Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Construction Cuddles & Confessions
Cash
The ranch is quiet in the early light, just the way I like it. Dew clings to the tall grass, and the air carries that earthy scent of promise. Like the land knows we’re rebuilding something more than just fences. Hammering will start in an hour.
Billy Mac’s already got a list of materials long enough to wrap the barn twice, and Cody swore he’d wrangle a crew before breakfast. But for now, it’s just me, a mug of black coffee, and the soft sound of horses nickering from the stables.
Or it was, until the screen door creaks open behind me.
Avery steps out, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, hair a mess of waves from sleep. She looks like she belongs here, and not just in the porch light. She pads across the boards barefoot and settles into the rocker beside me.
“Morning,” I say, handing her the second mug I brought out just in case.
Her smile is faint, distracted. “Morning.” She rubs at the corner of her eye, then tucks her feet under herself in the chair without really settling. Her gaze flicks toward the road, then back down to her coffee like she’s afraid of what the morning might bring.
Something’s off. I see it in the way she bites the inside of her cheek. In the way she clutches that phone like it might whisper more than just words.
“You didn’t sleep,” I say.
She shakes her head. “As you know, Mason called. Last night.”
The name hits like a rusty nail. “Your dad’s lawyer?”
She nods, staring into her coffee. “He said there’s more. Something Dad didn’t include in the will. Something he left for me to decide.”
“Did he say what?”
“No. Just that it’s personal. And it has to be done in person.”
I study her, the way her gaze drifts to the hills beyond the fence line, the way her fingers tap the side of her cup like she’s trying to drum up courage.
“You want me to go with you?”
She hesitates. “I don’t know. Part of me feels like this is something I need to face alone.”
I nod slowly, trying not to let the twist in my gut show. I want to be there. Want to shield her from whatever weight’s about to land on her shoulders. But I get it. Some truths only unfold in solitude.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” I say, my voice steady.
Her eyes meet mine then, sharp and searching. “You always are.”
We sit in silence for a minute, just breathing the same air. Then Emmy bursts out the front door in her pajamas, boots half-on, holding a stuffed pony and shouting something about breakfast.
Avery laughs, the sound brittle at first, then genuine. She scoops Emmy into her lap and kisses her temple, and I swear I can see her grounding herself in that moment. In us.
Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it.
Even if it starts with her walking into the unknown.
The second Avery’s taillights disappear down the gravel road, I turn back to the barn with purpose gnawing in my chest. This place has been through a lot, storms, droughts, stubborn cattle, and stubborn people, but today, it starts becoming something new. Something hers. Ours.
Cody and Billy Mac are already at it when I get there. Levi’s pulling up in his truck with lumber stacked higher than Emmy’s pony. There are many familiar faces that were rounded up today to help.
“Morning, boss,” Cody calls, pushing his hat back and wiping sweat from his brow. “Got us enough wood to rebuild the barn and maybe a treehouse for Emmy too.”
“Let’s focus on the barn,” I say with a grin. “Treehouse comes later.”
The work settles into rhythm fast, nail guns popping like distant fireworks, hammers thudding with a steady beat that feels more like a heartbeat than noise, and wood slapping into place as if the ranch itself is exhaling and rebuilding with us.
The scent of cedar mixes with the earthy smell of churned dirt, and the sun climbs higher with every plank we raise. There’s a kind of peace in labor like this, the kind that keeps your hands busy and your mind just quiet enough to think.
But today, that quiet’s not peaceful, it’s restless.
I keep picturing Avery in that lawyer’s office, sitting across from Mason Reynolds with her back straight and her jaw set, bracing herself for whatever final twist Jack Blake left behind. I want to be there beside her. But I know she needs to do this on her own terms.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever she’s about to learn will change everything. Again.
Billy Mac whistles low as he hops down from the ladder. “Hey, when we’re done here, think we oughta paint the new side a bold color? Give the place some flair?”
“Let’s just keep it upright first,” I mutter.
He laughs, but Levi watches me a beat too long. “You alright?” he asks, voice low.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
He nods, like he knows better than to push. That’s what I like about Levi, he’s quiet, but he sees more than most. He won’t ask again, but he’ll be there when the time comes.
By midday, we’ve got two walls fully framed and a pile of sawdust that smells like progress. Emmy runs around the edge of the site with her stuffed pony, her giggles echoing across the pasture. Harper shows up with lemonade and a smirk, bossing the guys around like she owns the place.
She tosses me a bottle and plants herself on a nearby hay bale like it’s a throne. “What’s the status, Foreman Fancy Pants? You build me a wine cellar in that barn yet?”
“Depends. You supplying the wine?” I fire back, trying to keep it light.
She smirks. “Only if you’re pouring. And wearing that shirt that makes Avery drool.”
Cody snorts somewhere behind me. Billy Mac mumbles something about needing earplugs.
Harper leans in a little, dropping the sass just enough to show the worry underneath. “Seriously though, have you heard anything?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. She said Mason had something personal to give her. Whatever it is, I'm sure she will tell us.”
Harper sighs and pushes her sunglasses up into her hair. “That man never could do anything straight. Always some backdoor twist with lawyers and secrets.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, eyes drifting to the tree line again. “And I’ve got a feeling this one’s a doozy.”
But through it all, my eyes keep drifting to the road. Waiting.
Hoping.
Because while we’re out here rebuilding boards and beams, Avery’s digging through the past.
And something tells me she won’t come back the same.
By late afternoon, the sun’s dropped low enough to cast long shadows across the pasture, and most of the crew has peeled off for an early dinner. I’m sweeping out the new side of the barn, watching dust dance in the golden light, when I hear the unmistakable shuffle of small boots on hay.
“Cash?”
I turn. Emmy stands in the doorway, holding a plastic tiara in one hand and a juice box in the other.
“Hey, cowgirl. What’s the royal decree?”
She giggles, walks in like she owns the place, and settles herself on an overturned feed bucket near my boots.
“Mommy’s still gone.”
I nod, setting the broom aside. “She’ll be back soon.”
Emmy tilts her head. “Do you miss her?”
I crouch down in front of her, resting my elbows on my knees. For a second, my mind flashes to the sound of Avery’s laughter echoing through the porch, the way her hand fits in mine like it’s always belonged there. The house feels too quiet without her in it. “Yeah. I do.”
She considers this, then hands me the tiara. “You can borrow this till she gets back.”
I blink at it, then grin. “Wow. That’s a serious honor.”
“You’re welcome,” she says solemnly. “But you gotta promise to wear it.”
So I do. Right on top of my cowboy hat. She claps and laughs so hard she nearly spills her juice.
We spend the next hour doing odd little tasks together, stacking feed, brushing down Buttercup-her favorite pony. She hums as she works, the tune off-key but sweet. Every so often, she glances at the road, like she’s waiting too.
Eventually, we settle on the porch steps with popsicles. Emmy sits close, her shoulder pressed to me, her little legs swinging in time with some song only she hears.
“Are you gonna stay forever?” she asks quietly, catching me off guard.
I look at her. “You want me to?”
She nods, eyes wide and serious. “Mommy smiles more when you’re here.”
Something shifts in my chest, deep and certain. I wrap an arm around her and pull her close. “Then yeah, I think I will.”
She leans into me without another word, and for a few minutes, the whole world feels simple. Like this is what it was all building toward, trust, family, and a future you don’t see coming until it’s right there in front of you.
And maybe, just maybe, a tiara on your head to remind you what really matters.
Later that evening, Emmy’s tucked in and the stars are starting to blink awake. I’m on the porch nursing a beer when I hear the crunch of gravel in the drive. Headlights sweep across the pasture, and I’m on my feet before the engine cuts.
Avery steps out, slow and tired-looking, but her eyes find mine first. And whatever she’s carrying, she sets it down the second I pull her into my arms.
“You okay?” I ask, voice low against her hair.
She nods, then pulls back just enough to look up at me. “It’s a lot. But I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to be here.”
So we sit, legs tangled on the porch swing, her head on my shoulder, silence settling like a soft blanket. The only sound is the chirp of crickets and the occasional creak of the swing.
After a while, she shifts to face me. “You ever think about what this place could be, five, ten years from now?”
“All the time,” I admit. “You go first.”
She grins sleepily. “Alright. I want that barn finished and full, horses we’ve trained ourselves. Kids coming out to learn, maybe even a couple riding competitions. Emmy running the place by the time she’s twelve.
I chuckle. “Twelve’s a little ambitious.”
“You haven’t met her ambition, oh yeah, and I remember what you said about helping handicap kids ride ponies. That makes my heart happy.”
I nod. “True.”
“I want to fix up the bunkhouse too,” she adds. “Make it livable again. Maybe hire on a few full-time trainers. And I want a front gate that says Painted Sky Ranch in big, bold letters. So people know this place matters.”
“It already does,” I say.
She reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “What about you?”
I take a breath. “I want to build a proper arena. Big enough for rodeo nights. Teach Emmy how to rope. Maybe host events, fundraisers, stuff that brings the town together.”
A beat passes.
“And I want a house,” I add, then pause, swallowing down the flutter in my chest. Saying it out loud feels big, like crossing a line into a future I didn’t know I wanted until her.
“One with a wraparound porch and a kitchen big enough for dance parties in our socks. One where you wake up next to me every morning.”
She’s quiet for a second. Then she shifts a little closer, brushing her thumb along the inside of my wrist. Her eyes search mine like she’s weighing the risk of what comes next.
“I love you, Cash,” she says, voice quiet but steady. No hesitation. No looking away.
The words settle over me like rain after drought, unexpected, needed, and entirely perfect.
I tilt her chin gently so she’s looking straight at me. “I love you too, Avery. More than I ever thought I could.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “We're gonna build that dream, one nail, one fence post, one sunset at a time.”
She leans into me, and the swing rocks gently, carrying us forward into something that finally feels like more than a maybe.
Something that feels like home.
But just as we settle into that easy stillness, Avery’s phone buzzes again on the table beside us. She glances at the screen, her body tensing.
“It’s Mason,” she says quietly.
I shift toward her. “You gonna answer?”
She hesitates, then picks it up and presses it to her ear. “Hey… yeah, I’m here.”
I can’t hear what he says, but I watch her expression change, brows pulling tight, lips parting like she’s just been sucker punched.
You can hear him hang up and she lowers the phone slowly, blinking hard. “Cash… there’s something else,” she says, her voice thinner than before, like she’s trying to keep it steady and failing.
Her eyes are wide, blinking fast, and she presses her palm against her chest like she’s bracing for something heavy. “And it’s not just about the ranch.”
The porch swing creaks beneath us, suddenly feeling a whole lot less steady.