9. Ace
ACE
“I’m bidding on the Grant ranch.” My voice carries through the air, certain and steady, just like I’m not. My hands flex at my sides, anxious to touch something real, to wrap around the splintered fence.
Gavin watches me with a smile. “Just remember, cowboy, the dream might lasso you before you know it.” He rests his hands on the rail, like he’s settling in, but I know him too well to believe it.
A new kind of future, built from the ground up. That’s what I tell myself this is about. This land around us is wide open and thick with ghosts I need to leave behind.
“You know I’ve got your back on this,” he says, his easy grin never quite leaving his face. It’s like the damn thing’s stitched on. “But do you have a plan other than sheer stubbornness?”
I laugh, the sound rougher than I expect. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”
He leans back against the fence, pulling at a loose thread in his jeans. “Just wondering what Olivia’s gonna think when you ride in guns blazing.”
The mention of her name catches me, a hook just under the skin. I keep my face steady, my eyes on the fence post with its peeling paint and stubborn rust stains. “Business is business. She’ll understand.”
Gavin gives me a look like he’s trying to figure if I’m playing the fool or just playing myself. “This whole thing’s not gonna be another Montgomery vs. Grant showdown, is it?”
I shove my hands into my pockets, where they can’t give me away. “Not this time,” I say, and the words float there, lighter than they should be.
A breeze kicks up, carrying with it the scent of something green and growing.
“You’re in deep,” Gavin says, his voice softening like he’s giving me some kind of warning. Or maybe a blessing.
“It’ll work out,” I say, like if I say it enough, it has to be true.
We both go quiet, the kind of silence that only comes when you know someone long enough not to need the space filled. The world around us is all color and sound, the last of the sun painting long streaks across the sky while crickets join in with the cicadas for an evening concert.
“Your old man know about this yet?” Gavin asks after a while, his voice as easy as if he’s asking about the weather.
I shake my head. “He knows I’m thinking about it. Hates the idea, of course.”
He nods like that’s what he figured, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I can tell he’s waiting for me to say more, to spill the guts of whatever I’m holding close, but he doesn’t push. Gavin’s always been good that way.
“It’s time I do something on my own,” I say, surprising myself with the edge in my voice. “He’ll get used to it. He doesn’t have a choice.”
Gavin whistles low, pushing off the fence like he’s getting ready to leave. He brushes his jeans off and meets my eye. “You’re the most bullheaded person I know,” he says, but there’s no judgment in it, just a fact as solid as the earth we stand on. “That’s gonna make you or break you.”
I watch him as he starts walking away, his boots crunching against the gravel. I wonder if he knows something I don’t, or if he’s just hedging his bets like always.
I lean back on the fence, feeling the grit bite through my shirt.
I stare out at the line of trees, dark and looming against the fading sky.
It’s like looking down a road I haven’t taken yet, a path that twists and turns and doesn’t let you see more than a step ahead.
I try to picture the Grant ranch, my ranch, and all the things I could make it into.
I think about the fields, the barns, and then I think about Olivia, her eyes the same shade of green as those stubborn trees.
I push the thought aside before it has a chance to grow roots.
I stand there until the first stars start to poke their heads out and then I turn and walk towards my truck. My pickup growls to a stop by the Grant ranch, its wheels churning the gravel in protest. I turn the key and sit for a moment.
The barns loom large. The years have marked them, but they’re still standing, still strong. They’re like this ranch, like me—maybe worse for the wear, but stubborn enough to endure.
The ranch has Olivia written all over it, and that’s the part I didn’t count on, the part I can’t think too hard about or it’ll drag me under.
A part of me has been trying to keep the lingering feelings for her under wraps, but the older I get, the more I can’t stop thinking about her. Has she not thought about why I haven’t even looked at another woman since high school? We might be sneaking around, but maybe one day, we won’t have to.