I stretched out beside Ryan as the sun started to peer through the window. He shifted a little in his sleep as I slid out of bed. The fire had died out so I shivered a little as I pulled his shirt around me. I smiled as I wrapped myself in the warmth of him that still lingered in the fabric.

I walked into the bathroom to take care of my needs, then brushed my teeth. He was still sleeping peacefully when I made it back to the room. I started to rummage through the cabinets pulling out a box of pancake mix and started coffee.

I opened the old refrigerator, checking the date on the milk, it was still good. I gave it a sniff to make sure. I grabbed an old cast iron skillet and dropped some butter into it to heat while I mixed the batter.

This cooking stuff isn't so hard, I thought.

The smell of sizzling butter filled the air as I poured the pancake batter into the skillet, the edges of each one starting to bubble just right. I flipped one carefully, watching as it browned to a perfect golden hue. I couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride. Cooking had always seemed like a chore, but here in this moment, it felt oddly satisfying.

I turned the heat down as I kept an eye on the pancakes, glancing over at Ryan. He was still asleep, the light filtering through the window casting soft shadows across his face. I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me, not just from the heat of the kitchen, but from the quiet peace we had here together.

I moved quietly, making sure not to disturb his rest as I finished flipping the last pancake. The soft scent of coffee now mingled with the pancakes, and I set everything out on the counter. I glanced at the clock—it wasn't too late, but I knew Ryan would be waking soon, hungry and ready for the day.

As I poured a cup of coffee for myself, I could feel the anticipation building. We'd spent the night together, but mornings like this always felt a little more intimate. It was the quiet moments that held the most weight.

When I finally turned back toward the bed, I noticed Ryan had shifted again, his eyes flickering open. He stretched, a soft groan escaping his lips, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, tousled hair and all.

"Morning, cowboy," I said, my voice soft but full of warmth. "Breakfast is ready."

Ryan blinked a few times, taking in the scene—me in his shirt, the pancakes on the table, and the aroma filling the cabin. His lips curved into a lazy smile. "You're full of surprises."

I raised an eyebrow. "It's just pancakes and coffee, nothing too wild."

He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "I think you've managed to surprise me in every way possible." His voice was rough from sleep, but the affection in it made my heart flutter.

I carried the plate over to him, the warmth of the food and the moment grounding me. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you," I said softly, watching him take the first bite. "I just figured I'd give this whole domestic thing a try."

Ryan looked up from his food, his eyes locking with mine, a playful glint in them. "If this is your idea of domestic, I think I can get used to it."

"Well there were directions on the box," I told him, "so I figured I couldn't fuck it up too badly."

Ryan shook his head with a chuckle, "You didn't fuck it up at all, baby."

"Glad I have your stamp of approval," I took a bite, surprising even to me, it was good. Didn't hold a candle to Gator's but it was edible. "What time do we have to head back?"

Ryan glanced at his phone for the time, "Shit," he exclaimed, "now."

"Well," I chuckled, "I guess no morning sex for me."

"We can have afternoon sex," he kissed my neck, "after I get done what I need to. Then after supper sex," his lips trailed over my ear.

"That's my whole day sorted," I smiled as his lips tickled my neck.

Ryan chuckled against my skin, the vibration sending a shiver down my spine. "Well, I'm glad to know I've got your day planned out." His hands slid around me, pulling me closer, and for a moment, I let myself lean into the warmth of him, enjoying the feeling of being tangled in his arms.

But the reality of the clock caught up with us. I reluctantly pulled away, looking over at the pancakes still sitting on the counter. "Guess I'll just have to savor this breakfast before it turns into a rushed lunch," I teased, standing up and pulling the shirt down a little.

Ryan sat up, stretching like a cat in the sun. "Let me grab a shower real quick, and I'll be ready to go. We'll make it work, baby." He gave me a wink, and I smiled, watching as he moved toward the bathroom.

I finished my coffee, feeling that buzz of energy take over me as I gathered up the dishes. The sun had risen higher, casting the cabin in a soft golden light, but the day was calling us back to reality.

Still, I couldn't help but smile. Even if it was a quick morning, it felt like we were in our own little world, even if just for a little while. I was already looking forward to when we'd have that afternoon—one that would be full of a different kind of intimacy.

The rain had finally stopped by the time we saddled up again, our horses' hooves clicking against the wet ground as we headed back to reality. The rest of the world, as we knew it, was waiting for us. The hands were already busy in the yard, working with the two-year-olds as we made our way back to the barn.

I dismounted and led my horse by the reins, feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment. The cabin had been a brief escape, but now, it was time to get back to the routine.

Ryan's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Let me get the horses settled, baby. You go see to your spoiled-ass rodeo horse. I'm sure Denim missed you while you were gone."

I shot him a playful glance over my shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I'll be sure to give him all the attention he deserves," I teased, heading toward the barn where my loyal steed was waiting.

I walked to the back of the barn, "Morning boys," I called over to Goose and Maverick as they chomped at the hey in their trough. I stopped suddenly when I reached Denim's stall, he was already saddled.

No one ever saddled him but me or Ryan.

I stood frozen, Denim's reins in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the sign hanging from the saddle horn. Tears welled up in my eyes before I could even stop them, blurring the edges of the words in front of me. The sign read: "Will you marry me?"

It was like the world had slowed down around me, the sound of the horses grazing in the background fading into nothing. The only thing that mattered, the only thing I could focus on, was that question hanging there, bold and clear, a promise I wasn't expecting but had hoped for.

I swallowed hard, blinking away the tears, my hand shaking slightly as I reached for the sign. My chest felt tight, like there wasn't enough room for the emotions swirling inside me. I had no words in that moment, just a rush of thoughts, of memories, of everything that had led me to this point.

I turned to look back at Ryan, standing in the doorway of the barn, his face lit with that easy, confident smile I knew so well. He was watching me, waiting.

"Well?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an excitement that mirrored my own.

I didn't know what else to say except, "Yes."

The hands that had been too busy to look up from their work before had gathered behind Ryan, hooting and hollering.

"I fucking told you she'd say 'Yes'," Colby clapped a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Don't know why 'cause you still can't rope for shit."

Ryan brushed off Colby's words, not responding with his usual comeback. He walked up to me as he fished a black box out of his jeans.

"El–," he started.

"I will change my mind real quick if you say my full name in front of everyone," I chuckled through the tears on my face.

Ryan froze for a moment, his lips curling into a grin at my teasing. "Alright, alright, no full names." He dropped to one knee in front of me, a move so effortless and natural it almost seemed like he'd planned it. The box in his hand flicked open to reveal a simple, yet stunning ring, catching the light from the barn.

"I know we've got a lot of history, a lot of things we've been through, but I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. So, how about it, baby? Will you marry me?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth with that familiar warmth, the same intensity that had kept me by his side all this time.

I glanced over at the hands behind us, their whooping and hollering still echoing in the background. Then I looked back at Ryan—at the man who had become a constant in my life, someone I couldn't imagine not having by my side.

"I'm not going to change my mind, cowboy," I said softly, bending down to meet his gaze. "Of course, I'll marry you."

His grin widened, and I watched the tension leave his shoulders as he slid the ring onto my finger. The sound of cheering and applause from the crew behind us didn't even faze me. In that moment, all that mattered was him and me—and the life we were about to build together.

Rip's voice sliced through the air like a knife, cutting through the celebration that had erupted around us. "What the fuck is going on around here?" His tone was sharp, demanding attention. "Don't y'all have work to be doing?"

The hands froze, mid-laugh and mid-cheer, their expressions shifting from jubilant to sheepish in an instant. Rip didn't even have to move; his glare alone sent them scattering, back to their tasks like cattle suddenly aware of their herder's presence. But it wasn't just his authority that silenced them—it was the way he carried himself, the raw power behind his words.

Once the commotion died down, Rip took a deliberate step closer to us. His eyes flicked to Ryan for a brief moment, the corners of his lips twitching, as though trying to suppress a smirk. But when he looked at me, that smirk broke free.

"You sure you want to marry this asshole, Alex?" Rip's voice was low, the challenge barely veiled beneath the humor in his tone. His gaze was teasing, but there was something more—something like approval, lurking behind those sharp eyes.

I didn't hesitate. The feeling in my chest, the clarity that had been there from the start, was undeniable. I smiled, my heart pounding but steady, as I looked Rip in the eye.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," I said, the words solidifying my certainty in that moment. It wasn't just about the proposal or the ring, but about everything Ryan and I had been through—and the future I saw with him.

Rip paused for a beat, as if weighing my words. Then, with a half-grin, he gave a quick nod of approval. "Well then, guess you've got the old bastard's blessing."

I laughed, the sound light and genuine, before glancing at Ryan, who was watching with that familiar, crooked grin of his. The teasing between Rip and us only solidified it: this was real. This was my family, my future, and nothing could change that.

"Thank you," I said, my emotions swirling in a way I couldn't control. Lee was gone, and Kayce and Jamie had left the ranch. But there was still one brother who would never leave.

"Don't fucking cry," Rip grumbled, his voice low.

"Shut up," I shot back, irritation thick in my voice. "Don't be a dick."

"Can't help it. It's just who I am." He paused, then added, "And don't hug me either."

I hugged him anyway.

—-

I couldn't stop smiling as I made my way back to the house. Beth was at the kitchen bar, sipping coffee and typing away on her laptop.

"You doing what you always do?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

"Trying to take over the world?" She glanced up at me, raising an eyebrow. "Yep."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," I replied, sliding onto the stool next to hers and resting my left hand on the counter.

"Finally, he put a ring on it," Beth muttered, not bothering to look up. "But no double weddings, Alex. That's fucking stupid."

"Fine, I'll give you your own day and I'll have mine," I said. "Where's Dad?"

"Office," she replied.

I stood up to head down the hall. "Hey, you'll make a good blushing bride. You haven't had the blush fucked out of you yet."

"I'll take that as the compliment you meant it to be," I shot back.

"Sure, you do that." She waved me off without looking up.

I leaned against my father's office door, watching him read through papers on his desk. "I hope I didn't fuck up your whole system while you were… gone," I said.

"Your organization could use some work, sweetheart," Dad glanced up at me, "but you managed everything just fine. Between this and Travis' horses, we might finally see some green after all these years."

"Glad I could help." I pushed myself off the doorframe and walked in, settling into the chair across from him. "How's your cattle protester?"

"Her name's Summer," he replied. "And I wish you girls wouldn't give her such a hard time."

"As long as she doesn't start calling you 'Daddy,' I'm good," I shot back. "You need someone who can make you happy."

He looked at me curiously, letting my words sink in. "Sometimes I wish you girls weren't so comfortable with telling me shit like that."

"We haven't been 'girls' in a long time," I responded dryly. "I'm just glad she's not a stripper named Candy."

He shot me a look.

"She's not a stripper, right?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No, she's not a stripper," he said, with a hint of uncertainty. "At least, I don't think so."

"You gonna see her again?" I asked.

"I didn't exactly plan my social calendar around her," he replied. "Did you come in here to talk about my dating life, or did you have something else on your mind?"

"Ryan asked me to marry him," I said, my voice steady. "And I said yes."

"It's about damn time." He looked up at me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "He make you happy, sweetheart?"

"Every day," I answered, the warmth in my voice undeniable.

"That's all I want for you, your sister, and your brothers," he said.

"We will be," I replied, with quiet certainty.

"Until you decide where you want to build your life with him," Dad said, "You two can stay in Lee's cabin."

No one had been in Lee's cabin since he died. Dad tried moving in there for a while to give Kayce space in the main house, but it didn't last very long. Too many memories there.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "We can just stay here until we've figured everything out."

"I'm sure, sweetheart," he looked at me, "Lee would want you there."

I nodded.

I called Kayce, and when he picked up, it was clear he already knew. Maybe it was the twin connection, or maybe Ryan had already talked to him. Either way, he was one step ahead.

I tried calling Jamie next. Straight to voicemail. I called again, but it was the same—voicemail. Frustration bubbled up, but I kept my cool and sent him a text:

I need to talk to you. Call me when you can.

It felt like one more unanswered thing in a day already full of them. But I needed to hear his voice. Needed him to know what was happening.

—-

It was getting late, and still no return call from Jamie. I'd eventually have to track him down, but that was a chore for another day. For now, I wanted to spend the evening with my cowboy.

So, I headed to the bunkhouse.

"When you and my boy get married, you gonna let him come over and lose at cards?" Colby chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"When we get married, I might just teach him how to beat you boys at cards," I replied, grabbing a beer from the fridge and tossing it to him and Ryan.

"I don't lose," Ryan said, glancing between us with a grin. "I just play better when you're not looking."

"Sure, cowboy," I smirked. "Keep telling yourself that."

"So come on, girl," Laramie said from across the table. "Show me the ring."

"What, this old thing?" I grinned, holding up my left hand.

Walker whistled, then looked over at Ryan. "Bet that set you back a month's wages."

"Worth every penny," Ryan replied, his voice full of pride.

"Gonna be hard to rope with that thing on your hand," Teeter chuckled. "You still gonna hang around here when you're Sadie Sadie, married lady?"

"Where else would I be?" I raised an eyebrow. "You all would fall apart if I wasn't around to stitch you back together."

"Are we playing cards or what?" Colby asked, glancing around the table. "Alex, you in?"

"Sure, deal me in." I tossed some cash into the pot. "Don't cry when you're broke tomorrow."

"I won't be the one crying," he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. "How many cards you want?"

"Give me two," I said, discarding my two and watching him deal me two more.

"I'm going four," Laramie declared, leaning back in her chair.

"Anybody named after a city," Walker teased, "is a crooked fucking card player, if you ask me."

"Hey," Laramie fired back, her eyes narrowing. "Keep your comments to yourself or get in the game." She reached over and pulled him in for a kiss, making everyone laugh.

"Hell, you know I work too hard for my money," Walker chuckled, still smiling after the kiss.

"I gotta jump in here real quick," Ryan smirked, looking over at them. "YOU work hard?" He looked around the table, incredulous. "Did you hear what that man just said?"

"I don't know nothing about him working hard," Colby chimed in, shaking his head. "I'm usually too busy working hard myself to notice."

"Dude, you fucking kidding me?" Teeter chuckled. "Y'all wouldn't know hard work if it crawled up your leg and sucked on your fucking pecker."

I burst out laughing.

"Are you gonna let your girlfriend talk to me like that?" Ryan looked over at Colby, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't even start," Colby groaned, shaking his head.

"Teeter, it's official, isn't it?" Ryan asked, his voice full of mischief.

"I don't know," she replied with a shrug. "He don't like labels."

I smirked. "Do y'all have a song?"

"Walker, now you can work for your money," Ryan laughed, gesturing to him. "They need a song."

"Oh yeah, I've got… Mm-hmm, they do," Walker replied with a smirk, then started strumming his guitar. The melody began to take shape, and lyrics flowed easily. "Damn, take it easy, mama, won't you lay your head down?"

Everyone burst out laughing.

"I ain't your fucking mama, baby," Teeter shot back, her eyes darting over to Colby.

"All's I can say is, between all of y'all," Jake laughed, shaking his head, "I'm feelin' a big-ass shit show comin' on."

Walker didn't miss a beat, his fingers dancing across the strings, the lyrics flowing through him. His gaze settled on Laramie, a smile tugging at his lips. "It's hard when you're alone…" he sang, his voice low and teasing.

"Alone?" Laramie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "When have you ever been alone?"

I hadn't noticed Lloyd sitting in the corner, brooding and fuming, not until he shot up from his chair, snatched Walker's guitar from his hands, and slammed it against the wall with a violent crash.

"Hey! Hey, goddamn it, no fighting!" Ryan's voice cut through the chaos. "No fighting, that's the rule!"

"I ain't fighting. I'm smashing a fucking guitar," Lloyd shot back, his tone laced with anger.

"Fucking semantics." I stood up from my chair, my voice sharp. "That was a shitty-ass thing to do."

"You're a fucking asshole!" Laramie screamed at him, fury in her eyes.

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Lloyd. "You're done smashing it."

Lloyd's gaze shifted to Ryan. "I've known you since you were eighteen years old," he spat. Then his eyes flicked over to me. "And you since you were born. You think you know what he is? You don't know shit."

"They don't know me any more than you do," Walker's voice was low, but there was a fire in it as he stood, squaring off with Lloyd. "But I fucking know you. I've seen a thousand of you in prison, thinkin' you're some kind of bully 'til a bigger bully comes along. We all know how that ends. With you on your fucking knees, bitch."

Lloyd's eyes darkened, and before anyone could move, he clicked his knife open and threw it with deadly accuracy. The blade lodged into Walker's chest with a sickening thud.

"Oh fuck!" Walker shouted, stumbling back, disbelief written all over his face. Everyone jumped to their feet in panic.

"What the fuck, Lloyd?!" Laramie screamed, her voice cracking as she rushed to Walker's side, catching his arm to steady him.

I was on my feet in an instant, moving to the other side of Walker, helping him sit back down in the chair. The room felt like it was spinning.

Ethan lunged at Lloyd, trying to stop him from making another move, but Lloyd swung violently, knocking him to the ground.

Colby and Ryan charged across the room, grabbing Lloyd by the arms to subdue him. Ryan managed to get him in a chokehold, his grip tightening until Lloyd finally passed out, collapsing in his arms. Colby and Ryan quickly cuffed him, the tension in the air palpable.

I focused on Walker, his face pale as the knife wound bled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Jake hovered behind me, his voice low and urgent. "Should we pull it out?"

"Can you get outta my light so I can see how deep it is or if anything's gonna gush when you yank it out?" I snapped, trying to keep my focus.

"You want me to call the vet?" Jake asked, concern in his voice.

"Don't call the vet, call a fucking doctor!" Walker barked, his face contorted in pain.

"We ain't calling any doctor," Ryan's voice was firm as he took charge of the situation. He tossed Colby his keys. "Get my truck, bring it around front."

I glanced at Walker's wound, trying to keep him steady as everyone scrambled to move. The world felt like it was moving too fast, but I couldn't stop to panic. Not yet.

I carefully helped Walker remove his shirt, making sure not to disturb the knife lodged in his chest. "Call the vet. I can't tell if it hit an artery," I said, my voice tight with urgency. "I don't want to pull this out without knowing for sure. We need an x-ray."

"Alright," Jake replied, his voice low but steady.

"I'm going to…" Ryan murmured, glancing at me as he pointed toward the door. I nodded, catching a brief look of determination in his eyes before he and Colby headed out, dragging Lloyd along with them. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in my chest.

"It's gonna be okay," I said, though my own voice betrayed the uncertainty in my heart. I tried to reassure both Laramie and Walker, but the shock was settling in, and I could see it in their eyes.

The vet arrived shortly after, hauling a portable x-ray machine behind him. I let out a quiet breath of relief as the x-ray screen flickered to life. The image was clear: no arteries were hit. The blade had lodged itself just under his clavicle.

"I'm aware of where it fucking is," Walker grumbled, wincing slightly.

The vet scanned the screen one last time. "Didn't hit the lung," he said, his voice clinical. He turned to me. "Sterilize the site and prepare the sutures." I nodded quickly and grabbed the supplies, but before I could act, the vet added, "The tissue is adhered to the blade. It's going to be a messy extraction—considerable bleeding and pain. And I don't have anything to give you for the pain."

Walker gave a sharp laugh, his face twisted in pain. "What about Banamine?"

"We don't know the long-term effects of Banamine on humans," the vet replied, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Do I look like I'm gonna live to be fucking seventy?" Walker shot back, his voice low but laced with annoyance. "Just give me the damn thing and get it out of me."

I stepped in, preparing the shot, knowing I had no time for hesitation. I gave him the injection, hoping it would dull the pain even a little. As I prepped the gauze to stop the bleeding, the vet moved in to extract the blade.

"Fuck, shit, fuck!" Walker shouted, his face contorted in agony. The pain meds hadn't taken effect yet, and I could see the raw, intense suffering on his face.

"The blade hit the bone," the vet said, glancing at me.

"Not according to the x-ray," I responded, my voice firm despite the tension in the air.

"I need to check the x-ray again," the vet muttered, as if second-guessing himself.

"Just pull it out!" Walker growled, his patience fraying.

I took a deep breath, gripping the knife handle firmly. "I got this," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure I did. With one sharp pull, I yanked the blade out of Walker's chest, the room filling with the sound of his strained breath. I dropped the blade on the table and immediately applied pressure to the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

Laramie knelt beside him, tears in her eyes. "Are you okay, baby?" Her voice cracked as she searched his face for any sign that he wasn't on the brink of collapse.

"Just another Monday," Walker quipped, though his voice was hoarse, and the pain was still evident in his eyes. Despite everything, he managed a small, strained grin.

—-

No one had a peaceful night's sleep after everything that went down. Walker had camped out in Laramie's trailer, and honestly, I didn't blame him. After what had happened, he didn't feel safe staying in the bunkhouse, and I could tell from the way he kept glancing around like the walls might close in on him. It wasn't just the wound—everything felt wrong now.

Rip came storming through the bunkhouse door, Laramie and Walker trailing behind him. There was a tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Everybody in here?" Rip's voice rang out, a little sharper than usual.

Laramie gave him a slight nod. "Where's Mia?" Rip demanded.

"She left," Laramie replied, her voice flat.

Rip didn't waste time. "This here's for you," he said, handing Laramie two envelopes. "Give her the other one when you see her." He turned to Teeter. "Pack your shit up." He handed her an envelope, too. "You both are gone."

"What the fuck did I do?" Teeter yelled, her face flushed with anger.

"It ain't my decision," Rip said coolly, but there was something in his eyes—something regretful, maybe even a little apologetic. He shifted his gaze to me. "You should stay clear of here for a while, too."

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned to the rest of the hands. "The rest of y'all come with me."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of what Rip had just said hanging in the air. I saw the look of defeat flash across Teeter's face. She dropped her gaze, not looking at anyone as she took the envelope, her shoulders sagging. She shot Laramie a cold, cutting stare, her hurt obvious. It was clear the game Laramie had played with Lloyd and Walker had come back to bite her. And it had cost Teeter her place in this world, out of a home she'd grown used to.

I followed Teeter as she walked slowly to her bunk, her steps heavy. The air felt thick with the sting of what had just happened. It wasn't just Teeter being thrown out—it was all of us. We were all getting swept up in the mess.

"I can try to talk to my dad," I said quietly as I helped her pack her things. "After this whole thing blows over, maybe it'll help."

Teeter snorted, the sound bitter. "Ain't no use," she muttered, her voice low. "That's how it always happens for me. As soon as I make somethin' for myself, something always fucks it right up."

Her words hit me hard, a punch to the gut. I couldn't argue with her. I knew what it felt like to have everything fall apart, no matter how hard you tried to build. But hearing her say it… the resignation in her voice, the acceptance that it would never be different—it cut deep.

I watched her pack her things, the sadness in her movements evident. No words could fix this. No quick fix or promises would erase the sting.

"You need anything," I said as we walked toward her beat-up old truck, "you call me. No matter what. Anytime." I forced a small smile, trying to lighten the weight in the air. "I'm gonna need a bridesmaid, you know."

Teeter let out a dry chuckle, kicking at the dirt with the toe of her boot. "Ain't never had many friends who were women," she admitted. Then, after a pause, she corrected herself. "Well… never had friends who were women."

"Me neither," I confessed, meeting her gaze. "Glad you changed that."

She nodded, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes—something softer than usual. A flicker of understanding. Of gratitude. She didn't say anything else, just threw her bag into the truck bed and climbed in.

As the engine sputtered to life, I stepped back, watching as she pulled out of the yard.

Life at the ranch wouldn't be the same without her.

—-

I leaned against the fence, arms folded, watching as the steers were separated from their mamas. This part of the job never sat right with me. And today, I wasn't fucking doing it.

The calves bawled, their mothers calling back, the sound carrying across the pens like a mournful song. I understood the need—selling cattle was how we kept the ranch running. These steers were ready to move on, whether that meant better pastures or someone's dinner plate. That was the way of things. Didn't mean I had to like it.

I stayed put, boots planted in the dirt, letting someone else do the cutting while I just watched.

I lost the fight with my father. Or, more accurately, he never let me have it in the first place. He shut it down before it could even start.

He decided who worked here and who didn't. Not me.

That realization hit fast and hard, though it shouldn't have surprised me. Over the years, I'd seen hands come and go. I never got too close to many of them. Besides Lloyd—who'd been a fixture on this ranch before I even learned to walk—and Rip, who had fought for us, protected us, since the moment he set foot here.

It wasn't until Ryan that I really started connecting with the hands. They stopped being just workers and became friends. Family.

And I hated the thought of losing them.

Teeter leaned against the fence, squared her shoulders, and faced my father like she was ready for a fight. And hell, she had every right to one.

"Excuse me, sir," she called out. "Can I have a word?"

Dad glanced at Rip. "She talking to me?"

"I believe she said she wants a word," Rip translated dryly.

Dad huffed. "I can't understand a damn thing coming outta her mouth."

I stepped in a little closer, ready to back her up, but I knew this was a battle she had to fight on her own.

"Sir," she started, voice steady, "whatever's between Walker and Lloyd, it ain't got nothing to do with me. Or Laramie, for that matter. That was just an excuse. I was the first one up every morning and the last one done. Ask him," she motioned to Rip. "Ask him if anyone works harder'n me."

"She ain't lying, sir," Rip confirmed.

Dad studied her for a long moment. "So the fight wasn't over you?"

"No, sir," she answered, a tinge of frustration in her voice.

"You just did your job?"

"Every damn day," she said without hesitation.

"Never fooled around with anyone in the bunkhouse?"

"Ain't nobody ever said I couldn't," she countered.

"Common sense says you shouldn't," Dad shot back. "'Cause the next fight will be over you."

Teeter swallowed hard, but she didn't back down. "So all that 'this is my home forever' talk is just bullshit?" Her voice wavered, but she held firm as she yanked her shirt to the side, revealing the brand on her chest. "Scarred for life, and it don't mean nothin'?"

Dad didn't answer right away. Instead, he pointed off to the side. "Wait over there a minute."

That was it. That was all he said. But it was enough.

The brand meant something. It meant everything.

As he rode off, Rip turned to her. "Teeter—go get your gear. Put it back in the bunkhouse."

She stood frozen for a second, like she didn't believe what she'd just heard. Then, catching my eye, she let out a sharp breath, nodded, and took off toward the bunkhouse.

She'd fought for her place. And won.

—-

Teeter's return was marked with a celebration—gathered on the sofa, eyes glued to the television, watching the horses my father and I had bought compete. The tension in the room crackled as we waited to see who would take home the prize.

"Yeah, motherfucker!" Teeter hollered at the screen as our horse cut the steer with precision.

"Whoo! That is huge," Ryan shouted, his excitement infectious.

"Is that a Yellerstone horse?" Teeter asked, squinting at the screen.

"Yep, that's one of ours," I told her, grinning. "The last few have been."

Ryan slung an arm around me, still buzzing with energy. "Baby, when we get married, you think Travis will finally let me ride one of those sons of bitches?"

I smirked, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see what I can do, cowboy."

Colby shook his head, turning to Teeter. "It's not Yellerstone, it's Yellowstone."

"Whatever you say, baby," she smirked, "just take your pants off."

Ryan scoffed. "Other room. Take your pants off in the other room."

The bunkhouse quieted as the door swung open. Lloyd stepped inside, his gaze locked on Walker. A heavy silence settled over us as we braced for whatever was coming next—half expecting another punch to be thrown.

But instead of fists, Lloyd handed Walker a guitar case.

"I don't know shit about 'em," Lloyd admitted. "Guy at the store said it was a good one."

Walker took the case, setting it down before flipping it open. He ran a hand over the smooth wood, then pulled the guitar out, inspecting it like it was the first real thing he'd owned in a long time.

"Well," Walker said, his voice edged with amusement, "it's a hell of a lot better'n the one you fuckin' tore up."

"As it should be," Lloyd replied, his tone gruff but sincere.

Walker strummed a few chords, the warm, rich sound filling the room.

"Sounds good," I told him, throwing Lloyd an approving smile.

Walker glanced up, meeting Lloyd's eyes. "Anything you'd like to hear?"

Lloyd hesitated for only a second before shrugging. "Hell, I don't know… just play me one."

We listened as Walker played a soulful song for Lloyd. The tension that was once in the bunkhouse had been forgotten. They may not be the best of friends after that, but they now had an understanding. And that was enough.

"Hey, cowboy," I murmured, slipping my arm around his waist, pressing in close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. "I got something I want to show you. Grab your coat."

Ryan quirked a brow, his blue eyes studying me with curiosity. "More surprises?"

I smiled, tilting my head as I looked up at him. "I think you'll like it."

He didn't question me further, just grabbed my jacket from the hook, helping me slip my arms into it before shrugging into his own. He adjusted the collar, then reached for his hat, settling it into place with an easy familiarity.

"Ready?" he asked, reaching for my hand.

"I am," I said, threading my fingers through his as we stepped outside into the night.

The snow fell softly around us, catching in his hair and the brim of his hat, dusting the ground in a thin, glittering layer. The cold was sharp, but the warmth of his hand in mine was enough to keep the chill at bay. Our boots crunched over the frost as I led him toward Lee's cabin, the old place standing quiet and still in the moonlight.

Ryan looked around as we approached, his thumb absently stroking along the back of my hand. "What are we doing out here?"

"You'll see," I said, reaching for the door.

I flipped on the light as we stepped inside. The cabin smelled of aged wood and lingering memories, but it didn't feel haunted—not anymore. It felt like something waiting to be filled, a space ready to be lived in again.

Ryan glanced around, taking in the familiar room, his expression unreadable.

"What do you think about staying here with me?" I asked, turning to face him fully.

His gaze snapped back to mine, his brow furrowing slightly. "For the night?"

I took a slow breath, steadying myself before stepping closer, placing a hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my palm.

"For our life," I said softly.

Ryan stared at me for a long moment, searching my face, the weight of my words settling between us. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips, warm and certain.

"You really want that?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.

I nodded. "I do."

His arms came around me, pulling me against him, his hold strong and sure. "Then I guess I better make myself at home."