Chapter 4
Chapter four
Hazel
We work through the afternoon—fence lines, feed bins, the endless small repairs that keep a ranch running. Chace moves alongside me with easy commentary, never pushing when I go quiet.
It comes back faster than I expect, my body remembering rhythms my mind had tried to forget.
The south fence line is worse up close. Posts lean at tired angles, their bases chewed away by weather and time.
Boards have been patched and re-patched, newer wood bolted onto older grain in a way that holds for now but won't forever.
I kneel in the dirt and run my hand along a cracked rail, feel where it bows under pressure.
"I knew it was rough," I say quietly. "I just didn't realize how much."
Chace shrugs, driving a post deeper with a practiced swing. "Hard to keep up when it's just one person trying to do everything."
He doesn't need to say my dad's name.
We work in companionable silence, replacing what we can, reinforcing the rest. Not enough to fix the problem, but enough to keep it from getting worse.
I watch Chace lift another post, the way he shifts his grip to favor his good shoulder.
"I should've called," I say. "After your accident. Shae told me and I just... didn't."
He pauses, then shrugs. "You were busy being a fancy city girl. Couldn't risk associating with a washed-up cowboy."
"Chace—"
"I'm kidding." He grins, eyes mischievous. "Water under the bridge, Haze."
"Still. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well." He drives the post deeper with a decisive hit. "You're here now. That counts for something."
The moment settles between us, and just like that, we’re good.
"Boarders used to be full, right?" I ask.
Chace leans against the rail, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. "Back when your dad was training full-time. Folks want someone active, someone competing." His mouth tips into a rueful smile. "Hard to keep business without it."
The weight of it settles then—how much has been slipping away while I've been gone, how much has been held together with nothing but grit and stubbornness.
I don't see Eli again all afternoon. The absence gnaws at me more than I want to admit.
By the time the sun begins to dip, we're loading tools back into the barn when the sound reaches us—the rhythmic thud of hooves from the east, growing louder as dust kicks up along the road.
Chace shades his eyes, squinting. "That'll be Addie."
The horse pulls up beside the barn in a cloud of dust, moving fast enough to make a point. Addie swings down in one smooth motion, boots hitting the ground with purpose. No greeting, no wave. Just a sharp sweep of the yard that lands on me and sticks for a beat too long.
“Have you seen my brother?" she asks, and her voice is different than I remember—lower, more assured, like she's used to being listened to.
The last time I saw Addie Dawson, she was fresh out of high school, all sharp edges and big opinions.
Now she's grown into someone else entirely—hair dark and loose down her back, chin up, shoulders back.
She moves like she's used to being the best rider in any arena and knows it.
Beautiful, but in a way that dares you to say something about it.
She barely glances at me, but I catch the assessment. Quick, thorough, dismissive.
Fair enough. I left.
"Have you seen Eli?" she asks again, this time directed at both of us.
Chace grins wide. "Wow. Not even a 'hey Chace, you're looking sexy as fuck today.'"
She doesn't even look at him. "Have you seen Eli?"
"I'm great, thanks for asking," Chace continues, unbothered. "Had a real productive day. Fixed some fence, hauled some feed—"
"Chace." Her voice is flat, but there's a warning in it.
Addie finally turns to face him fully, and I catch the exact moment her patience snaps. "Do you ever stop talking? Like, genuinely. Is it a choice, or is it some kind of medical condition?"
"Little of both," Chace says cheerfully.
I bite back a smile, watching them. The tension is obvious—the way he needles her just to get a rise, the way she bristles even as she stays put. She's fighting not to crack, and he knows it.
"Haven't seen Eli since this morning," Chace supplies. "Man's been making himself scarce."
Addie mutters something under her breath that sounds distinctly uncomplimentary.
Chace's grin widens. "What was that?"
"Nothing you need to hear."
"Come on, you can tell me." He takes a step closer. "We're friends, right?"
"We’re absolutely not friends."
“Ouch.” He clutches his chest. “You’re really doing a number on my self-esteem today.”
"Your self-esteem could survive a nuclear blast," Addie shoots back, but there's something in her voice now—not quite amusement, but close.
Chace catches it too. "Was that almost a joke, Addie? Are we bonding?"
"No."
"Pretty sure we are."
She opens her mouth—probably to say something cutting—but the sound of hooves interrupts. Both of them turn, and I catch the brief flicker of relief on Addie's face before she schools it back to neutral.
Eli rides in from the low pasture without any sense of urgency, dust rising in his wake as he slows near the barn. He swings down in one fluid motion, reins loose in one hand, and his eyes lift immediately to his sister.
“Looking for me?" he asks.
“You're still helping me load up tonight, right?" She doesn't wait for an answer before her gaze shifts to me. "You should come. To the rodeo."
I blink. "Tonight?"
"Yeah." Something in her expression softens slightly. "Plus everyone's going to be there anyway."
"She's not going." Eli snaps.
The words drop like a stone.
I turn slowly. Eli's jaw is set, eyes fixed somewhere past my shoulder.
"Excuse me?" I keep my voice level.
"Long day. You've been working since morning." He still won't look at me. "You should rest."
"I'm fine."
"You don't know these people anymore." His voice is flat. "Things have changed."
Heat flares in my chest. "You don't get to decide where I go."
Silence drops hard between us.
Chace shifts his weight, trying not to grin. Addie watches us with open interest, head tilted like she's enjoying this.
Eli's jaw is so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't crack.
"I'd love to come," I say firmly, eyes never leaving Eli's face. "Thank you for the invite."
"Good," Addie says, warmth threading through her earlier suspicion. "Chace’ll swing by at eight to get you." She offers for him.
"Perfect." I smile at her, then turn that smile on Eli—bright and sharp. "See you there."
He doesn't respond. Just watches me with those dark eyes that used to know every thought in my head.
I turn and head for the house, boots striking dirt with more force than necessary.
Behind me, Chace's laughter carries. "This is gonna be fun!"
I don’t give Eli the satisfaction of looking back. I push through the back door and let it swing shut behind me.
The house greets me with familiar sounds—the low hum of the fridge, the creak of floorboards, the faint clatter of something on the stove.
Mae stands at the counter, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pot. She glances over when I come in.
"Going to the rodeo tonight," I say, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.
"With Eli and Chace?"
"Yeah."
Mae nods once. "Good. You should go."
I fill the glass with water, down half of it. Something in my chest loosens.
"Eli tried to tell me I couldn't," I add, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
Mae's stirring doesn't pause. "He's got a lot on his plate. Give him time."
"I know." I set the glass down. "But he doesn't get to tell me what to do."
"No," Mae agrees. "He doesn't." She glances over. "But try not to poke the bear just because you can."
Despite myself, I almost smile. "No promises."
"Didn't think so." She turns back to the stove. "Have fun tonight."
I head down the hall, feeling steadier than I did two minutes ago.
I make it to my room and shut the door behind me, leaning against it with eyes closed.
He has every right to be angry. Doesn't mean I have to let him control me while he works through it.
I push off the door and strip out of my clothes, irritation buzzing under my skin.
I reach for the jeans folded on the bed—dark denim, the kind that hug every curve like a second skin. I know exactly what I'm doing when I button them. Know exactly how they fit.
The blouse comes next. White, soft, dipping just enough at the neckline to be intentional. I roll the sleeves to my elbows, exposing sun-browned forearms.
Then my boots. The good ones.
I pull them on and stand, turning toward the mirror.
There. Not the girl who left. Not the corporate consultant who learned to smooth her edges.
Montana Hazel doesn't apologize.
Outside, a truck engine idles.
I grab my jacket, leave it open, and step out into the warm evening air. Chace leans against his truck, hat tipped back, grin already waiting.
"Damn, Hazel," he says. "Guess the ranch hasn't dulled your edge."
I smile brightly. "You ready?"
"Born ready."
I climb into the passenger seat and buckle in as Chace pulls away from the house. The ranch disappears behind us, darkness settling over the road ahead.
I stare out, jaw tight.
There was a time Eli would've been the first person I called about going to a rodeo. Would've met me at the truck with that half-smile he saved for when it was just us, would've bought me a beer and stood close enough that I felt his presence all night.
Now he's the person trying to stop me from going at all.
I don't know which version hurts more—the one I lost, or the one I'm stuck with now.
The truck slows as we reach the fairgrounds. Dust and noise and laughter, the smell of fried food and sweat hitting me all at once.
I step down from the truck and square my shoulders, boots hitting the ground with purpose.
If Eli wants to act like I'm a problem, I'll meet him exactly as I am—unapologetic, uncontained, and very much my own person.
Let him be angry.
I'm done asking permission.