Chapter 2 – Colton
The negotiation’s going well enough, but my head’s not in it.
I sit across from Frank Davis in the auction office, nodding as he drones on about the delivery schedule for the new hay supplier. I should be paying attention. Should be double-checking the pricing against last year’s order. Should be thinking about freight costs and storage space.
Instead, I’m thinking about her.
Lacey Monroe.
She’s back in Shadowbrook.
The text from Mason had come in late last night, just before I turned in at the hotel. A simple message, nothing more than an update between neighboring ranchers, but it hit like a damn freight train.
She’s home. Staying with Wyatt for a while. Thought you’d want to know.
Hell yes, I wanted to know.
It’s been years since I’ve seen her in person. Years since that last hug goodbye when she headed off to chase her career in the city. We kept in touch—FaceTime calls, late-night texts, birthdays remembered—but distance has a way of dulling even the sharpest connection over time.
Except with Lacey, it never dulled.
If anything, the years apart only sharpened everything I’d kept buried long before she ever left.
Frank clears his throat, dragging my attention back to the present. “So, we can lock in delivery on the second Monday of next month. Does that work for you, Colton?”
I glance at the contract in front of me. The numbers are solid. It’s a good deal. Normally I’d haggle for sport, but right now I just want to wrap this up and hit the road.
“Second Monday works,” I say, reaching for the pen. “Let’s get it on paper.”
Frank chuckles, leaning back as I scribble my signature. “You’re easy to deal with, Colton. Your daddy raised you right.”
I give him a polite nod, though my mind is already racing ahead to what’s next. As soon as I’m done here, I’ve got about a four-hour drive back to the town of Willow Springs and my own Silver Creek Ranch. I’ve made that drive more times than I can count, but this one feels different.
This one’s bringing me home to her.
I stand and shake Frank’s hand, exchanging the usual polite small talk as we finish up the deal.
Once I’m out of the office, I waste no time crossing the gravel lot to my truck.
The late morning sun beats down on the hood, shimmering waves of heat rising from the metal, but I don’t care.
I’m already behind the wheel and firing up the engine before the door even fully closes.
The radio comes to life with some old George Strait song I can’t even process. All I can think about is the way Lacey used to sing along to this stuff when we were kids, her bare feet propped on the dash as we drove the back roads, laughing like the whole world belonged to us.
I grip the steering wheel tighter.
I always knew she’d come back one day.
Maybe not permanently, maybe not for good, but Shadowbrook has a way of calling people home. And Lacey, well, she was never meant for city life. I knew it the moment she left, but I kept my mouth shut. She needed to see it for herself.
And now she’s here.
I let out a long breath, forcing myself to loosen my grip on the wheel. No point in getting ahead of myself. She might only be back to help Wyatt and Rachel with the baby. It might just be a visit, nothing more.
But even so, this is the first time in years I’ll be able to stand in front of her, to see her face, to look into her eyes without a screen between us.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s finally time to settle some unfinished business.
I tap my thumb against the steering wheel, the memory surfacing like it always does.
If we’re still single at thirty, we’ll marry each other.
It started as a joke. We were teenagers, sitting under the stars after one of Mason’s bonfires at Shadowbrook. She was eighteen, wide-eyed and ready to take on the world. I was nineteen, already tied to the land, knowing exactly where my life would be rooted.
But for me, that promise had never been a joke.
Not really.
I’ve carried it with me all these years like a quiet truth neither of us dared to speak out loud again. Until now.
I check the clock on the dash. If I don’t hit traffic, I’ll be home before dark. Mason said she’s staying with Wyatt, but I’m betting she’ll be around the ranch plenty, helping out where she can.
Just like old times.
Except nothing about this feels like old times. The girl I watched drive away years ago isn’t the same woman who’s coming home now.
And the man waiting for her? I’m not the same either.
The years have given me clarity. And patience. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned running Silver Creek alongside my father, it’s that timing matters.
But patience only stretches so far.
I smile to myself as the miles slip beneath my tires, my pulse picking up with every one.
Lacey Monroe is back.
And this time, I don’t intend to let her slip away again.
Not without a fight.