of traveling and fell in love with Sheridan after seeing it on a destination travel show. After she passed, I found a brochure for the college tucked into her things. Figured maybe if I couldn’t live her dream, I could at least live somewhere she loved. ”
Bessie presses her hand to her chest.
“Oh, honey,” she sighs warmly. “That’s beautiful.”
She glances toward the front seat, beaming.
“And that’s how you met Liam,” she says, a dreamy sigh in her voice. “How romantic.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from glaring at the back of Liam’s head.
“Yeah,” I say. “Romantic.”
“So, Teddy tells me you two work together. How long has that been?”
“Four years,” I answer, smoothing my palms over my jeans. “But sometimes it feels longer.”
She laughs. “I can relate. These boys wouldn’t know what to do without us.”
Teddy calls back, chuckling, “Amen to that.”
I smile, but then Liam speaks.
“My cousin, Phern, worked as the manager before Olive,” he says casually, like he’s talking about a piece of furniture being replaced. “She did a good job, too, so it must not be too hard of a job.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Ouch.
I force a tight smile.
“Phern’s brilliant,” I say, keeping my voice even. “No doubt about that. Her filing system saved my butt more times than I can count.”
I glance out the window, blinking fast. Does he even hear what he’s saying? We’re here to seal a deal, and he’s not even trying to act like he likes me.
Bessie reaches over, squeezing my leg with surprising strength.
“Spats are always rough,” she says, her voice warm with mischief. “But lordy, the making up is so much fun.”
Teddy lets out a booming laugh. I manage a weak smile. Because there’s nothing fun about this.
We finally pull up to their ranch and even in my fog of grief and exhaustion, I can’t help but be impressed. The operation is massive. Different from ours. I bite down hard on the thought. Not ours. It never was.
Different from Liam’s.
The main house is sprawling. Wide porches, tall windows, a warmth that speaks of family and years of stories tucked into every corner. Fifteen kids. Thirty grandkids. With room for more. Of course it’s huge.
Bessie leads us inside, chatting the whole way, insisting we should nap before dinner. We pass room after room, each one bigger and more inviting than the last. Until finally, she stops in front of a wide oak door and swings it open.
The room is bathed in soft golden light.
There’s a massive four-poster bed with thick quilts in shades of cream and dusty rose.
Sheer curtains flutter in the breeze from the open window.
A braided rug sprawls across the floor, worn in the way only beloved things can be.
Framed photographs line the dresser—weddings, new babies, grinning faces full of history and love.
It’s beautiful. Heart achingly so.
Bessie says, beaming, “This is the baby-making room.”
I blink. Liam freezes beside me. His face morphs into something like horror probably mirroring my expression.
“The what?” I croak.
“You heard me. Baby-making room. Worked for me and Teddy. Worked for three of our kids and their partners. Hopefully, you two will catch a little of that magic, too.”
I open my mouth ready to beg, plead, or sob for another room.
But before I can get the words out, Bessie pats my arm and backs away, still smiling like she knows some secret the rest of us haven't figured out yet.
“Dinner’s at seven,” she calls cheerfully down the hall. “And we won’t hold it against you if you’re a little late!”
The door clicks shut.
Leaving me and Liam alone.
In the baby-making room.