Chapter 12
Asher
Finn is up and leaving before sunrise. I hear the rumble of his old truck engine start up, the scrape of tires on gravel, and then silence again.
I don't get up to say goodbye. Not because I don't care, but because we said our goodbyes last night and because it's always the same with him.
The kind of hunger for something bigger, a better ranch, the best in the county which means hard work and more money.
I lie there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling, listening to the echo of his departure. It feels emptier than I expected.
Zach and I eat breakfast in the kitchen after chores. Eggs, toast, coffee, and silence, until he finally leans back in his chair with a smirk. "So, what's the plan now that baby brother's off chasing bulls and buckle bunnies again?"
I snort and shake my head. "Try to keep the place standing until he gets back, I guess. More work for us, but less food to cook."
Zach raises a brow, leaning forward slightly. "You think he's ever gonna hang up the spurs for good? Settle down and help run this place full-time?"
I stare at my coffee for a moment before answering. "I thought maybe he would after we signed the papers. After we finally had land to call our own. But he's not there yet."
Zach grunts in agreement. "He might never be. Some men are built for the ride more than the ranch."
"Yeah," I murmur. "But I keep hoping he'll come around. Eventually. Until then, his winnings will help keep this place going. He made sure to tell me last night that half of what he wins will go into the ranch account."
Zach shifts back in his seat, gaze thoughtful. "In the meantime, looks like it's just you and me holding down the fort. Think we can manage without his charm and chaos?"
I chuckle. "It'll be quieter. That's for damn sure."
By mid-morning, I'm knee-deep in fencing repairs out on the western edge of the property.
Last week, a storm loosened a few posts, and we are still going over every fence post from when we bought the place from Willy.
I swear the cattle have been eyeing the weak spots, already sizing up their chance to make a break for it.
I work with my head down, gloves on, sweat dripping despite the cool air.
It's the kind of labor that lets you forget everything else for a while.
Just the sound of a hammer against wood, wire pulled taut, the scent of earth and sweat.
But forgetting doesn't last long.
Around noon, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. Wiping my hands, I check the screen.
Josh: Headed your way. Jenna wants to check on Duke.
Josh is a friend, not just a fellow rancher. All my life, he and my dad have been good friends. It was perfectly normal until he started dating my sister. Now that they are married, it's still a bit weird with the age gap, but seeing how happy he makes Jenna is worth it.
Me: See you soon.
Then I text Zach a heads-up as he's on the ranch working a different stretch of fence. It's about time to head in for a break and lunch anyway.
They show up just after lunch. Josh climbs out of the truck in jeans and a ball cap, a six-pack in hand. Jenna follows with her bag slung over one shoulder.
"Brought reinforcements," Josh says, holding up the beer.
"Better than coffee," I reply.
We go to the barn where Duke is resting in his stall, his leg wrapped neatly and his eyes calm. Jenna crouches beside him with practiced ease, murmuring soft reassurances as she checks the bandage and runs her hands down his leg.
"He's healing well," she says. "Cade did good work."
I nod, relief settling low in my chest. "Thanks for coming."
Josh claps a hand on my shoulder. "We all check in on each other. Comes with the territory."
After Jenna's done, we linger near the barn. When she walks over to lean against the rail beside Josh, she casts me a knowing look.
"So, Finn's off to another rodeo," she says casually. "I thought he'd stay home more now that y’all bought the ranch."
I shrug. "You aren't the only one who thought that. He's chasing something, but I don't think he knows what it is yet."
Josh chuckles. "Sounds familiar. Took me a while, too."
But when he looks over at Jenna, it's with nothing but love in his eyes.
Jenna nudges Josh with her elbow before turning to me. "I heard something else, too. Word is you took a walk around the lake the other day—with a certain developer employee."
I shoot her a look. "You hear that from the diner gossip train?"
"Maybe," she says with a grin. "Or maybe people just notice things."
Josh raises a brow, watching me a little closer now. "Anything we should know about?"
I shake my head, trying to downplay the tension curling in my gut. "It was just a walk. I figure if we talked in town, it would stop her from visiting the ranch anytime soon."
Even as I hear my words, my gut twists as it's far from the truth. I want Sunshine, the girl I've been texting, to show her around the ranch and spend time with her. Kassi, who works with the developer, I'm not so sure about.
"Mmhmm," Jenna says. "Well, folks are talking. Just thought you should know."
"Let them talk," I mutter. "It doesn't mean anything."
Josh studies me for a beat, then nods slowly. "Only you know what it means. But be careful, alright? Small towns remember everything."
I nod. Their concern lingers even after they change the subject, but I don't say more. Just listen, feeling their words settle in the back of my mind like dust that won't quite shake loose.
We settle in and talk about crops, weather, and the price of feed. Regular things. Safe things. But I'm only half listening. My thoughts drift more than they should to a woman who shouldn't matter as much as she does.
If Josh notices, he doesn't say anything, but he watches me with that quiet kind of knowing. The kind only someone who's loved and lost and loved again can wear in their eyes.
That night, after dinner and cleanup, and another round of checking on Duke, Zach joins me on the porch with a couple of beers. He hands me one and sits down beside me.
We drink in silence for a minute, watching the stars blink into place overhead.
"You've been quiet lately," Zach finally says, nudging my boot with his.
I take a long sip before answering. "Just thinking."
"About her?"
I don't answer, but I don't need to.
Zach smirks. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day my big brother caught feelings for someone he's not sure he can trust."
"I don't know if it's that simple," I say.
"It never is."
Before I can respond, both our phones buzz. It's a group text from Finn.
Finn: Got in safe. Place is dusty but decent. Here's the view.
There's a photo attached of a wide-open arena, bleachers on one side, sun casting shadows across the dirt. It unsettles me, causing a quiet ache in my chest.
"Kid's living the dream," Zach says.
I nod. "Let's hope it doesn't break him."
Zach tips his bottle toward me. "To surviving dreams."
We clink bottles. After a while, Zach heads in, leaving me alone on the porch.
The stars are out, sharp and clear, as if someone scattered diamonds across black velvet. The air smells like hay and earth and wood smoke from the neighbor's chimney. A soft breeze moves through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a coyote yips.
And I think of her.
Of Kassi.
Her laugh curling around the edges of a sentence. The look in her eyes when she talks about her daughter. The moment she stumbled, I caught her, and neither of us wanted to let go. The feeling of almost. Almost kissing her. Almost saying more.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering for a second before I open our thread.
Me: You still awake?
It takes a few minutes, but the dots appear.
Sunshine: Barely. Long day. You?
Me: Same. Had a visit from my sister, who wanted to check on Duke. Spent some time catching up.
Sunshine: That's good to hear. He's tough. Like his owner.
I smile a little, the compliment hitting in a place I didn't know needed it.
Me: Not feeling so tough tonight.
Sunshine: What's going on?
I think about lying. About brushing it off. But I don't. Not with her.
Me: Just feels heavy. The ranch. The responsibility. Missing people who aren't here. Wanting things I probably shouldn't.
The dots pause. Then blink. Then pause again.
Sunshine: I get that. More than you know.
Me: Figured you might.
There's another long pause, and then a new message pops up.
Sunshine: I'm here if you need to talk.
I stare at the words longer than I probably should. The porch creaks as I shift, setting the empty bottle beside me. My fingers hover again.
Me: This helps. Just knowing that.
Sunshine: Always. Goodnight, Bear.
Me: Goodnight, Sunshine.
Leaning back, I close my eyes. But I don't move inside yet. Instead, I sit there with the phone still in hand, scrolling up through our thread. Back to those first messages. The jokes. The sarcasm. How she called me out and made me laugh without even trying.
Then I read them slower this time, letting the words hit a little deeper.
There's something in the way she talked to Bear that feels different from how she talks to me now.
It was lighter. She was willing to give him her softer edges.
And maybe she did. Maybe Bear got the version of her that she didn't have to protect.
I imagine what it would be like to have that in real life.
To have her here, in this chair beside me, legs curled under her, coffee in hand.
Laughing at one of my dumb jokes. Reaching over to touch my arm.
I let myself feel it—just for a moment—the weight of that imagined life pressing against the ribs of this one.
But it's a dangerous thing, this kind of hope. Because maybe that life isn't mine to want. Maybe Bear and Kassi only worked in the quiet corners of a digital world. And now that the lights are on and names are known, maybe it's not enough.
Still, I don't go inside. I sit a little longer, listening to the wind, holding onto the echo of her words as though they mean more than they should. Maybe even everything.