Chapter 26
Jesse
If anyone had tried to convince me that Mack Hollister was dangerous, I would’ve laughed in their faces.
But it had been nearly a week since I’d punched him in the mouth and things were already getting out of hand.
First was the visit from the local sheriff who warned me that if I didn’t keep my hands to myself, there was gonna be trouble.
That would’ve been fine if he hadn’t stopped at the bottom of the porch, looked directly at Cole, and asked, “Y’all really sleepin’ together”?
That I could handle. However, I was not expecting the sudden rush of cancellations from local stores.
It seemed Mack had his hands in everyone’s pockets, and he was either convincing them our beef was bad or they shared his sentiments about gay men.
Either way, we lost three major carriers in a single day and that meant a sudden overstock of beef in the freezer.
Thankfully out-of-state sales hadn’t slowed down, but it was still a hit.
The third and final straw that broke Cole was the call he received from Mr. Whitaker.
Apparently, we were being called in for a formal review.
According to him, Mack Hollister had hired a lawyer himself and had him take a look at Jack’s will.
I had no idea how he’d managed it, but Mr. Whitaker and this new lawyer were being forced to work together to make sure that there had been no favoritism during our monthly visits.
Basically, we were being audited, plain and simple.
After that call, Cole disappeared into his room and locked the door.
The next morning when I got up, his truck was gone.
It had been two days since then and my gut was twisted into knots.
He wouldn’t pick up his phone, he wouldn’t answer my texts, and despite going into town myself searching for him, I couldn’t find a trace. He was just… gone.
I was so angry. More than I could say. Cole had promised me he wouldn’t run off again, that he wouldn’t just abandon me. But there I was, stuck at the ranch trying to do his job and mine while attempting to keep myself under control.
Both Evelyn and I were scared to death that Cole had gone and done something stupid. Every time my phone went off, I thought the worst. But it wasn’t until Mr. Whitaker and the new lawyer were schedule to show up that I finally saw Cole’s truck pull into the driveway.
I rushed out the front door and down the porch steps with Evelyn at my heels and anger seething in my chest.
Cole jumped out of the cab before the engine was even off. He looked like shit in an old t-shirt, yesterday’s jeans, and his hat pulled low to shade his face. Two days without shaving had left him patchy and mean, a wolf gone to feral. I barely made it off the porch before I was screaming at him.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” I shouted. I didn’t even try to keep the worry out of my voice, let alone the accusation. “You can’t just disappear like that!”
He moved past me, straight up the porch steps, careful not to meet my eyes. “I had business.”
“Business?” I grabbed his arm, spinning him around. “You haven’t answered my calls, you haven’t been home, and now the lawyers are coming up the drive and you wanna act like everything’s fine? That you haven’t been missing for two fucking days?”
Cole shook me off, but his hands were trembling. “I said I had something to do. Now quit squawkin’ and let’s just get this over with.”
Evelyn hovered at the top of the steps, her brows drawn tight together. “Cole, honey—”
He pushed inside, leaving the door swinging in the wind behind him. For a full second, I wanted to chase after him and tackle him right there on the living room rug and scream until he either hit me or told me the truth. Maybe both. Instead, I just followed, mind reeling.
The two lawyers, Whitaker and the new guy, a thin snake in a suit who looked like he’d never shoveled real shit for pay, arrived right on time.
Whitaker started with polite greetings, but his tone was grim.
The other lawyer was all smirks and questions, eyes flickering over our dust and blood like he could already see it on the auction block. Or something worse.
The audit started in the office, with both lawyers sitting across the desk from us like it was the world’s most fucked up job interview.
They asked for the books, the contracts, the inventory printouts.
I did most of the talking. Cole sat at the far end of the desk with his hands in his lap, silent unless directly spoken to.
The questions never let up… how did we split the work, what were our roles, who did the bookkeeping, why were jobs assigned the way they were. Did we ever have disagreements? How did we resolve them? Was there ever a time one of us left the other to handle things alone?
“Christ, is this about the beef sales or about us?” I finally snapped after the third time snake-guy dug into how we lived and worked together. “You wanna see my browser history, too?”
Whitaker gave me a look, the way a teacher does when you’re three seconds from detention. “It’s standard procedure, Jesse. There’s been a claim of… discord in the living arrangements.”
“You mean a rumor,” I shot back. “Started by Mack Hollister.”
Snake lawyer, Mr. Briggs was his name, smiled, showing off small too-white teeth.
“Rumors matter when it comes to the intent of the decedent. We must ensure the estate is being managed in accordance with Jack Nelson’s wishes.
” He glanced over at Mr. Whitaker. “An objective third-party was needed to check the reporting to make sure there was no favoritism made or clauses overlooked. We have to make sure Jack’s intentions for you boys and the ranch are being honored. ”
“You know what?” Cole said suddenly, surprising everyone. “I’m tired of this pussy-footing around and this talk of what my father meant with his will.” He looked Mr. Briggs directly in the eye. “Have you found a clause in my father’s will that says Jesse and I aren’t allowed to fuck?”
The air in the office went dead. I didn’t even have time to feel shock before a wicked pride snaked up my ribs.
This was the Cole I’d missed, the one who’d sooner torch the barn than tiptoe around a goddamn problem.
Even Whitaker looked momentarily stunned, while Mr. Briggs blinked twice, lips parting as if he’d been slapped.
Cole leaned forward, hands braced on the desk, and repeated: “Well? Is there a line in there says we gotta sleep in separate beds?”
Whitaker cleared his throat. “There’s… no such clause, Cole. The will expresses expectations of joint management and continuing the Nelson family legacy—”
“Which is what we’ve done,” Cole interrupted, chin out, eyes blazing. “Nobody cares about the rest except the kind of people who’d rather see the whole place burn than let a couple of queers run cattle on it.”
Even Evelyn, who’d lingered in the hallway pretending not to eavesdrop, let out a tiny laugh, so sharp she covered her mouth right after. I almost kissed her from across the room.
Mr. Briggs shuffled some papers with his bony fingers and said, “There are… potential moral turpitude issues, per Montana code, regarding the fitness of legatees—”
“Bullshit,” I cut in. “You can’t just come in here and say we’re unfit because you heard we might be fucking.
If we’d been running the business into the ground or crooks or drunks, maybe you’d have a case, but sales are up thirty percent since winter.
We’re the only thing keeping this place in the black, and Mack Hollister knows it.
He thinks he knew my daddy better than I did, but he’s got another fuckin’ thing comin’. ”
“You’re a clever boy, Jesse,” Briggs said with his reptile smile. “But the law cares about intent and the wishes of the deceased.”
Cole looked at me. In that moment, for the first time since he’d stormed back onto the porch, I saw him clearly.
He was strung on the edge of disaster, every muscle taut, bruised from days of hiding or wrestling with what I hadn’t dared imagine.
But he didn’t waver. He squared his shoulders and said, “My father loved this place, and despite what the valley thinks, he loved Jesse too. Every day of my fuckin’ life he told me the ranch came first, and it has.
I’d burn my own house down before I let a grudge or a rumor finish what he spent his life buildin’. ”
Something in Mr. Whitaker’s expression flickered.
He’d known Jack, too. And as odd as his will was, it was written with an affection toward the two of us that couldn’t be argued.
Whitaker looked at Briggs, then at me, then up at Cole.
“If the question is whether you two are conducting ranch affairs according to the will, I find nothing here to suggest otherwise.”
Briggs rolled his eyes. “I suppose you don’t find any issue with the recent fistfight, either? Or with the sudden drop in regional sales?”
“No, I don’t,” Whitaker shot back. “I see here two men working like dogs to keep this operation running and defending their honor.”
“Honor?” Mr. Briggs scoffed. “Do you really think a judge is going to defend moral disintegration and incest in his court?”
Mr. Whitaker let out a long sigh and turned to Cole. “Cole,” he said softly. “Is this what you want? Is this the kind of life you and Jesse wish to live?”
Cole didn’t blink. His hands were fists now, white-knuckled on the desk.
“You wanna hear it out loud? Fine.” He turned, eyes drilling into me like I was the only thing tethering him to that chair.
“Jesse’s the only family I got left. He’s the best thing that ever happened to this ranch, and to me.
If you think you can shame us out of a life that’s already paid for in blood, sweat, and bone, you’re kidding yourself.
” He exhaled, jaw tight, the muscle jumping under his stubble.
“I’d die before I handed Nelson Ranch to anyone but the man I want to build it with. So yes, Whitaker, this is what I want.”
The words rang off the paneling. Evelyn actually dabbed her eyes. But she didn’t move, didn’t leave the room. Instead, she stepped forward, placing a hand on our shoulders, showing she was on our side.
“Well,” Mr. Whitaker said, taking a yellow envelope out of his briefcase. “I suppose it’s time you got these then.”
He reached inside, producing two letters. One was addressed to me while the other was for Cole. Mine looked like it had been stamped to mail but never sent. Cole’s, however, was fresh and crisp, like it had never been read.
“What are these?” I asked, reaching across the table to take mine.
“Letters from Jack,” Mr. Whitaker nodded. “Letters that I’ve had attached to the will as evidence of his… intentions,” he added, glaring at Mr. Briggs. “I’ll make sure to get a copy for your case file.”
“I’ve seen that one before,” Cole said, glancing over at my letter. He looked back to Mr. Whitaker. “That’s the one he wrote to tell Jesse he was sick.”
“It is. But Jack asked me not to send it.”
Cole furrowed his brows. “Why? That was to get Jesse to come home… to let him visit dad before he…”
Mr. Whitaker nodded, a sad smile on his face.
“It was. And, if you’ll allow me a little bit of postulation, I think Jack wanted Jesse to remember him how he was.
He didn’t want Jesse seeing him bedridden and in hospice care after all these years.
” Mr. Whitaker turned to me, his eyes full of more understanding than I thought possible.
“Jack didn’t hate you or blame you for leaving, Jesse.
So, he didn’t think you needed to be forgiven.
But I’ll let you read the letter yourself. ”
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with these two… capitulating,” Mr. Briggs grunted. “Do these letters state that Jack wanted them to do this? That he approved of such a union?”
“Actually,” Mr. Whitaker nodded. “Yes.” He turned his attention to Cole. “It seems your father was a lot more observant than you thought, Cole.” He paused for a moment, letting it sink in. “It seems you and Jack had a lot more in common than you thought.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Mr. Briggs barked.
“Jack and Mack Hollister were lovers after his second wife died,” Mr. Whitaker replied. He turned to Mr. Briggs, a big smile on his face. “How’s that for a conflict of interest considering your client is the spurned lover of Jack Nelson?”