Chapter 4 #2
The sun was setting by the time I ended up at the creek—because of course I did.
It's where I always went when the world got too heavy.
I'd grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the tack room—Dad's good stuff that he thought he'd hidden well enough—and settled on the flat rock that jutted out over the water.
Boots off, jeans rolled up, feet in the water that was still cold despite the warm day. The whiskey burned pleasant and familiar, and I tried not to think about how many times Ivy and I had sat on this same rock, planning a future that had turned to ash.
"Figured I'd find you here."
I didn't jump. Liam had always moved quiet as a ghost, even before his Texas Ranger training had made him professionally sneaky.
"Go away."
Instead, he settled beside me, stealing the whiskey bottle and taking a healthy pull. "That was something, wasn't it?"
"What?"
"Her presentation. Come on, Wyatt. Even you have to admit that was impressive as hell."
I grunted, taking the bottle back.
"Forty percent increase in profits," Liam continued. "Without losing our heritage lines. That's not just good, that's revolutionary."
"She learned from the best," I muttered before I could stop myself. "Dad taught her everything about bloodlines when we were kids."
"And she took that knowledge and built something more. Built herself into one of the best in the business." He paused, studying me. "That has to count for something."
"Does it? She still left when she could have done that from here. Could have built that expertise right here at Blackwood, with me." I shook my head. "Something drove her away, and we both know that something was me.”
"Her old man was a mean drunk," Liam said slowly.
"Yeah, he was.” I thought about those last weeks before she left. The bruises she'd explained away. The way she'd flinched when her father's truck pulled up. The careful distance she'd kept between us and her house.
"I think an eighteen-year-old girl might make desperate choices if she were scared enough. And she was scared, Wyatt. Terrified when I caught her in your room that night. That kind of fear doesn’t just spring up from nowhere.”
I always suspected, but when I’d ask, she’d tell me that everything was fine. I shouldn’t have listened. I wrung my hand around the bottle, wishing it were Art Garrison’s neck. “She could have told me. Should have told me. I would have protected her."
Liam scoffed. ”How? By beating the hell out of him? Getting arrested? Throwing away your future?" He took the bottle back. "Maybe she was protecting you."
"That wasn't her choice to make."
"No," he agreed. "It wasn't. But scared kids don't always make the best choices."
We sat in silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth, watching the moon rise over the water.
I wanted to reject what he was suggesting, wanted to hold onto my anger because it was easier than considering alternatives.
That Ivy had kept her abuse hidden from me for years.
But doubt crept in like water through cracks.
"She was terrified of him," I admitted quietly. "Her dad. I saw it, but I didn't... I thought I could fix it. Thought if we just got married, got her away from him, it would be okay."
"Maybe she thought differently. Maybe she thought he'd come after you. Or her mom. Or that you'd do something that couldn't be undone."
"So she ran? That was her solution?” I couldn’t hide the pain in my voice. Not after interacting with her again today. Not with Liam.
"I don't know, brother. I'm just saying maybe there's more to the story than you know."
I thought about her standing at our table today, brilliant and professional and completely in control.
She'd built herself into something formidable.
But underneath all that polish, when she'd looked at me, I'd seen something that might have been regret.
Or guilt. Or maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
"Doesn't matter," I said finally. "What's done is done."
"Is it? She's here now."
"For the job. She'll finish her contract and go back to Dallas and her fancy life."
"Maybe. Or maybe this is a chance for both of you to get some closure. To finally have the conversation you should have had years ago."
"I don't need closure. I need her to do her job and leave."
Liam looked at me with that knowing expression that made me want to punch him sometimes. "Sure you do. That's why you're sitting at your old spot, drinking Uncle Owen’s expensive whiskey, talking about a woman you supposedly don't care about."
"Shut up."
"Her presentation really was incredible, though," he said, changing tactics. “Uncle Owen’s already sold. Aunt Lou, too. Hell, even Hunter was taking notes."
"Hunter takes notes on everything."
"True. But he looked excited. When's the last time Hunter looked excited about anything that didn’t have a motor?"
I had to admit he had a point. My quiet brother rarely showed enthusiasm, but he'd been leaning forward during Ivy's presentation, completely absorbed.
"The ranch needs this," Liam continued. "You know it does. Competition's getting fiercer, and the market's changing. We either evolve or get left behind."
"We were doing fine without her."
"Fine isn't excellent. And Blackwood Ranch has always been about excellence.
" He stood, dusting off his jeans. "Look, I know this is hard.
I know seeing her again is messing with your head.
But maybe try to separate the personal from the professional.
The ranch needs what she's offering, regardless of your history. "
I scoffed. ”Easy for you to say."
"No, it's not. She was family to all of us, Wyatt. We all lost something when she left. But maybe this is a chance to get some of it back. Or at least to understand why we lost it in the first place."
He left me there with the whiskey and too many questions. I stayed until the moon was high and the bottle was near empty, trying to make sense of everything. Trying to reconcile the girl who'd left me with the woman who'd stood in our dining room today, brilliant and untouchable.
Had she left to protect me? The thought sat uncomfortable and heavy in my chest. It changed nothing and everything at the same time. She'd still left. Still chosen to run instead of trusting me. But maybe the reasons weren't as simple as I'd believed.
Tomorrow, she'd be in the breeding barn again, examining our cattle with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. She'd probably find a dozen things we could do better, a hundred ways to improve what we'd built. And she'd be right, damn her. She usually was.
I stood steadier than I should have been after that much whiskey and made my way back to where I'd left Tempest. The stallion nickered softly, probably wondering why we were out so late.
"Sorry, boy," I murmured, swinging into the saddle. "Got lost in my head."
The ride back was slower, quieter. The ranch was mostly dark, just security lights and the glow from the main house, where Mom and Dad were probably still up, discussing the presentation.
The guest cabin had one light on—Ivy's bedroom.
I wondered what she was doing. Working, probably.
Creating more charts and graphs to show us how to be better.
Or maybe she was lying awake, wondering about the same things I was. About what had been and what might have been and why everything had gone so wrong.
But probably not. She'd seemed pretty content with her city life, her success, her distance from everything Copper Creek represented. She'd probably already forgotten about the boy who'd loved her, focused only on the job that would take her back to Dallas soon enough.
Still, Liam's words echoed: Maybe there's more to the story than you know.
Maybe. But I wasn't ready to find out. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The anger was safer than the alternative—hope.