Chapter 6
Asher
The morning sun breaks over the hills slow and steady, casting gold across the pasture and the weathered planks of the old barn.
It's quiet out here, just the shuffle of hooves and the soft rustle of hay as I toss another more hey into Phantom's outside stall, which he has claimed the last few nights.
He lifts his head and watches me with those calm, dark eyes, tail swishing once like he's too dignified to show excitement but too spoiled not to expect breakfast.
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "You act like I don't feed you every damn day, then head into town to beg for food like you haven't eaten all week. If they only knew."
He snorts in agreement, nudges my shoulder with his nose, and then digs into the hay as if I've been starving him for weeks.
Leaning against the stall wall, with my arms folded, I watch him chew. I can smell the old leather, fresh hay, from inside the barn from here, and the cool earth from last night's rain. It's the kind of peace I didn't know I needed until I had it again. Out here, time slows. Thoughts get louder.
Mostly thoughts about her.
Kassi.
It's been two days since she texted me goodnight with that soft, sleepy note that landed in my chest like a stone and hasn't left since.
I think about her more than I should. The way she types, the way she teases, the way her words feel like she's letting me in one sliver at a time.
I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, pretending I don't know who she is.
Pretending I'm just Bear, some faceless cowboy who makes her blush over text.
But I'm not ready to let go of it either.
Zach's voice echoes across the yard. "Hey, Asher, we’ve got a problem!"
I straighten up as he jogs over. "Since we hadn't run that fence line yet, the cattle broke through the west fence. Got into the back field and onto the road."
"Shit," I mutter, already grabbing the lead rope. "How many?"
"Four or five, maybe more. I saw them near the creek bed, too."
The barn's calm vanishes when I swing into motion, saddling up quickly and leading my horse, Rocky, out. The world shrinks into movement and focus as I ride out with Zach, both of us scanning the brush until we spot the escapees munching peacefully where they shouldn't be.
We spend the next hour herding them back, patching the weak fence line with wire and frustration. It's a familiar kind of chaos, and for a little while, it drowns out everything else.
But as the last cow ambles through the gate and I dismount, wiping sweat from my brow, the quiet creeps back in—and so does everything I'd been trying to avoid.
Once I'm back in the barn and brushing Rocky down, I hear boots scuffing across gravel behind me.
"You gonna brush that damn horse or just keep staring off into space like a love-lost teenager?"
Finn. Voice full of sarcasm, face full of sleep. He looks as if he barely made it out of bed, hair sticking up in every direction, hoodie halfway zipped. It's just like him to sleep right through the chaos of this morning.
"Morning to you, too," I say, grabbing a brush from the hook.
Finn leans on the stall beside me. "Zach says you've been less grumpy lately. Told him it's cause you've been texting some mystery woman. You finally come around on the dating apps?"
"Nope."
"Then who is she?"
I brush Rocky's side with long, steady strokes. "Just someone Mom introduced me to."
Finn whistles low. "Damn. Didn't know she still had matchmaking energy in her. You like her?"
I shrug.
"That bad, huh?"
"Not bad," I mutter. "Just complicated."
"Isn't it always?"
I don't answer. Rocky flicks his ear toward me. Maybe he's tired of my secrets too.
"Anyway," Finn says, stretching his arms over his head, "Rodeo's coming up in a few weeks. You gonna ride?"
"I think I'm going to sit this one out. But I'll be there cheering you on."
"Zach wants in this time. He says if you don't sign up, he'll take your spot and ride your favorite bull just to piss you off."
I grunt. "Let him try. He won't beat my time on. I'd bet on it."
"That's what I told him." Finn grins and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Anyway. You gonna tell us who she is?"
"Not yet."
"Fine. But if you start writing poetry in the margins of the feed log, I'm staging an intervention."
Finn pauses at the door and turns back, his teasing fading into something softer. "You alright, Ash? For real? You've had that look on your face all morning. Like you're carrying something heavy."
I hesitate, the brush stilling in my hand. "I'm fine," I lie, then sigh. "Just stuck between something that feels real and something that feels right. Not sure they're the same thing."
Finn nods like he gets it, even if he doesn't know the details. "Whatever it is, don't keep it bottled up too long. Pressure builds, man. Eventually, it's gonna crack."
He wanders off toward the chicken coop, and I finish brushing Rocky down, the rhythm of it grounding me.
Cleaning out the stall slowly, I let the work settle my nerves.
I swap out water buckets, check his hooves, and rake up old hay.
Every step, every breath is something to keep my hands busy so my head won't spin.
When I’m done, I don't go back to my other chores right away.
Instead, I walk into the barn, the old boards creaking beneath my boots.
Dust floats in the sunbeams slanting through the rafters.
I trail my fingers along the wooden support beam near the feed room, the one that has some carved initials in it that I need to ask Willy about.
They look like the ones Finn, Zach, and I carved into the tree in the backyard the summer I was twelve.
That summer was when we put the idea in motion to buy a ranch and run it together.
Dad caught us carving it, and instead of yelling, he grabbed his pocketknife and added his own initials beneath ours.
He was encouraging of our dream, and from that point on, it seemed like it was all we talked about.
Dad used to say the land remembers. That every scar, every mark, every hand that worked it left a trace. I believed him. I still do.
Shutting my eyes, I remember the way Mom cried when we sold that house, and they bought the one on the lake.
The house on the lake was her dream house and the house they planned to retire in, but the small cottage on the edge of town was where Jenna and us boys were born and had all our firsts.
I think about all the pieces of us buried out there—not just blood and sweat, but hope.
Legacy. Roots. I can feel Willy's blood, sweat, and tears in this land too, and I hope we can make him proud.
And now I've got a woman texting me who works for the people trying to rip those roots right out.
But she doesn't feel like the enemy. She feels like a soft laugh and late-night secrets. She feels like a warm light in a dark place.
And that's what scares me most.
My phone buzzes again, but it's not Kassi this time. It's my mom.
"Hey, sweetheart. Just checking in. How's my favorite cowboy?"
"Tired," I answer, trying to sound neutral.
"Mmmhmm. Tired or distracted? You've been a little off lately."
I close my eyes. "Just ranch stuff. Nothing big."
"So... have you heard from that girl I met at the dance hall? Kassi? She seemed really sweet. Pretty too."
My grip tightens on the phone. "Yeah, she reached out."
Mom hums knowingly. "I knew she would. She had that look about her. Smart, curious. I think you two could really hit it off."
"Maybe," I say, noncommittally.
"Well, don't overthink it, Bear. Sometimes the best things come when you least expect them."
"Yeah," I murmur. "I'll talk to you later, Mom."
I hang up and lean back against the fence just outside the barn door, phone in hand. The weight of everything presses harder now. She's rooting for something she doesn't even realize is tangled in lies.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and even though I try to ignore it, I know who it is. I don't look until I've wiped the sweat from my forehead.
Kassi: Hope you and your hay bale survived the night.
I smile, thumb tapping the screen.
Me: Barely. I was haunted by dreams of cat staplers and cupcake bribes.
Kassi: I knew that cat was intimidating.
Me: It's gonna be in my nightmares now.
Kassi: At least it's not that bull you keep dodging.
Me: Careful. You're starting to sound like my brothers.
Kassi: Do you ever think about how this ends? Us talking like this?
I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen. That's not playful. That's real. Vulnerable.
But I don't know what to say. I want to answer her, but the words catch. Instead of replying, I lock the phone and slide it into my pocket when a truck pulls into the drive. Dust kicks up around it, and I recognize the outline before the door even opens.
Ben.
We grew up together, went to school together, and have always had each other's backs. He joined the police force here in Walker Lake and has a small hobby ranch closer to town.
He steps out like he's got something on his mind, and I already know this ain't a social call.
"Morning," he says.
"You drove all the way out here to say that?"
He doesn't smile. Just leans against the fence next to me and looks out at the pasture.
"Heard you've been talking to Kassi."
I stiffen. "Word gets around that fast?"
"Not from her. She and Candy are good friends. She called you Bear. Candy doesn't know the nickname, and I don't think Kassi does either, but I do."
I don't say anything.
Ben turns, folding his arms. "You know she's working for them. That developer group. The ones who want to buy us out, turn our land into luxury crap."
"I know."
"Then what the hell are you doing?"
I look down at my boots, dust-scuffed and cracked from work. "Talking. That's all."
"It won't stay just talking. Not with you. You don't do halfway."
"It's different."
"No, it ain't. It's a slow burn headed for an explosion, and you know it."
I meet his eyes. "She doesn't know who I am. Not really. She thinks I'm some guy his mom mentioned."
Ben shakes his head. "So, you're lying."
"Not lying. Just not correcting her."
"That's the same damn thing, Ash. You're walking a razor's edge. And when it cuts, it won't just be you bleeding."
His words hit too close to home. They settle in my chest, heavy as lead.
"I know," I mumble.
Ben studies me for a long moment, searching my face to see if I mean it.
"Don't play with fire, Asher. Not when everything we love is already hanging by a thread."
He walks back to his truck and drives off, dust curling behind him like smoke.
I stare at the space he left behind. The warning echoes through my ribs. The silence afterward feels deeper than before. It’s as if the barn and the hills and the sky are all holding their breath right along with me.
Then I pull out my phone.
Me: You ever get the feeling you're falling for something you shouldn't?
I know I still haven't answered her last message, and thankfully, she rolls with it.
Kassi: You mean cupcakes?
Me: A woman who's too smart for her own good.
Kassi: Dangerous territory, cowboy.
Me: Yeah. But I've always had a thing for danger.
Kassi: Then you’d better know how to handle it when the storm rolls in.
Me: I grew up in Texas, darlin'. I don't scare easily.
Kassi: Good. Because I don't come with a warning label.
Me: Neither do I.
When she doesn't reply right away, I tuck the phone into my pocket. As I walk back toward the barn, the weight of Ben's words are heavy in every step.
I know this is going to catch fire.
What I don't know is how long I have before the match is lit.