Chapter Thirty- Four – Wes
Chapter Thirty- Four
Wes
M y living room's never felt smaller than it does with two Hollywood producers perched on Sarah's old couch like exotic birds that took a wrong turn in Manhattan. I stand by the window, arms crossed, watching Grant Something-or-Other—tall, slick, and way too enthusiastic for a man in a blazer on a working ranch—gesture wildly, like we’re on some game show. “We’re talking huge exposure. The movie’s already generating buzz, and fans love to visit real-life locations from their favorite films.”
The shorter one, a woman named Dana, nods like this is the best idea since fences. “We’d be offering a very generous location fee, but beyond that, we’d also handle renovations. Fix up the barn, upgrade fencing, update plumbing where needed?—”
Jake, standing beside me with his arms crossed, scoffs. “Now, hold on. You think you’re just gonna roll in here and start ‘upgrading’ our ranch?”
Grant’s smile doesn’t waver. “With your approval, of course.”
Colt, who’s way too entertained by all this, leans back in his chair, boots propped up on the coffee table like he’s watching a rodeo. “You’re telling me you wanna pay us and fix the place up? No strings attached?”
Dana waves a perfectly manicured hand. “The only ‘string’ is that we’d love to keep part of the ranch open for tours after filming wraps. It’s standard in the industry—people want to walk where their favorite scenes were filmed, take pictures, buy a little merch. Think of it like… Yellowstone , but with a gift shop.”
Jake makes a disgusted sound. “That’s the worst sentence I’ve ever heard.”
And just like I knew she would, Paisley lights up like Christmas morning. “See? Told you!” she says, looking way too pleased with herself. “People eat this stuff up.”
I shoot her a look. “ You eat this stuff up.”
She shrugs unapologetically. “And so do millions of other people. Don’t underestimate the power of a well-run tourism business.”
I sigh, reminding myself I actually like her most days.
Grant claps his hands together. “So! We renovate, we film, we leave you with a fixed-up ranch and a new revenue stream. And to top it all off…” He gives me a pointed look. “We’d love to feature you in some interviews and promotional material. The real cowboy who inspired the story.”
Colt lets out an actual bark of laughter. “Oh, this just got good.”
Jake grins. “Yeah, Wes. You always did want to be a movie star.”
I glare at both of them before turning back to the producers. “I’m not the guy from her book.”
Dana tilts her head, studying me. “You sure? Because from what I read, the rugged, brooding, grumpy rancher with a secret heart of gold is very on brand for you.”
Paisley coughs into her hand, definitely covering a laugh.
I exhale sharply, trying to hold on +to the last shred of patience I have. “Look, I get that this is a good deal on paper. But this ranch isn’t a theme park. We work hard to keep it running, and I’m not interested in it becoming some kind of tourist attraction.”
Dana and Grant exchange a look before Grant leans in, voice smooth. “Wes, I hear you. And I respect that. But just imagine—for a second—that instead of fighting to keep this place afloat, you let it work for you. A little extra income, a little less stress. Maybe even some time to enjoy life instead of constantly fixing what’s broken.”
The room goes quiet.
I feel Jake and Colt watching me. They know how hard it’s been to keep this place going. How I’ve barely slept in years trying to make ends meet to keep this land from slipping out from under us.
And then there’s Paisley. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in her eyes—a quiet plea. Not pushing. Just… hoping.
I rub a hand over my face. I hate this. Hate that they’re making sense. Hate that, for the first time in a long time, there’s an option that doesn’t end with me working myself into the ground just to keep our heads above water.
Finally, I blow out a breath. “We’ll talk about it.”
Grant grins like he just won the lottery. “That’s all we ask.”
Colt smirks. “Can’t wait to see Wes’s face on a movie poster.”
Jake grins. “We’re framing it.”
I shake my head, already regretting this.
The house is quiet now. Too quiet.
For the first time all day, there are no producers talking about contracts, no brothers cracking jokes at my expense, no distractions to keep me from facing what’s right in front of me. Just the sound of crickets in the tall grass, the creak of the old rocking chair as Paisley shifts, and the steady weight of everything I haven’t said pressing against my ribs.
I take a slow sip of my coffee, letting the warmth settle, but it doesn’t do a thing to chase off the cold knot sitting in my chest. Paisley’s next to me, curled into her chair, quiet. Waiting. I can feel it.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s staring at the horizon, mug resting against her knee, the glow from the porch light catching in the strands of her hair. She’s always had a way of making herself at home in places that shouldn’t make sense for her. My ranch. My life.
I exhale, slow and steady, setting my cup down on the rail. “Guess today didn’t turn out how I expected.”
She huffs a soft laugh. “I’d say that’s an understatement.”
Another silence stretches between us, thick as the summer air. I clear my throat, gripping my knees. “You’re quiet.”
“You are, too.”
I glance at her again. “Don’t have much to say.”
She turns her head then, studying me like she’s waiting for something. When I don’t offer more, she looks away with a small nod, as if she expected it.
That does something to me.
I stare at the darkened pasture, feeling the weight of my own stubborn pride settling deep in my bones. It’s always been easier to keep my head down, to push through things, to survive without asking for much. But I’m starting to realize that’s not enough. Not anymore.
I rub a hand over my face, then drop it back to my knee. “I should’ve listened to you,” I say finally, my voice rougher than I intended. “From the start.”
Paisley doesn’t react right away. Just sits there, watching the night like she’s giving me space to keep going—or maybe waiting to see if I actually will.
I swallow. “You saw something in this place I didn’t. You saw a future here, a way to make it work, and I was too blind—too proud—to see it. I’ve spent so much time fighting to keep things the way they were that I almost let the ranch slip right through my fingers. And worse… I almost let you slip through, too.”
She turns to face me fully now, her expression unreadable. “Wes?—”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Let me get this out.”
She closes her mouth, waiting.
I grip my hands together, my voice low. “I’ve spent my whole life thinking that holding on to something meant keeping it exactly the same. That if I just worked hard enough, fought hard enough, I could stop things from changing. I blow out a breath, shaking my head. “I should’ve trusted you. Trusted us. And I should’ve had more faith that we could find a way to make this work.”
Paisley doesn’t say anything right away.
That silence stretches again, longer this time, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t know where I stand with her. The thought settles like a stone in my gut.
I shift forward, my elbows on my knees, voice quieter now. “Are you gonna go back to Manhattan after the movie’s done?”
She takes a slow sip of her coffee, eyes searching mine. “Do you want me to?”
I don’t hesitate. “No.”
A flicker of something crosses her face. “Why not?”
My fingers tighten into fists against my thighs. She’s making me say it. Making me lay it all out, raw and real.
I take a breath. “Because I love you.” The words come out steady, firm. “And I don’t want this ranch without you in it.”
Paisley doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move. Then, finally, she sets her coffee down on the porch, tilts her head, and says, “Took you long enough.”
That breaks something in me.
I let out a breath of laughter, shaking my head. “Yeah. It did.”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying to fight a smile, but her eyes are too soft to hide what she’s feeling. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, mirroring me. “So… what now?”
I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “You tell me.”
She squeezes my fingers, voice quieter now. “I love you, too, Wes.”
The relief that rushes through me is staggering. I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, holding her there for a long moment.
“So… does that mean you’re staying?” I ask, my voice rough with hope.
Paisley tilts her head, pretending to think. “Well… Yellowstone with a gift shop does have a nice ring to it.”
I groan, but I’m smiling. “I take it back. I should never have listened to you.”
She grins, tugging me closer. “Too late, cowboy. You’re stuck with me now.”
And just like that, everything that felt uncertain—everything I thought I might lose—settles into something real. Something lasting.
For the first time in a long, long time, I let myself believe in us.