Chapter 21
I hate when Elena’s right
Finn
I unrolled the window of the black car as we pulled up the long drive to the main house.
I’d forgotten how the ranch looked in early summer—green pastures stretching toward the Tetons, cow and bison grazing in fields that seemed to go on forever.
Wide-open space that made my chest loosen just breathing it in.
The front door flew open and my parents’ dog, Maggie, shot out like a missile, barking with all the enthusiasm in her furry silver body. She made a beeline for the car, tail helicopter-spinning, bouncing on her hind legs as I climbed out.
“Hey, girl,” I crouched down and let her assault me with kisses, her whole body wiggling with joy. For a dog I’d only met twice before, she acted like I was her long-lost owner. “Miss me?”
Dom laughed as he came around the car. “Pretty sure she likes you better than me, and I’m the one she’s seen more.”
“Military effect,” I said, scratching behind Maggie’s ears. “Herding dogs respect my authority.”
“You’re not in the military anymore, shit for brains.”
“Yeah well, she knows I’m not an asshole, asshole.”
My mother appeared next, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and grinning like she’d been watching us through the window since we’d turned into the drive.
“There are my boys,” she called out, already moving down the porch steps with purpose.
At sixty-five, Bridget Walker could still outwork most of the ranch hands, though these days she focused her energy on helping the restaurant and making sure everyone within a hundred-mile radius was properly fed and looked after.
She reached me first, pulling me into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed back, sighing in relief. “Let me look at you,” she leaned back to study my face. “You look good. Healthier than the last time I saw you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I slid my eyes to the side, thinking about the test results I’d read just an hour ago. “You look good too.”
“I look old and tired, but I appreciate you saying it anyway.” She moved to Dom, subjecting him to the same thorough examination. “And you’re too skinny. Both of you. Good thing I made extra for dinner.”
“We just got here,” Dom protested, but he was grinning. “Give us five minutes to unpack.”
“You can unpack later. Your father’s been pacing around the house for an age waiting to see you both.” She turned back toward the house, clearly expecting us to follow. “And Claire called from Denver. She’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
I grabbed my bag from the trunk, grateful to Dom for bringing me extra clothes from LA.
Maggie circled my legs like she was afraid I might disappear again.
The sounds of the ranch settled around us—horses nickering from the paddock, the distant hum of machinery from the barn, wind through the aspens that lined the drive.
“How long has it been since we were all here together?” Dom asked as we followed Mom up the porch steps.
“Over four years,” she said quietly. “Before Finn’s eighth deployment. Not that I was counting.”
The weight of time settled between us. Four years, an accident, a medical discharge, and months of recovery. Dom had visited the ranch a few times over the years, but this was only my second time back since that deployment.
The front door of the farmhouse opened into a large entry with the living room to the left—exposed beams and stone fireplace, comfortable furniture arranged for conversation rather than show.
Family photos covered most of the mantle.
Four generations of family working this land, building something that lasted—a legacy to which I might never be able to contribute.
My father appeared from the kitchen. Nolan Walker was built like the cowboys in old westerns—lean, weathered, could fix anything with enough time and the right tools.
And smarter than most men I knew, with a master’s degree in business that helped expand the ranch when he and my mom took over.
They’d added the lodge, turned the restaurant into an award-winning experience, and recently built the new event barn where Dom and Enzo were having their wedding.
Under their care, North Star Ranch had been upgraded to a vacation destination instead of just a working ranch.
“About time,” his voice was warm despite the light scolding. “Thought you boys forgot where you came from.”
“Just took the scenic route,” I accepted his handshake that turned into a bone-crushing hug.
“We decided to take a car in from the airport,” Dom added, accepting his own hug. “Saved Finn the headache from a helicopter ride.”
Dad clapped me on the shoulder, eyes turning serious. “How are you feeling? Really?”
“Better.” It was mostly true in the moment. “Still figuring some things out, but better.”
“Good,” he nodded once, accepting my assessment without pushing for details. “Not sure where your momma has you two sleeping, but you can drop your bags upstairs for now.”
Dom took my bag and disappeared up the stairs to the second story where all the bedrooms were.
I followed my dad into the living room. “How’s the ranch?”
“Busy. Spring calving went well, and we’ve got a good group of guests booked through August. El and your mother have the lodge running like clockwork. Restaurant too.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “She misses having you boys around, though she’d never admit it.”
“We missed being here too.”
“Even you?” Dad’s expression was carefully neutral. “Time before last you were here, you couldn’t wait to get back to base.”
He was right. My last visit before the accident had been rushed, tense, my mind already on the next deployment. I’d been Steady then—confident, focused, and certain about my place in the world. Now I was sitting in the same spot with a failing body and no clear path forward.
“Things change,” I said finally.
“They do,” Dad nodded. “Sometimes for the better.”
Before I could respond, Mom’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Finn! Come help me get this food to the table before it gets cold.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I responded automatically as Dom returned. Maggie jumped up to follow me.
My phone buzzed with another message. I glanced at it quickly—Alex responding to the text I’d sent her about landing.
Alex: glad you made it safely. give your family my love.
Her message sounded normal, upbeat even. Maybe I’d been reading too much into things this morning when she’d left for work without a word.
Mom handed me a serving dish and pointed toward the dining room buzzing with conversation.
The long oak table could seat twelve easily, and tonight it looked like we’d need nearly every chair.
Elowyn was setting the basket of rolls on the table as her husband, Luke, helped my grandmother.
Their three kids—Belle, Jack, and Lucas—moved around them in varying degrees of cleanliness from whatever adventure they’d been on earlier.
“Uncle Finn!” Belle spotted me first, abandoning her water-filling duties to launch herself in my direction. At thirteen, she was all legs and enthusiasm, her dark hair braided back from a face that was becoming less kid and more young woman.
“Hey, Belle,” I caught her in a hug, noting how much taller she’d gotten since I’d last seen her briefly a few months ago. “You helping run this place yet?”
“Trying to,” she grinned, “but Jack keeps messing up the horse schedules.”
“I do not!” Jack protested from where he was depositing napkins on every plate, eleven years old and all wounded dignity. “You just write everything too neat. Nobody can read it.”
“That’s called having good handwriting, dummy.”
“Belle,” Elowyn chided gently. “Your brother’s not a dummy.”
“Sorry.” Belle didn’t look particularly sorry as she returned to the water pitcher.
Lucas, nine and quieter than his siblings, offered me a shy wave before turning his attention back to arranging silverware in precise lines. Kid after my own heart—liked things organized and systematic.
At the end of the table, Móraí presided with the quiet authority of someone who’d help raise generations on this land. My grandmother was eighty-seven and still sharp as a tack, her white hair twisted into the same practical bun she’d worn my entire life.
“Finnegan,” she said, her Irish accent still evident after nearly seventy years in Wyoming. “Come give your gran a proper greeting.”
I leaned down to kiss her weathered cheek, breathing in the scent of lavender and the woodsmoke that seemed permanently embedded in her skin. “Good to see you, Móraí.”
“Sit here,” she patted the chair beside her. “Tell me about this girlfriend you’ve been hiding from us.”
Heat crept up my neck, but before I could answer, Mom reappeared with another serving dish, setting it on the table.
“Boys, there’s been a slight adjustment to sleeping arrangements.
Belle’s been helping me ready for Claire and Sarah tomorrow, and with all of us here.
..” She gestured around the crowded table.
“They’re going to take your old room upstairs.
You get the pullout sofa and air mattress in the family room, if that works. ”
“That’s perfect,” I sat beside Móraí. The small room off the kitchen sounded better than being tucked away upstairs—easier to escape if I needed air or quiet.
Dad appeared with a platter of sliced brisket that smelled like it had been smoking since yesterday, and suddenly everyone was passing dishes and filling plates with the efficiency of a family that knew how to feed a crowd.
“So,” Luke began as we settled into eating, “we got the final numbers and spring calving went better than expected. Only lost two, and that was weather-related, not health issues.”
“Numbers?” Dad asked.
“Hundred and forty-seven live births. Eight sets of twins.”
“Outstanding,” Dad nodded approval. “We still looking good on lodge bookings?”