Chapter 35
aria
The county jail is colder than I expected.
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. The floor smells like bleach and resignation. I sit across from my sister in a metal chair bolted to the floor, a scratched-up plastic partition between us.
Celine looks like hell.
Her blonde hair is dull, pulled into a limp ponytail. She’s in county-issued orange, sleeves pushed up like she’s too good for it, but the strain in her face says the performance is cracking. There’s no more velvet curtain between us. No pageantry.
Celine never did get out on bail, didn’t want the lawyer I paid for, said she didn’t want ‘a damn thing’ from me. As Nadine said, “Celine is stubborn pride wrapped in bitterness.”
She’s officially taken a deal.
She had no choice.
The DA had her cornered. With Tate and Wes’s testimony, the paper trail, and what they pulled from Wes’s phone, there wasn’t much left to argue.
She pled guilty to conspiracy and reckless endangerment. They dropped the attempted manslaughter, but she’s still looking at years in a federal prison.
I wanted to see her before she was transferred out of the county.
Broken and twisted she may be, Celine’s still my baby sister.
Maverick doesn’t understand.
He’s waiting outside, seething, in his truck ‘cause I didn’t want him with me, intimidating everyone around him. Maverick is a protective man, and sometimes I need to stand my ground and not let him walk all over me.
“How are you, Celine?”
She leans back in her chair and gives me a slow smile. There’s nothing kind about it. “I’m doing great.”
I’ve spent a lot of time wondering why she did what she did, why she hates me so much.
But, finally, I realized that none of what she did was about me.
It was about winning. About control. About punishing me for daring to come home and standing tall on land she thought should’ve been sold off.
“Is there anything you want? Or need? Can I help you in any way?”
She huffs out a laugh. “Christ! What are you? Mother Teresa? There’s no one here to see your act. So, drop it.”
Sadness engulfs me. “I mean it, Celine.”
For a moment, silence settles between us, brittle and strained, like glass about to crack.
“I hear the ranch is all yours now,” she spits out at me.
After the plea deal was finalized, the judge approved the petition my lawyer filed. Celine’s claims on Longhorn were struck from the record.
I had almost not done it, didn’t want her to lose her home as I had, but the lawyers Maverick brought in told me it was too risky. So, no more shared deed. No more ghost of Celine’s name on the papers.
I’m still unsure about my decision.
“Yes,” I reply simply.
“How does it feel?” she jeers.
“Bittersweet. I’d rather we shared it…but you never cared for the land, did you? Just what it could do for you.” I’m not accusing, just stating facts.
She shrugs. “Heard that you and Maverick are an item now.”
“Heard?”
She arches an eyebrow. “People still come and see me. Tate is very sorry about what he did…you know spillin’ the beans to the authorities.”
Well, Tate is much dumber than any of us gave him credit for.
Her lips curl. “You think you got Mav?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“When I’m out of here, I’ll take him away from you just like I did Hudson.”
There’s malice in her eyes. The sweet girl she used to pretend to be isn’t there anymore—but then she was a persona, this is the real woman.
“If it makes you feel better, you keep on thinkin’ that.”
Over the past few months, Maverick and I have grown closer. I know the man he is. He’ll never disrespect me. Never cheat on me. Never be dishonorable. I’m not worried about my place in Maverick’s life. I know I’m his queen!
Her chin lifts, defiant. “You always had everything. The brains. The charm. Even the cattle liked you more.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “What?”
Celine’s jaw clenches. “I hate you.”
“Why?” I ask, puzzled.
“You always made me feel like I wasn’t enough. But I convinced everyone that I was better than you. Sweet. Soft. Gentle. And prettier.”
I study her, feeling immense pity for how lost she is. “I thought you were better than me.”
“I am.”
“You’re speakin’ from both sides of your mouth, Celine. But it doesn’t matter. Longhorn is mine, and you’re here.”
She looks away, just for a second, but when she turns back, there’s a sneer in her demeanor. It’s ugly. I never saw it before, and now I can’t unsee it.
“I used to think I’d feel better if you admitted that you hated me.” All my life, I felt the weight of her disdain, Mama’s, and even Papa’s. “But now I see the truth.”
“Which is?” she asks as if bored, but there’s a glint of curiosity in her eyes.
“You don’t matter.”
“You think you’ve won?” Celine hisses, her voice barely above a whisper. “That cowboy’s gonna get bored with your pity party and walk. Just like everyone else.”
I rise, see her through the scratched plastic partition, see her discontent. I meet her eyes one last time.
“Goodbye, Celine.”
I walk out, spine straight, chest tight. The prison door clatters shut behind me.
I don’t look back.
Outside, the air is clean, free.
Maverick’s truck is waiting at the curb, engine idling. When I slide into the passenger seat, he starts the truck.
“Feel better?
“Yeah. Much.”
As he drives us home, the fields stretch wide and green around us, and I feel it for the first time in years: peace.