Chapter 16
SAWYER
The walk to the dining room table feels like the longest stretch of hardwood I’ve ever crossed in my life.
I can feel Boone’s eyes drilling into the side of my head like he’s willing me to combust. Her sister hasn’t blinked once.
Molly’s trying to keep calm, but her hands are fidgeting in her lap like they’ve got a mind of their own.
And Wren—well, Wren looks like she’s five seconds from either puking or fighting someone. Possibly both.
I reach the table first, pull out a chair, and nod toward her, motioning for her to sit.
She raises an eyebrow, surprised by the formality, but she slides in without a word. I take the chair next to her and sit down just as everyone else does, the air between us tight enough to snap.
Boone’s still glaring when I glance over at him. I don’t flinch. I’m not intimidated by him. I get it—his dad’s gone and he thinks it’s on him to be the enforcer. To protect everyone under this roof, including his sister sitting beside me.
But if he’s trying to rattle me, he’s going to have to try a hell of a lot harder.
He’s big, I’ll give him that. Broad-shouldered, squared jaw, pissed off enough to look like he could go a few rounds. But I’m bigger. And right now? Calmer. Which makes me more dangerous, and I think he knows that.
Wren exhales hard, her knee bouncing under the table.
“It’s not what you think,” she says, folding her hands in front of her like she’s presenting at a board meeting. “This isn’t…romantic. It’s not like we’re suddenly in love or something.”
Her sister makes a small choking sound. Boone shifts in his seat.
“I went to Sawyer,” Wren continues. “Because of the water crisis. I know this sounds insane, and maybe it is. But it’s also the only option I could find that doesn’t end in us losing access to the aquifer.”
Boone scoffs like she just told him she joined a cult. “Jesus, Wren. This was your idea?”
She turns on him, sharp. “Yeah, it was, Boone. Unless you’ve come up with something better in the last twenty-four hours. Care to share with the class?”
He doesn’t answer. Just shifts in his chair, eyes narrowed. She doesn’t flinch.
Her jaw’s set, eyes hard, and she looks like someone who’s been fighting for a long time and is too damn tired to play nice anymore.
It’s not the version of her I’ve been seeing lately—quiet, a little softer around the edges when it’s just the two of us. This Wren is fire. Grit. The protector she probably had to become the second her dad died.
Molly’s the first to break the silence. “Wren, honey, you don’t have to do this,” she says gently, then turns to me, resting a hand on mine. “And neither do you.”
Her hand is warm and it’s one of those gestures that makes you forget, even just for a second, how fucked everything feels.
Wren exhales sharply, her shoulders tense. “Okay. Then what the hell are we supposed to do instead?”
Her voice is firm. Exhausted. She’s not being rude—she’s just out of patience. And I get it.
Molly opens her mouth to respond, but Wren barrels on.
“We’ve got until January, Mom. That’s less than two months.
” She glances around the table. “I’ve called every environmental attorney in the state.
I’ve read the ordinances. I’ve talked to the county.
There’s no loophole, no exception. We either share that aquifer as one household with the Harts or we lose access to it entirely.
And if we lose that water, we lose this ranch. ”
That silences the room.
Even Boone—who’s been doing a solid job of glaring a hole through my head since I sat down—just looks down at the table, his jaw still tight.
Ridge mutters, “This is so fucking stupid. That this is what it’s come to…selling our sister off like a cow just to get some damn water around this place.”
I glance over at Wren. Her fingers are clasped together in her lap, knuckles white. She’s holding it together, but barely.
Then her sister’s voice cuts through. “And you?” she asks, looking at me. “You’re just…volunteering to marry her? Why? What are you getting out of this?”
“Sage!” Wren hisses, her eyes narrow.
“It’s a valid question, Wren! This is crazy,” Sage snaps back.
Everyone’s looking at me now.
I lean back slightly, fold my arms, meet her stare head-on. “I’m getting the same thing you all are. A shot at keeping what my family’s built.”
“But you already have access to the aquifer,” Sage says, not convinced in the slightest. “You didn’t need to do this.”
“I didn’t need to,” I say. “But neither did she. And she came to me anyway.”
Wren looks over, startled.
I hold her gaze. “I’ve seen how hard she’s been fighting to hold this place together. And if this helps both our families survive, then yeah—I’m in. It really is as simple as that.”
Boone doesn’t say anything. But the way his jaw clenches makes it clear he’s still not thrilled. Fine by me. I’m not here to be his best friend.
Wren goes on. “And we only have to be married for a year.”
Molly blinks, like maybe if she keeps doing that, the conversation will turn into something else. Something softer. Easier. She folds her hands together tightly, the lines in her forehead cutting deep.
“Once we pass the first calendar year, we can legally divorce and still maintain our shared household rights to the aquifer. That’s how the statute is written. The county doesn’t monitor beyond that.”
She says it like it’s just a line in a contract. Like she’s not asking everyone in this room to completely suspend reality for twelve full months.
Molly presses her fingertips into her temples, moving them in slow circles as if she’s willing the tension away.
“I know you’re trying to do what’s right for the ranch, sweetheart,” she says, glancing between us.
“But I just…I don’t know. Marrying someone for water? It’s—well, it’s a bit ridiculous.”
Wren lets out a quiet, frustrated breath. “Yeah, well, the whole situation is fucking ridiculous.”
It’s quiet after that. A heavy quiet. Molly stares down at the table like maybe she’ll find a better answer in the grain of the wood.
I shift beside Wren and rest my arm across the back of her chair, not touching her, but there. Solid. Present.
Molly’s voice breaks the silence. “And you, Sawyer?” she says softly, her eyes landing on me. “How do you feel about all this?”
I shift in my seat and rest my arm casually along the back of Wren’s chair.
She glances at me, surprised, but doesn’t move.
“It’s mutually beneficial, like I said,” I say, looking directly at Molly.
“We both get what we need out of it. And Wren and I…we’re friends.
That’s it. We’ll go on living our lives just like we do now. It’s just a piece of paper.”
Wren cuts in, as if she’s been holding it back. “But I’m going to move in with him after the wedding.”
That gets Sage’s attention. “You are? ”
Boone doesn’t say a word, but I can practically feel the heat coming off him.
I nod. “If we’re doing this, we’ve got to sell it. To everyone. The town, the council, the people watching. A real marriage—on paper and in person. That means a real wedding. Wren moving in. All of it.”
Sage opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
Molly exhales slowly. “This all feels like a big lie.”
I glance at Wren before answering. “It is,” I say honestly. “But it’s one that keeps both our families afloat. And if I have to fake a smile through a wedding to make that happen, I’ll do it.”
Wren looks up at me, and something passes between us—quiet, charged. Her expression softens just a fraction, her voice steady but lower when she says, “I will, too.”
For a second, I forget where we are. Her eyes don’t flinch. They stay locked on mine like they’re daring me to flinch first, and the only thing I can think is—shit. She’s beautiful.
Not just in that obvious way, but in the stubborn, impossible-to-look-away kind of way. It’s the sort of moment that makes you forget the whole thing is fake. That it’s not real.
I feel it in the way her pinky nudges against mine under the table. Accidental, probably. But I don’t move either.
She turns her gaze back to the table, her cheeks a little pinker than they were a second ago. “Anyway,” she says, clearing her throat. “I’ll still be around the ranch most days. Nothing’s really changing there.”
I nod, leaning back in my chair. “And I work long hours. I won’t be around much during the week.”
Boone scrubs a hand over his jaw, his eyes fixed on the grain of the table and lets out a cold laugh. “Dad never would’ve gone for this.”
Wren snaps before I can say a word. “Yeah, well, dad’s not here, Boone.” Her voice doesn’t raise, but it hits harder because of that. “If he was, we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.”
The room goes quiet again. Even the kids are suddenly silent in the other room.
Molly’s the first to speak. She breathes out slowly and looks between the two of us. “Well, if you’re really serious about this…then I guess we’ve got a wedding to plan.”
Wren just stares at her, her lips parted. “Wait—really?”
Molly gives a tired smile and shrugs. “You said you’ve thought it through. I might not love the idea of my daughter marrying someone who’s practically a stranger to her, but I’m your mother. I’ll help however I can.”
That tightness in my chest loosens just a little. I nod. “Thank you.”
Molly’s eyes flick to Boone and stay there until he finally mutters, “Yeah. I’ll be around. Whatever.”
Wren raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t push. And honestly, I’m surprised he even said that much.
Sage leans forward, chin propped on her hand. “So…does this mean I get to be a bridesmaid?”
Wren laughs. “Maybe.”
I grin. “I vote yes. You’ll keep things interesting.”
Ridge leans back in his chair with a smug tilt to his mouth. “I’m in charge of the refreshments at the reception, by the way.”
Sage snorts. “So…beer. All beer. Just buckets of it in wheelbarrows.”
He raises a brow like she’s just challenged his honor. “Excuse you. There will be wine.”
“Oh?”
He shrugs, still grinning. “I can be a classy guy when the moment calls for it.”
“Right,” Sage says, dragging out the word. “Plastic cups or mason jars?”
Ridge lifts his brows. “Glassware, baby. Chill it with some ice and you’ll forget you’re in country bumpkin Montana.”
Sage grins. Boone grumbles. Molly starts making a list of things to we’ll need to do and Wren…Wren just leans back, glances at me out of the corner of her eye, and shakes her head like she’s already regretting all of this.
But she’s smiling. Barely. And I don’t miss it.
Not even a little.