Chapter 22
twenty-two
Gage
While driving to Fred’s place, thoughts keep creeping up inside of me about what I’m going to do when I see his face.
Honestly, I want to punch the guy, but what will that do besides land me with an assault charge? It wouldn’t solve any of the problems I’m already drowning in.
I guess I can add another thing Sloane has changed in me. Before her, I probably would’ve just punched him without a second thought.
I’d have done everything possible to make his life a living hell, consequences be damned—but now I’m thinking about what comes after, and what that kind of choice would mean in the long run.
First off, he had no idea what he was in for. He doesn’t even have the slightest clue that I know what he did, and I’m convinced he’ll deny it until he’s blue in the face. He can’t, though.
I have the footage to prove it—his slimy, bearded face plastered across the computer screen back at the ranch. Every piece of evidence will be handed over, and when it is, his life as he knows it is done.
I wish I could find enjoyment in that, but honestly, all I feel is a tight, uncomfortable knot of regret.
For as long as I’ve known Fred—which is most of my life—I’ve never known him to be anything but hardworking.
That’s what makes this feel so out of character. He could have held some kind of grievance against Uncle Sam, but I never knew them to interact much—and if they did, it was always strictly work.
I’ve seen the books. I know he was paid for every job he did, so this can’t be about money being withheld or owed.
I don’t know. It just feels like there are too many unanswered questions, and none of the answers are ones I’m ready to hear.
As I pull up to Fred’s property, the illuminating lamp over his porch and the spotlights cutting through the otherwise dark space leave everything lit in an eerie glow.
Unease settles deep in my gut. I’ve wanted to find the person causing all these problems for months, but now that I’m here, it feels strangely bittersweet.
For a long time, I convinced myself it was Sloane—that she was secretly working for Horizon all along—but the more time passed, the more insane that belief became.
She couldn’t have known, and Uncle Sam sure as hell wouldn’t have let those suits infiltrate the ranch—but they still found a way in. It makes me wonder how long this has truly been going on, and if Fred was just biding his time.
I hop out of my truck and slam the door shut behind me as Fred steps out through his front door, the swinging screen snapping shut as he approaches. His land isn’t as large as mine, not by a long shot.
He isn’t a farmer, and the land he does have is littered with old parts and used materials.
“Hollis,” he says, smiling like he’s already ahead of me. “Didn’t expect to see you out here this late.” Either way, he’s a damn fool, because he has no idea the kind of shitstorm he’s just unleashed.
“Why don’t you tell me, Fred?
Why would I be here?” I ask, hoping maybe he’s grown a spine between the second time he cut my fence and now. Judging by the blank expression settling on his face, that hope is nothing more than wishful thinking.
“Ya need something fixed, and you decided to pay me a house call?” he says, his tone light, like this is some kind of joke.
This damn fool.
“Cut the bull, Fred. I know you’ve been behind all the shit going on at the ranch,” I say flatly, and he raises an eyebrow like I’ve just insulted him.
“Is that right?” he says easily, like this conversation isn’t bothering him at all.
“Yeah, it is. So tell me—how much are they paying you to screw around with my property?” I ask, planting my hands on my waist as he walks closer, shaking his head.
His deep chuckle wafts the stench of beer and slowly rotting teeth straight at me.
“You’ve lost your mind, boy,” he says easily. “You really think I’d risk my neck without protection?”
He pauses, giving me a slow once-over.
“Now hop off my property,” he says, unfazed. “I’d hate for you to start a mess you can’t clean up.”
I scoff loudly enough that it stops him in his tracks.
“What makes you think I didn’t already notify Riggins I was coming down here?” I ask as he turns back to face me.
“Those people are buying out every parcel of land up to Bell River, and they’re itching to get mine. You’re the only one in this town with a deep understanding of everyone’s land.
You’re a damn fool if you think you’ve won here,” I explain, watching his jaw clench tight.
“After everything I’ve done for your family, this is how you treat me? I helped your family rebuild everything, so don’t come at me with your insinuations.
It wasn’t long ago I was helping rebuild that water system of yours that was making you lose money!”
My eyes widen slightly. I knew he placed the water main in, but I didn’t realize he’d handled the entire system, including the routing.
Well, I’ll be damned.
I nod slowly.
“Was that before or after you changed the piping from our water source?”
His eyes widen with realization.
I guess he hasn’t been deep in town gossip because everyone else already seemed to know about our piping issue.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You come on my property again, and everything you’ve built will collapse so fast you won’t even know what hit you.”
I step back, and he stares at me.
Something flickers across his face—not fear. Not yet. Doubt.
I turn and head back to my truck. “Have a good night, Fred,” I yell over my shoulder as I climb inside and pull off his property.
After I’ve put a safe distance between his place and the road, I take my phone out and call Tommy.
“Gage, I sure hope you didn’t go down there,” he says, and I sigh.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t hit him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I reply, shifting my phone against my shoulder. “But I did get him to give himself away.”
“About what?” he asks.
“The fence. The piping. And I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with the break-in too,” I say. Tommy sighs on the other line, cursing under his breath. "Horizon put him up to it,” I added.
“You playin’ cop now, Gage?” he asks.
I scoff quietly. “Just a hunch.”
He pauses. “It’s a damn good one.” Then quieter, “All right. I’m heading out there now. I’ll keep you posted,” he says before hanging up.
I place my phone in the center console, intending to head back to the ranch—but I’m not ready.
If Sloane is there, I need to work through my feelings and where I stand about all of this. If she sold the land, I don't know if I can forgive her.
And if I don't say something now, I might lose the chance altogether.
I turn the truck away from the house and head toward the back part of the property. Along the path where I took her not long ago, past the mesquite tree, a river winds just beyond the edge of the forest.
The old water main sits past the trees, hidden unless you know where to look. Another way in. Another thing she noticed that I never did.
Inside the trees, it’s quiet, the water slipping past in a steady, patient flow. Along the riverbed lie wildflowers—recently planted by Sloane.
They shouldn’t survive here. But she made them anyway.
She always seems to find a way.
I sit on the cool dirt and draw in a slow breath. It hits me then—how much of this place exists now because of her.
The opening through the mesquite tree, the farm, the fields that catch the best morning light. The quiet creek I didn’t even acknowledge.
I never would've seen it the way it deserves to be seen.
Sure, I always knew the land was special. But it isn’t special without someone who understands it—who cares enough to fight for it.
And I was too damn afraid to admit that meant she’d changed me, too.
The thought tightens in my chest.
The six-month clause looms—the agreement that started all of this, now burning down to its final weeks.
Soon, it’ll be over. No deal. No obligation. No reason for her to stay—unless she chooses to.
The realization lands hard, sharp enough to steal my breath.
I want to say yes. I want to say yes to her, to the partnership, to everything she offered. But the fear sits heavy, stubborn, and familiar.
I stand, dusting my hands on my jeans, and head back to the truck. I can’t put this off any longer.
When I pull into the drive, I see her sitting on the steps with Bullet.
Waiting.
She stands immediately when she spots me, and I realize she’s been waiting. I wish she hadn’t been. I don’t know what to say to her—or if I even want to hear what she has to say.
A thought hits hard and ugly: I don’t think I can deal with knowing she sold her pieces to that place.
I sigh deeply, then step out of the truck. I walk around it while she stands there awkwardly, Bullet shifting at her feet like he can feel the tension hanging between us.
“I heard you found out who was screwing with the fence,” she says, and I nod distantly, pointing back in Fred’s direction.
“Yeah. He’s a contractor in town,” I say. “He also put in the water main and the new system for Uncle Sam. He confessed to changing the piping, so I’ve got Tommy heading down there now to take care of it,” I tell her. She lets out a deep breath, her shoulders loosening as she smiles softly.
“Good,” she says quietly. “I’m glad.”
I nod, sighing again as I shift my weight, the last of the adrenaline bleeding off.
“I wanted to hit him,” I admit, meeting her eyes, my mouth quirking despite myself. “I was pissed, and I wanted him to feel it. The old me wouldn’t have stopped.”
“The old you?” she asks quietly.
“The me before you,” I clarify as she draws in a breath, her chest rising like she’s bracing for impact. “I’m still angry,” I continue, surprised by how steady my voice sounds, “but I trust myself more now. I trust that I won’t ruin everything just because I’m hurting.”
They aren’t the words I expected myself to say—especially not out loud—but they’re the truth.
The constant push is exhausting. Sloane was always right about that. I feel it in my bones now, the tension worn thin, but I’m not ready to admit everything I want yet—not with the ranch still hanging in the balance and every decision feeling like it could tip us one way or another.
“I didn’t sell.”
The words land between us, heavy and final. My chest tightens as I wait for her to continue.
“I had the offer in my hand,” she says. “It was lucrative enough that I’d be set for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t sign.” She shakes her head slowly, like she’s still sorting through it herself.
“Why not?” I ask quietly.
“Because I’m not vindictive, Gage.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to be the reason you end up with nothing. Just because this thing between us might look like a fleeting romance doesn’t mean I’d ever turn my back on you—or the legacy your family built.”
Her voice firms.
“This isn’t just about you. It’s Hank, Mason, Jesse—even Bullet. Their home is here. I want you all to keep living the life you choose, in the place you love.”
My heart warms—and breaks—at the same time.
What we had never felt fleeting. It felt real. It still does. But letting someone all the way in is terrifying.
The last time I tore my walls down, I nearly lost this place. I did it again and almost lost everything—and even if none of that was truly her fault, the ranch still sat in her hands.
“I found a solution,” she says. “One where we clear the liens and keep the ranch with the rightful owners.”
I wait, pulse thudding. I’ve chased solutions for months—called Monty so many times he stopped sugarcoating the truth—but I should’ve known she’d find a way.
She always does, even when I don’t ask her to.
“Go on,” I say quietly.
“It will involve us working together permanently.” I close my eyes, dread settling over me. “Hear me out. I have resources that can help buy out the liens under the Carter name, because the longer we sit on it, the closer it gets to being accessible to Horizon.
All you have to do is agree to a permanent partnership, and we can save this place,” she explains, and I’m not sure what to say to that.
A permanent partnership means being attached to Sloane for the rest of my life—and beyond that.
The number of times we’ve fought comes flashing back to my mind, and she may claim she isn’t vindictive, but what if it gets to a point where she is? What if I end up being the vindictive one?
The thought scares me more than losing the land ever did.
There are too many questions racing through my head, but I’m not stupid either. I know this land is on borrowed time because of these liens, making every decision more stressful and painfully time sensitive.
I wish it weren’t the case, but the reality is that Sloane is offering to save this place, and it also means tying her to me for the rest of her life.
I don’t want to force her to be part of my life when all I’ve done is cause her grief. I don’t want to be the reason she’s tied to a ranch from all the way in Austin.
I want her to live the life she chooses. At the end of the day, I know my feelings for her have grown deeper than I care to admit out loud.
I want her to be happy, and loving her means letting her make the decision, even if it costs me a large piece of my own happiness.
Even if it leaves me standing here alone.
But I don’t say any of that.
I say nothing at all.
And I realize that saying nothing is just as bad as saying the wrong thing. She sighs deeply, nodding in defeat. My silence is all the confirmation she needs for me to let her walk away.
I watch as her face visibly shifts, as she blinks back tears and her bottom lip trembles. My heart aches as I watch her crumble, but I can’t be the one to make that decision for her. I can’t force those words out.
She turns on her heel and walks up the stairs, stopping at the door to face me one last time.
“You know, just once, I wish you’d choose your happiness. Not a legacy or a ranch you think you’re owed because your last name is on the sign—but your happiness,” she says before turning back to the door and walking inside.
I sigh deeply and press my head to the bed of my truck. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel my own tears working their way up. Damn it, I haven’t cried in God knows how long, but she’s right.
I wish I’d choose my own happiness too.
Perhaps it’s time I finally do.