Chapter 25 #2
Izzy closed her eyes against the brightness of the afternoon. “Not really.”
“Yeah,” Caitlin said softly, her voice thick with years of understanding. “That’s about what I figured.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly, protectively against Izzy’s arm. “Walk with me?”
Izzy hesitated, her lungs burning with the dry mountain air. Then she nodded. “Yeah.”
They stepped off the porch together, their boots soft on the gravel as they moved down toward the side path that curved along the edge of the ridge.
They walked in silence for the first dozen steps, the gravel soft underfoot, the sharp drop of the ridge opening out wide and endless beside them. Caitlin didn’t rush it. She knew her best friend too well to push for a clean version before she was ready to hear it.
Finally, “What happened?” Caitlin asked. Simple. Quiet.
Izzy let out a short, humorless sound, her hands shoving deep into her pockets. “I got fired.”
Caitlin stopped dead in the middle of the dirt path. “What?”
Izzy turned to face her, hands settling onto her hips like she needed the physical alignment to hold herself up.
“The investors decided I wasn’t the right ‘long-term direction’ for the gallery,” she said, her fingers air-quoting the words with bitter precision.
“Apparently, having actual standards is a liability in Denver now.”
Caitlin stared at her, her expression fracturing into immediate shock. “That is completely insane.”
“Yeah,” Izzy said, looking out over the peaks. “It’s a bloodbath.”
Caitlin’s expression shifted—the initial shock fading into something more focused, more careful. She stepped closer, her voice dropping into a serious, guarded clip.
“And Grant?”
Izzy gave a short, jagged laugh that didn’t have any warmth in it. “Also not my biggest fan today.”
Caitlin didn’t laugh. She didn’t let it slide. She stepped right into Izzy’s space, her eyes narrowing a fraction.
“Did something happen, Iz? Really?”
Izzy looked away immediately. Too fast.
Caitlin winced. “With Grant?” she pressed.
Izzy crossed her arms tightly, her gaze fixed on the blue mountains like they might offer an exit.
“That’s not the point,” Izzy said, her voice turning cold.
“That is the point,” Caitlin replied softly.
A long beat.
“I know you, Iz,” Caitlin added, her hand finding Izzy’s shoulder. “You don’t pack a heavy suitcase over a bad corporate business call. Don’t give me the clean version.”
The line landed hard, knocking the last of Izzy’s defenses loose. Her shoulders dropped.
“There was a… moment,” she said finally.
Caitlin didn’t react right away. She didn’t interrupt.
“Last night,” Izzy added, the admission sounding small against the vastness of the valley.
Caitlin’s brows lifted, a spark of realization hitting her eyes. “A moment.”
Izzy huffed a quiet, self-conscious laugh. “Don’t make it sound romantic, Cate.”
“I’m not,” Caitlin said gently. “I’m trying to understand why you’re halfway out the door.”
Izzy hesitated, her fingers tracking the seam of her trousers.
“It wasn’t nothing,” she whispered. “And this morning he made it very clear it needed to stay that way.”
Caitlin’s expression hardened, a flash of pure Scott anger touching her face. “He actually said that?”
“Not in so many words,” Izzy said, her voice dropping. “But close enough for me to read the subtext.”
A beat.
“He doesn’t get to do that,” Caitlin muttered, looking back toward the house.
Izzy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if it’s the sole reason you’re running away.”
“I’m not running!” Izzy snapped, her eyes bright with the sting of the day. Then, softer, her voice cracking. “It’s not just that, Cate.”
Caitlin held her gaze, steady and unyielding. “Okay. Then tell me what it is.”
Izzy looked out over the ridge again. The mountains. The raw land. The place that had started to feel—dangerously—like something she didn’t want to lose.
“I don’t belong here,” she said finally.
Caitlin didn’t miss a beat. “That is absolutely not what I’m seeing.”
Izzy let out a quiet, tired breath. “Well, that’s what he’s seeing.”
The admission sat between them, solid in the mountain air. Caitlin studied her for a long second, taking in the defiant set of her shoulders and the exhaustion underneath.
“And you’re just going to let some stubborn cowboy decide that for you?”
Izzy didn’t answer. Because that was the problem. She didn’t know.
Caitlin’s voice softened, losing its edge as she squeezed Izzy’s arm. “Hey.”
Izzy looked back at her.
“You can be mad,” Caitlin said, her eyes shining. “You can be hurt. You can even decide this whole mountain isn’t worth the trouble.” A beat. “But don’t you dare walk away just because some stubborn cowboy doesn’t know what to do with you.”
Izzy huffed out a breath despite herself, a small, involuntary smile breaking through the tension. “That is… aggressively accurate.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin said, her own mouth tipping up.
The quiet that followed was lighter this time, the air easier to breathe. Then Izzy’s expression shifted, the curator’s focus returning to her eyes—subtler, sharper, more dangerous.
“Burke reopened the case,” she said quietly.
Caitlin nodded slowly. “Yeah. He did.”
Izzy crossed her arms again—but this time it wasn’t a defense mechanism. It was calculation.
“The cabin didn’t feel right, Cate. The canvases didn’t look like someone who just… chose to leave her life behind. And now this—Hollis, the land, everything tied together in the dark.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m done here.”
Caitlin’s smile curved, knowing and satisfied. Not surprised at all. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you were either.”
Izzy glanced back toward the house. Toward the porch steps. Toward the suitcase sitting exactly where she’d left it on the porch.
“Also,” Caitlin added, a familiar edge of humor slipping in, “you don’t get fired and run home with your tail between your legs. That’s not the Moreno way.”
Izzy snorted, the sound clean. “No,” she said. “It isn’t.”
“Good,” Caitlin said. “Because I’d have to disown you, and I don’t have time for a new best friend.”
The line earned a real laugh—small, but completely genuine. Izzy looked back toward the farmhouse one more time, her focus landing on the dark window where she knew Grant was waiting. Toward everything she hadn’t figured out yet.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice regaining its steady, unyielding line. “I’m staying.”
* * *
Burke leaned his lower back against the porch rail, his thumbs hooked into his belt beside his star, watching the two women down along the ridge path.
The screen door creaked. Grant stepped out of the house, stopping the moment he saw his brother.
“Sheriff.”
“Scott.”
They stood there side by side in silence, both looking out toward the drop-off where Caitlin and Izzy were talking. Burke didn’t look over when he spoke, his voice level.
“Went for it, huh?”
Grant’s hands shoved deep into his pockets. “What?”
Burke finally turned his head, his eyes steady under the brim of his hat. “You heard me.”
Grant looked away. “You’re making assumptions, Burke.”
Burke let out a quiet breath, turning back to the ridge. “Am I?” His gaze slid back toward Izzy’s distant silhouette. “That look on her face… and yours? Doesn’t come from a bad business call, brother.”
The quiet stretched long across the porch. Grant didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it either. Burke watched him another second, measuring the rigid tension in his shoulders. Not pushing—but not backing off.
“Just don’t make it my problem.”
Grant exhaled through his nose, his eyes fixed on the path. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.”
Down the ridge, Izzy and Caitlin turned and started back toward the house. Grant’s focus shifted instantly, his eyes tracking her alignment. Burke was watching him. Of course, he was.
“She staying?” Burke asked.
Grant didn’t look at him. “Looks like it.”
Burke nodded once, a definitive movement that confirmed more than it answered. “Alright then.”
Grant cut a sharp look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Burke pushed off the porch rail, adjusting his hat as he turned toward the door. “It means things just got a hell of a lot more complicated,” he said over his shoulder. “For everybody.”
He stepped inside, the screen door clicking shut behind him.
Grant stayed exactly where he was on the steps, watching her walk back up the gravel drive, his heart thudding heavy and uneven. He was not nearly as unaffected as he wanted to be.
He never had been.