25. Logan
Logan
The dust settles slower than it should.
That’s what I notice first.
Her truck’s gone—has been for a while now—but the air still feels like it hasn’t caught up.
Like something’s off.
Like something didn’t close clean.
I stand in the yard longer than I need to, staring at the empty stretch of road she disappeared down.
Not waiting.
Just—
not moving.
“You gonna stand there all day?”
Cole’s voice cuts through it.
Sharp.
Familiar.
Grounding.
I don’t turn.
“She’s gone,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “That’s usually what happens when someone leaves.”
I huff a quiet breath.
No edge left in it.
No heat.
Just—
flat.
Cole steps up beside me, arms crossed, eyes tracking the same road I’ve been staring at.
“You did the right thing,” he says.
I nod once.
Because I did.
Because I had to.
Because none of this works if I don’t.
Doesn’t make it feel right.
Grayson joins us a second later, quieter, more measured, the way he always is when something bigger is shifting under the surface.
“She tells you everything?” he asks.
“No.”
“Enough?”
I don’t answer right away.
Because that’s the problem.
It was enough to matter.
Not enough to trust.
“Not really,” I say.
Grayson nods once.
Like he expected that.
“She admitted Vegas,” Cole adds. “That’s more than I thought we’d get.”
“Yeah.”
“She used you,” he says.
Straight.
Clean.
No hesitation.
I feel that one.
Not new.
Just—
clearer now.
“Part of it,” I reply.
Cole scoffs. “That’s a hell of a way to soften it.”
I don’t push back.
Because I can’t.
Because he’s not wrong.
Grayson shifts slightly, stepping closer, his voice lower.
“She also told you why,” he says.
I glance at him.
“She told me enough to justify it,” I say.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
It’s not.
Silence stretches.
Different from before.
Not tense.
Not sharp.
Just—
heavy.
“She’s not him,” Grayson says after a moment.
I look at him.
“Didn’t say she was.”
“You’re acting like it.”
That lands.
Harder than it should.
Because there’s truth in it.
Because I didn’t separate it clean.
Because I didn’t want to.
“She made her own choices,” I say.
“So did you,” he replies.
Yeah.
I did.
I let her in.
I kept her here.
I chose not to push harder when I knew something didn’t add up.
That part—
that part’s on me.
Cole exhales sharply. “We’re not doing this,” he says. “She played both sides. That’s it.”
“No,” Grayson counters. “That’s not it.”
“It’s enough.”
“Not if we’re missing something.”
Cole turns on him. “What are we missing?”
Grayson doesn’t answer right away.
His gaze shifts back to me.
Because whatever it is—
it runs through me.
“Logan?” he says.
I push a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly.
Because this is where it gets messy.
Where it stops being clean.
“She didn’t lie about everything,” I say.
Cole lets out a short laugh. “That’s your takeaway?”
“She didn’t deny Vegas,” I add. “She didn’t spin it. She told it straight.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No,” I agree. “But it means something.”
Grayson nods once.
Cole doesn’t.
“That’s not enough to bring her back,” Cole says.
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Then what are you saying?”
That’s the question.
The one I’ve been avoiding since she drove off.
I look back at the road.
Empty.
Still.
Too quiet.
“I’m saying she didn’t walk away because she got caught,” I say.
Cole’s brow furrows. “Then why?”
Because she chose to.
Because she could’ve stayed.
Because she didn’t try to fix it.
Because—
“She said she needed control,” I add.
“And?” Cole presses.
“And she left when she lost it.”
Silence.
That lands differently.
Not clean.
Not simple.
But it fits.
Grayson exhales slowly. “That tracks.”
Cole shakes his head. “Or it’s another angle.”
“Maybe,” I say.
“But you don’t think so,” Grayson adds.
I don’t.
That’s the problem.
Because now I’m not just looking at what she did.
I’m looking at why.
And that—
that’s harder to ignore.
“She could’ve stayed and played it out,” I say. “Used what she had here. She didn’t.”
Cole crosses his arms tighter. “Or she’s setting something else up.”
“Maybe.”
“But you don’t think so,” he repeats.
No.
I don’t.
Not the way she said it.
Not the way she—
I shut that down.
Because that’s not something I get to factor in.
Not right now.
Not with what we know.
Luke’s truck pulls into the yard, cutting the conversation short.
He steps out fast, already moving toward us.
“Got something,” he says.
That’s enough to shift everything.
“What?” I ask.
“Wire transfer flagged,” he replies. “Same shell account tied to the Vegas rental.”
My focus sharpens instantly.
“Where?”
“Local,” he says. “Within thirty miles.”
Cole’s head snaps up. “Here?”
“Yeah.”
That changes things.
Fast.
“Amount?” Grayson asks.
“Enough to matter.”
That’s all we need.
“Who’s it tied to?” I press.
Luke shakes his head. “Still digging. But the timing—”
“Lines up,” I finish.
“Exactly.”
Silence drops.
Short.
Sharp.
Then—
“We move,” Cole says.
“Yeah,” I agree.
No hesitation now.
No distraction.
Because this—
this is the part I know how to handle.
Action.
Direction.
Control.
But as I turn toward the truck—
something stops me.
Not the plan.
Not the threat.
Her.
The way she said it.
I didn’t stay because of the plan.
I didn’t let her finish that thought.
Didn’t want to.
Didn’t trust it.
Didn’t—
Grayson’s voice cuts in.
“You coming?”
I look back at the road one last time.
Empty.
Still.
And for the first time since she left—
something shifts.
Not doubt.
Not forgiveness.
Something else.
A question I didn’t ask.
An answer I didn’t let her give.
And the realization—
that I might’ve ended something before I understood it.
I turn back.
Decision already forming.
“Yeah,” I say.
But it’s not just about the ranch anymore.
Not just about Evan.
And not just about what she did.
It’s about what I missed.
And whether I’m willing to leave it that way.