Chapter 27
RYDER
I lean against the paddock, elbows digging into the weathered wood, staring at the land that has belonged to my family since before this town had a name.
The late-afternoon heat shimmers over the fields, turning the horizon liquid.
Sweat pools at the small of my back. I should be out in the pastures fixing the fence lines that came down in the tornado, or checking on the herd, or tackling any of the thousand things that need doing on a working farm.
Instead, I’m hiding in the shadow of everything I was supposed to protect, frozen with fear.
Because after six generations, I might be the Evans who loses it all.
The irony tastes like rust on my tongue.
My father died young, but he never put the farm at risk.
My grandparents survived the war—him fighting, her keeping Hollow Creek going on her own.
The generation before weathered the Depression without losing an acre.
And me? I’m going to lose the lakefront properties because I had to play developer.
Had to modernize. Had to keep up with the Rockwoods and claim my piece of the local tourism boom, turning the old cabins into magazine-worthy cottages.
The renovations were my idea. I pushed for them, insisted on top-of-the-line everything.
New roofs. New plumbing. New decks. I promised Mom and my siblings they would pay for themselves.
That we could charge premium rates. That Blue Crescent Harbor was changing, and we needed to change with it or get left behind.
I told them to trust me.
They did.
And I ruined us.
A hawk circles overhead, riding thermals. I watch it drift, weightless and free, and wonder what it’s like not to carry the weight of generations on your back.
Footsteps rustle in the grass behind me. I turn, half-expecting my mother, and instead catch Faye crossing the field toward me in jeans and a light T-shirt, hair loose around her shoulders. “Your mom said I might find you here.”
She must’ve gotten back from the professional development session she had at the school.
I want to smile, cross the distance between us, and pull her into my arms. Bury my face in her hair and breathe her in until the tightness in my chest eases.
But even she can’t bring me joy today.
Faye stops a few feet away, studying me with those honey-colored eyes that see too damn much. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
She closes the remaining distance and folds herself into me. I let myself lean into her warmth, her steadiness. But I can’t unwind the tension locked into my muscles.
She frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Ryder.”
I look at the fields. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” She slides one hand down to take mine, threading our fingers together. “Are you worried about the cottages? I know the damage looked bad last night, but—”
“It’s worse than we thought,” I reply in a flat, dead tone.
She’s quiet for a moment. “How much worse?”
I drag a hand across my jaw. “It’ll take weeks to fix. Maybe longer. The entire summer season is lost. I had to cancel all bookings and refund the deposits.”
She blinks at me, not really understanding. It’s not her fault—I’m not explaining the situation properly. But voicing it aloud would mean admitting the truth to myself, and I’m not ready for that.
“I’m sorry.” Faye nudges a clump of grass with the toe of her shoe. “That’s a huge setback. But you’ll be able to rent them again once the repairs are done, right? You’ll make up the lost income over time.”
I don’t answer.
Her grip on my hand tightens. “Ryder, what aren’t you telling me? I could tell last night that Rebecca and Remy were worried. It is about more than lost summer bookings, isn’t it?”
I pull my hand away. Cross my arms. Create distance even though she’s standing right next to me.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she offers. “But if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
She doesn’t push, and that’s what breaks me. Fuck it. What’s the point of hiding how badly I’ve screwed up?
“Even if the insurance covers everything—which I doubt—the money won’t come in time.” The admission tastes like failure. “I’ll lose the cottages to the bank first.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “But they’d want to give you a respite on the mortgage payments until the insurance settlement comes through. Why wouldn’t they?”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Because the Rockwoods have them in their pockets.”
“The Rockwoods?” She tilts her head. “The founding family?”
“Yeah.” I turn back to the fence. “They’ve been after the lakefront land ever since they got into real estate development. Made us a couple of offers over the years. Good ones. But we always said no. That land has been ours since the town was founded. It’s not for sale.”
“And they control the bank?” Worry seeps into her voice.
“Not directly, but, yeah, the second I miss a payment, they’ll move to foreclose. Charles Rockwood will make sure of that. The old man is ruthless. And without the rental income, I can’t cover the mortgage.”
Silence stretches between us. Long enough that I glance over at her.
Faye’s gaze is on the ground. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, a deep crease between her eyebrows.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
She looks up at me. “Is it only a cash flow problem?”
“Only?” I scoff. “Cash flow is everything when the bank owns you.”
“I mean—” She takes a breath, gaze uncertain. “I could cover the mortgage until the insurance comes through.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’d be a loan.” She speaks faster now, like she needs to spit the words out before she loses her nerve. “I give you the money for the next installments, then you pay me back with the insurance. Problem solved.”
“Faye.” I shake my head, caught between disbelief and a spark of hope I can’t indulge. “Do you have an extra ten grand a month lying around?”
Her expression turns almost apologetic.
I search her face, waiting for the punch line. A sign that she isn’t serious.
But only determination shines in her eyes. And underneath it, embarrassment.
Now the BMW, the designer clothes, and the summer rates she pays year-round without blinking make sense.
“I knew you weren’t hurting for cash,” I say. “Figured your family had money. But how rich are your folks?”
Her cheeks flush that pretty pink that I love. Except this time, it’s not from desire or happiness—but shame.
“I haven’t told you everything.” Faye wrings her hands. “About my life in California.”
My heart sinks.
No.
Not now. Not on top of everything else. I can’t lose the family legacy and the woman I love in the same forty-eight hours. Because I do love her, as sure as rain follows drought.
I’m in love with Faye Rose. And from the guilty way she’s looking at me, she’s about to tell me something that will change everything.
“What is it?” The question rasps against my throat.
She wraps her arms around herself. “When I said I worked as a game developer, I also… mmm… owned part of the company.”
My brain needs a second to process.
“Are you saying you’re a closeted tech millionaire?” I let out a shaky laugh that rings out hollow.
She doesn’t smile back.
Her face gets more serious. More apologetic.
The ground crumbles under my feet.
“It’s a little more than that,” she mumbles.
I stare at her. The person I thought I knew. The woman I’ve been falling for since the day we met.
And I realize I don’t know her at all.
“How much more?” The question is harsh. “Eight figures?” Her eyes widen in fear. “Nine?”
She doesn’t answer. She just looks at me with those eyes full of guilt and an apology.
“Faye.” I sound distant even to my own ears. “How many zeros are we talking about?”
Her throat works as she swallows, but still doesn’t answer.
“Are you a fucking billionaire?”
She winces.
Then nods.
The world tilts sideways.
I grip the fence rail to steady myself. But it doesn’t help. Faye isn’t who I thought she was. The woman who wears faded video game T-shirts and reads spicy fairy tales and gets carsick on long drives—she’s a billionaire. And a liar.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The ice in my voice shocks even me. My tone is cold enough for her to flinch.
“It didn’t seem relevant—”
“Are you kidding me now?” I huff out a laugh that twists into a snarl. “You don’t think that’s something you should’ve mentioned? At any point?”
“Why?” Her voice rises to match mine. “Why does it matter? Money doesn’t change who I am.”
“It changes everything!” I’m shouting now, I can’t help it. “Damn it, Faye. I told you—” I have to stop. Force air into my lungs. “I told you trust was everything to me. That after Abigail, after what she did, I couldn’t—”
“This isn’t the same thing—”
“The hell it isn’t!” My cheeks are burning. My chest feels like it’s caving in. “You’ve been lying since the day we met. Makes me wonder what else was a lie.” I turn away, fury crawling under my skin.
“That’s not fair,” she says, and now her voice is shaking. “You said it yourself, you assumed I had family money. Was it only okay if it came from a trust fund? Or since it comes from my work, from something I built, you—”
“Don’t.” I cut her off as my face grows hotter. “Don’t you dare turn this around. The way you made your money isn’t the fucking problem.”
“Then what is?”
“The lying!” The accusation rips out of me.
“I didn’t lie!”
“You might as well have.” My voice cracks. “You were the first person I let in. The first person I trusted. The first woman I’ve—”
I stop myself before I say love. Because how can I love someone I don’t even know?
“And you’ve been lying to me this entire time.”