Unbound (The Ranch US #1)

Prologue

Theo

Thousand Oaks Skilled Nursing Facility looked exactly like what it was—a place where hope came to die.

The building matched my mood—a squat two-story structure with faded brick and windows that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it.

The parking lot was half-empty when I pulled in, my beat-up Honda Civic looking right at home among the other weathered vehicles.

I sat for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel. Staring at the entrance, my stomach twisted into a familiar knot. Three months since the accident, and I still couldn't walk through those doors without feeling like I was betraying my brother by leaving him here.

Just get over it, Theo.

The lobby greeted me with its usual fluorescent buzz and the faint sound of a television somewhere down the hall.

But it was that sharp, antiseptic scent that always hit me first. I'd grown to hate it over the past few months, the way it clung to my clothes after each visit, how it followed me home like an unwelcome shadow.

Mrs. Patel, the receptionist who'd been here since the Reagan administration from the looks of it, glanced up from her crossword puzzle. “Theo,” she said, her voice warm despite the institutional setting. “Glad to see you, hon. Casey's been asking for you.”

I signed the visitor log with mechanical precision, my signature a pale imitation of what it had been before all this started. Before I'd become someone whose entire life revolved around hospital visits and insurance forms.

“Janet said he did well in PT today,” Mrs. Patel offered, trying to lift my spirits.

I managed a smile. “That's great.”

The hallway to Casey's room stretched before me like a gauntlet. Room 117. I'd memorized every crack in the linoleum on the way there, every water stain on the ceiling. The journey never got easier.

Outside his door, I paused to compose myself. Casey needed his little brother, the one person in the world who was supposed to have his back.

To help him get to who he used to be.

I knocked twice—our childhood signal—and pushed open the door. “Hey, Case.” I said, forcing brightness into my voice. “I heard you crushed PT today.”

Casey turned his head toward me, and I caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes. A good day, then. Thank God. “Theo,” he said, his voice slurred but clear enough. “You're late.”

I wasn't, but his sense of time wasn't what it used to be. “Traffic,” I lied, moving to sit in the chair beside his bed. “How are you feeling?”

Casey Bennett, my big brother, my protector, my hero—looked at me with eyes that still held traces of the person he'd been before a skiing accident had robbed him of himself.

His once-athletic frame had withered, and his dark hair had been cut short for easier care.

At thirty-one, he looked both younger and older than his age, a contradiction that made my chest ache every time I saw him.

“My head hurts,” he said. “But Janet says I'm getting st-stronger.”

I reached out and clapped his shoulder. “That's what I hear too. You're doing great, Case.”

The words felt hollow, but what else could I say? That I was terrified by how little progress he'd made? That I was about to leave for a job that would make me feel like the worst brother in the world?

“Did you b..b…bring ice cream?” Casey asked, a childlike hope in his voice.

I swallowed hard. “Not today. But I promise I'll bring some when I get back.”

His brow furrowed. “Back from where?”

And there it was, the conversation I'd been dreading. I squeezed his hand. “Remember I told you about that job in Florida? The one that pays a lot of money?”

Casey stared at me for a moment before recognition dawned. “The... the fishing job?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, relieved I wouldn't have to explain it all again. “I leave tomorrow morning. But it's only for a month or two, and then I'll be back with enough money to get you into that rehabilitation center Dr. Mercer recommended.”

Casey's eyes drifted toward the window. “Florida,” he repeated, as if testing the word. “Is it warm there?”

“Yeah, it gets hot,” I said, grateful for the shift in topic. “And humid too.”

“I liked the beach when we went... when we went...” He trailed off, frustration crossing his features as the memory slipped away.

“When we went to Santa Monica for your twenty-fifth birthday,” I finished for him. “You tried to teach me to surf, remember? I was terrible.”

“You stood up once.”

I laughed, happy that he remembered. “For about half a second before I face-planted like a dork.”

The memory hung between us, a reminder of the life we'd had before. Casey had always been the cool, adventurous one—skiing, surfing, rock climbing—while I'd been the scared little brother, never quite matching his fearlessness but willing to try because he believed I could.

Now our roles had reversed. He depended on me now, and I was doing a piss-poor job of being the rock he needed.

“Theo?” Janet's voice came from the doorway. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I squeezed Casey's hand again. “Be right back, okay? Don't go anywhere.”

It was our old joke, from when we were kids and he'd leave me behind to hang out with his friends. The humor fell flat now, but Casey's lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile.

In the hallway, Janet Reynolds, Casey's primary nurse and the closest thing to an ally I had in this place, led me a few steps away from the door. “He did well today,” she said, her voice low. “Made it almost to the end of the hall with the walker.”

“That’s progress, right?” I asked, but deep down, a voice whispered that this was all taking too long.

Janet's expression was carefully neutral. “It's progress. I know it feels slow going right now,” Janet said, reading my expression. “But I've seen patients make remarkable recoveries with the right support. The brain is incredibly adaptive.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Not adaptive enough to work with our bank account.” The last statement from Casey's insurance company sat on my kitchen counter at home, the denial of extended coverage highlighted in clinical yellow to make sure I didn’t miss it.

Yeah, thanks.

Janet glanced down the hall, then leaned closer. “Look, I've seen patients like Casey before. They need time and consistency.”

“Eight weeks,” I murmured. “That's how long we have before I have to figure out something else.” Just thinking about that made me feel sick.

“Have you heard anything from that rehab center in San Diego?” Janet asked.

I could practically recite Dr. Mercer's specialized rehabilitation program brochure from memory now, the one that cost more than a year of college tuition. “They're saying they might have a spot for him opening up in the next couple of months.”

Her eyes held mine, searching. “That's good. Lucky for you both that this fishing job in Florida pays really well.”

My stomach clenched. The lie about fishing had been the best I could come up with, to explain why I’d be out of contact for days on end. I couldn't tell her, or anyone here, what I'd actually be doing at The Ranch. “Yeah,” I managed. “It does. Enough to get us in the door of the rehab center.”

After that, I'd have to figure out something fast.

“I know you hate leaving him here, but we'll take good care of him while you're gone. And you can call anytime to check in. Casey is lucky to have a brother like you who cares so much about his recovery.”

The irony wasn't lost on me. Casey had always been the one making sacrifices for me.

Now he needed me. “Thanks,” I said, grateful for her kindness. “I should get back to him.”

When I returned to the room, Casey was staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles under his breath. “Twenty-four, twenty-five...”

“Still twenty-five,” I said, resuming my seat. “Same as last time.”

Casey's eyes found mine. “You're leaving.”

It wasn't a question.

“Just for a few weeks,” I repeated. “It's a great job opportunity. We'll be swimming in dough when I'm done.” I smiled wryly. “Get it? Swimming? Fishing job?”

“I don't want you to go.” His voice had taken on that childlike quality again, the one that made him sound so unlike the brother who'd taught me to drive, who'd punched his best friend Tommy for calling me a fag, who'd always been my fiercest defender.

My heart dropped, but I forced a smile. “I know, Case. But I need to do this. For both of us.”

His eyes filled with tears, another change from the Casey I'd grown up with, who had cried twice that I could remember—when our mom left and when our dad died.

“What if you don't come back?” he asked, his fear naked and raw.

“Hey,” I leaned closer and kissed his forehead. “Not happening. I’ll always come back for you. You're my brother.”

Casey's hand gripped mine tight. “Promise?”

“I promise,” I told him. “And when I do, we'll celebrate with rocky road ice cream.”

A small smile lit his face. “My favorite.”

“I remember.”

The afternoon wore on, and I stayed longer than I'd planned, watching the Padres come back from behind to beat the Yankees, helping Casey eat his bland hospital dinner, and showing him funny posts from Instagram and TikTok just to watch him laugh.

It was nearly eight when Janet appeared again. “Visiting hours are over, Theo,” she said gently. “And Casey needs his rest.”

I nodded, knowing she was right, but reluctant to leave. Tomorrow I'd be on a plane, and the next time I saw my brother would be after I'd done things I could never tell him about.

“I have to go now,” I told Casey, standing and stretching my stiff muscles. “But I'll call you soon, okay?”

Casey looked momentarily confused. “You're leaving?”

“Just for tonight,” I said, my heart sinking at his disorientation. “I'll call you tomorrow from Florida as soon as my plane lands.”

“Florida,” he repeated, then his face cleared. “The job. The fish.”

“The fish, that's right.”

He reached for my hand one more time. “Be careful, Theo. Don't talk to strangers.”

I laughed despite myself. If you only knew, Case. “I'll do my best.”

As I leaned down to hug him goodbye, he whispered in my ear, “I'm sorry.”

I pulled back to look at him. “Sorry for what?”

“For being broken. For m-making you do this.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “Casey, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.” I should have been with you.

His eyes, so like my own, held a clarity that belied his condition. “...'supposed to t-take care of you. Not—” He shook his head and pointed a shaky finger at me.

Fuck. I couldn't speak past the tightness in my throat, so I just hugged him again, fiercely, hoping that was enough. “I'll be back before you know it,” I finally managed.

“With rocky road,” he added, the smallest hint of his old self shining through.

“With rocky road.”

The drive home was a blur, my mind replaying Casey's words on an endless loop. I'm sorry. For being broken. For making you do this.

My apartment, when I finally reached it, felt emptier than usual.

It was a studio barely big enough for a bed and a kitchenette, with paper-thin walls and neighbors who fought loudly at all hours.

But it was all I could afford after draining our collective funds to cover Casey's initial medical bills.

I collapsed onto my bed without bothering to undress, staring at the cracked ceiling. Tomorrow I'd be flying to Texas, not Florida, to work at an exclusive ‘resort’ that catered to wealthy men seeking 'companionship' from other men.

The twelve-week contract that I’d signed from The Ranch was explicit in its vagueness: “companionship” could include “whatever you're comfortable with.” The interview had been more direct.

They wanted young, attractive men willing to please their wealthy clients.

The pay was enough to make me swallow my pride and sign the contract.

I rolled onto my side, watching headlights from the street create moving patterns on my wall. Was I really going to do this? Let strangers touch me? Use me? The thought was unsettling, but then Casey's face flashed in my mind—confused, vulnerable, depending on me.

For Casey, I could do anything. It was just a couple of months.

Enough to get him into that rehabilitation center, to give him a fighting chance at something closer to his old life.

And the money was good—damn good. If things went well, maybe I could stay longer, make enough to support both of us until he was better.

My phone buzzed with a text from the airline, confirming my 7 AM flight. In a few hours, I'd be on my way to Dove Canyon Ranch and Resort, leaving behind my hometown to enter a world I still couldn’t believe existed out there. Every second felt like a countdown.

What would I do if I didn't get the money in time?

Be careful, Theo. Don't talk to strangers.

I closed my eyes, Casey's childlike warning echoing in my head. Too late for that, big brother. Way too late.