Chapter 1
HUDSON
The sun was sinking fast behind the hills, painting the barn in long gold stripes and heavy shadows. End of the day, and I was ready to get home, shower, spend some time playing with my little girl, then after putting her to bed, maybe grab a beer, sit on the porch, and let my spine unkink.
That was the plan. The same plan I had six days a week.
Predictable. But the way I liked it. Thank fuck this year Gray had decided not to have the dude ranch on account of his son getting married.
Without the additional work, my eyelids were already heavy, and I was looking forward to the rest of my evening.
Right up until Matty Magnuson appeared in my line of vision.
Fuck.
Everything was always extreme with Matty.
He stomped down the barn aisle like something out of a storm, boots hitting the floor hard enough to leave dents. Hay was in his hair, and the glare on his face could’ve dropped a full-grown bull.
Even pissed, all I could think about was shoving him into a stall and riding him.
So, business as usual.
It’d been four years since we were last together, and given I’d broken up with him, I should be over him.
But Matty wasn’t the sort of guy you got over.
He was the one who got away. Pain in my ass as he was, he should have been sharing my bed every night, raising my daughter with me, unwinding after a long day.
But I broke Matty’s heart, and now he hated me with the same intensity he’d put into what should have been just a summer fling between us.
“You gonna slam that gate every night, or just when you see me coming?” he snapped, arms crossed, jaw locked tight.
Good.
The last time I held the gate for him, the fucker walked through without so much as a thank you. It’d reminded me how he was the perfect fucking gentleman while we fooled around, holding doors for me, always picking up the tab.
The Matty I’d known four years ago, I’d ruined him. Now I got the asshole version who did everything possible to make my life a living hell.
I didn’t turn around at first. Just finished latching the last stall and gave it a good tug to make sure it held.
“Didn’t want to get accused of slacking off again.” I should have left it at that. “But as I recall, you’d rather open doors yourself.”
As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. I tried never to mention our dating history because that usually set him off even more than usual. And I didn’t like to think about those memories.
Fuck, the memories we’d made that summer.
“What did you just say?” Matty’s growl was quiet and full of rage.
“Nothing.” I turned slowly, wiping my hands on my dirty jeans. “Am I done for the day, or is there something else you want?”
I bit my tongue as a memory punched me in the chest of asking him that same question before. He’d pushed me up against the wall of an empty stall and taken the something else he wanted.
As a bi man, I’d always leaned heavily toward women. I’d always topped the men I’d been with before Matty. But somehow Matty could get the Pope to spread his legs for him and thank him for fucking him all in the same breath.
The fact that he was younger had niggled at me at first, but Matty had pursued me hard, leaving me defenseless that summer of us.
Our passion hadn’t fizzled out. It had blazed too hot, too fast, and in the end, we got burned trying to hold on to something that never stood a chance. We were both too different.
He’d practically swept me off my fucking feet, and I’d blown it.
“You came in an hour late, and you want to fuck off already?”
“Yeah, my kid wasn’t feeling too well this morning. Gray said it was okay.”
More like my wife had been hungover from last night, and I’d had to find someone who could babysit for me.
Matty flinched, and his gaze faltered like it always did when I mentioned my daughter. I got the sense that he resented her existence.
Last Christmas, when I brought her to the ranch for the usual family potluck, everyone had fawned over her, which only made it obvious how much Matty went out of his way to avoid us. By the end of the night, when my wife eventually showed up drunk, he’d looked disgusted.
When Matty accosted me in private and snapped that I should have never brought her here, I couldn’t decide if he meant my wife or my daughter. I’d taken it to mean both and never brought them back to the ranch for any of the family events Gray put on.
“Given I’m your line manager, you should have reported your lateness to me. Don’t let it happen again, Hudson. And you’re staying behind today to give back the hour.”
“Like hell I am.”
“Are you saying you’re not going to do it?”
He was itching to fire me, wasn’t he? But I needed this job. I wasn’t qualified to do anything. That summer, Gray had taken a chance on me with nothing but my word that I would work hard.
“I gave back the time by not taking lunch.” I scowled at him, standing my ground. Matty was stubborn, but so was I. How else did I end up marrying the town’s mattress, intent on making a family out of us, even though I knew the relationship never stood a chance?
“I saw you having lunch.”
“You saw me eating a friggin’ sandwich.”
“Sounds like lunch to me.”
“You got a real charming way of saying ‘thank you for fixing the fence’ you should have mended when you went riding Junebug instead.”
“I’d thank you if you’d done those fences right the first time, so they didn’t need fixing.”
The air between us sparked immediate, electric. Matty squared up in front of me, chest heaving like he’d been looking for a reason all day to fight with me.
I gave him one.
“You ever try not being a dick for five minutes straight?”
“I’ll be a dick if it gets the work done. We’re not paying you to do a half-assed job.”
We were toe to toe now. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his pulse jumped at his throat, the faint scrape of stubble on his jaw. That stubble usually left the inside of my cheeks prickled just right.
He smelled like sweat, sun, and hay dust. Familiar. Unavoidable.
Matty stepped in even closer, almost nose to nose. “You got something you wanna say to me, Granger? If not, get back to fucking work.”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do,” I said, voice low.
“I’m tired of the attitude. You wanna square up every damn day like this is middle school?
Grow up. We fucked. I hurt you. It’s been four years, and I have a family to feed.
I’d appreciate it if you stopped busting my balls and let me do my fucking job! ”
His mouth twitched like he was about to lunge, and for half a second, I almost wanted him to. When we fought, when he punched me, it hurt so good. Finally having him touch me, even if it was in hate.
“Hudson!”
The door to the barn banged open. A pair of boots pounded hard against the floor, scattering hay and horse dust, as a young ranch hand—Micah, barely twenty—came flying down the aisle, chest heaving.
“Hudson!”
I jerked my head toward him. “What’s up?”
“Sorry, sorry to interrupt, but… your wife, man.”
I stiffened. With my wife, the news could be anything. Passed out at the bar again. Holed up in some motel room with a stranger she just met. Or even burned our house down for the insurance money.
“What about Heather?”
“She’s gone.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
Micah bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “I just came from town. She’s gone, dude. Packed up her car and left about an hour ago. She… someone said she left with Lonnie Fischer.”
My vision tunneled.
Lonnie. Fucking. Fischer.
The town drunk. The guy who still owed a debt to practically everyone in town, including me. The one who got kicked out of the saloon twice last month for pissing in a booth. The man I’d caught her with twice already.
Over my dead body would she have him hanging around my daughter.
Ivy.
My heart skipped a beat, and I grabbed Micah by his collar. “Did she take Ivy?” My voice came out strangled, my throat suddenly dry. “Micah, did she take my daughter?”
My darling Ivy. The only joy I’d found in the last four years.
He shook his head, eyes wide. “No! No, she left her. Left her with Estelle, I think. I-I don’t know all the details, man. Just folks at the gas station were talking. I thought you should know.”
Relief hit me like a gut punch. I nearly collapsed from it.
Ivy was safe.
But her mother left her.
“Jesus Christ.” I fished for my keys in my back pocket.
“Hudson,” Matty said sharply.
I turned.
His face was pale, but his eyes were still hard. “We’re not finished.”
“I have to go,” I said, voice flat.
“No, you don’t. We’re in the middle of—”
“Get out of my face, Magnuson,” I growled. “I swear to God, not right now.”
He stepped forward again like he couldn’t help himself, jaw clenched. “What the hell did you expect?” he snapped. “You married the goddamn town whore.”
The words hit like a slap. Hot, sharp, and low.
Everyone knew what Heather was like, but people were usually polite enough to whisper it behind the back of their hands.
Matty, on the other hand, would rather punch me in the face with my wife’s notorious infidelity.
Because every day he had to put me through hell to punish me for breaking his heart.
Micah shook his head. “Damn, Matty. That wasn’t cool, man.”
But Matty didn’t take it back. He didn’t blink.
I didn’t answer him, didn’t give him the satisfaction. I turned and walked out of the barn without another word, rage simmering under my skin, grief clawing at my chest, and one thought ringing louder than the rest:
Ivy.
I didn’t stop moving until I reached my truck, an old, dust-caked Ford that coughed awake when I turned the key like it hated being useful.
I yanked the gearshift and tore out of the Bristle M’s lot in a storm of gravel and exhaust, heart hammering. Matty’s voice echoed in the back of my mind, cruel and sharp, but I shoved it down. I didn’t have space in my head for anything but Ivy.
Please don’t let her be scared. Please don’t let her know what’s going on.
The sun was low by the time I hit the winding street back into town. It wasn’t far as the crow flew, but the road curved like it couldn’t decide where the hell it wanted to go. Every mile dragged like an hour.
By the time I turned onto my street, my stomach was in knots.
The house looked normal from the outside. No bags on the porch. Just the same modest bungalow with the peeling mailbox and the dinosaur-shaped lawn sprinkler still tipped on its side from the weekend.
I hopped out of the truck and slammed the door shut. As soon as I entered the house, Ivy came barreling toward me in jelly sandals and a T-shirt that said I Make My Own Rules in glittery letters, arms outstretched, smile so wide it made my knees weak.
“Daddy!”
I dropped to the ground fast and caught her full on in my chest.
“Hey, baby girl,” I murmured into her hair, holding her so tight she squealed again, laughing against my shoulder. “God, I missed you today. Did you miss me?”
“Yea, miss you, Daddee.”
“This much?” I extended a thumb and index finger to show a little. She giggled and shook her head, spreading her arms wide. “This much, Daddee!”
I kissed the side of her face and held her for another second because I could. Because she was here. And for a split second, I’d been terrified that I might have lost her.
Footsteps shuffled close as Estelle came up behind her, gray eyes filled with pity. I loathed that look. People had been giving it to me since the day I got married.
“Honey, why don’t you get a ball so we can go outside and play for a bit?”
“Yay!” She zipped ahead, giving me privacy.
“She left, didn’t she?” I asked.
Estelle sighed, brushing her curly bangs back with shaky fingers. “Yeah. She packed a bag after lunch. When I asked her when she was returning, she said she didn’t know. She peeled out like her hair was on fire.”
“She say anything else?”
“No explanation. Just… gone.”
That tracked for her.
“Thank you,” I said hoarsely. “I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I’m sorry about this. Maybe she will come to her senses and be back by tonight.”
I nodded. I would be fine regardless.
I had to be.
Because I might’ve screwed up a lot of things in my life, but not her. Not my little girl.
And anyone who had a problem with her would have a problem with me.