I wasn't exactly looking forward to the drive. The cold had settled in, and the snow was starting to fall in slow, lazy flakes, the kind that promised a long, miserable trip. But Jamie hadn't returned my calls or texts. Every time, straight to fucking voicemail. No explanation. No acknowledgment. Just silence.

It was fucking infuriating.

I knew he'd have some excuse—something rational, something carefully worded, something that dodged the real reason he'd been avoiding me. But damn it, I wanted my brother back. I wanted to look him in the eyes and get my own answers, not the ones Beth had decided were true. She'd unilaterally declared Jamie the mastermind behind the attack on our family, and maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn't. But I needed to hear it from him.

More than that, I needed him to know I was still here. That no matter how deep the divide between him and the rest of us, I wasn't ready to throw away my brother.

And if he'd just answered his damn phone, I wouldn't have to drive four hours to Helena in the middle of a goddamn snowstorm to tell him that.

I sang along to the song on the radio, my voice barely carrying over the mix of '90s country, hip-hop, and pop blasting through the speakers. It was the kind of playlist I wouldn't dare play with anyone else in the truck—too personal, too telling. But out here, alone on the open road, I could sing every word, off-key and unfiltered, without a damn bit of shame.

I belted out 9 to 5 at the top of my lungs as I pulled into the parking lot of the government office, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. A few people passed by, glancing my way, but I barely acknowledged them. It was Dolly—there was no way in hell I was stopping mid-song.

By the time the last note played, I was fired up and ready to storm into my brother's office. If he wouldn't answer my damn calls, I'd get my answers face-to-face.

I stepped through the doors of the state capitol building. Got patted down and walked through metal detectors.

"What floor is Jamie Dutton's office on?" I asked the guard.

"Second floor, ma'am," he said.

I stormed up the stairs. I stopped and straightened my top before I walked through the door.

"Do you have an appointment?" his secretary asked.

"I don't need a fucking appointment to see my brother," I grumbled as I moved past her and into Jamie's office.

"What are you doing here?" Jamie looked up from his computer screen.

"I came to see if you need a new phone," I stated.

Jamie sighed, rubbing his temples. "My phone works just fine."

"Funny, because every time I call, it goes straight to voicemail," I shot back, crossing my arms. "So either your phone is broken, or you're just ignoring me."

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose like I was already exhausting him. "I've been busy."

"Too busy to answer your sister's calls?" I challenged, stepping closer to his desk. "Too busy to let me know you're still alive? Because I had to drive four hours in the snow just to lay eyes on you."

Jamie glanced toward the door, probably wondering if his secretary was listening. "You shouldn't be here."

I scoffed. "And why the hell not? Am I gonna tarnish your precious image, Jamie? Or are you just scared to look me in the eye and tell me the truth?"

He let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already done with this conversation. "Alex…"

"Alex, what?" I huffed, dropping into the chair across from him, folding my arms. "Did you decide I wasn't worth your time when you couldn't use me to manipulate your way back home? Or is this about the ranch—seeing what you can weasel out of it before you hand it over to the highest bidder?"

Jamie's jaw tightened, and his fingers curled against the desk. "I'm trying to protect the ranch," he said, his voice calmer than I expected.

I let out a sharp laugh. "By leasing it out to people who want to steal it away from us?"

"If I didn't, they would actually steal it from us," he snapped, eyes flashing with frustration.

I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes. "You really believe that, don't you? You think cutting a deal with them makes you some kind of savior." I shook my head. "You're not protecting the ranch, Jamie. You're selling pieces of it off and calling it a sacrifice."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he looked away, his fingers drumming against the desk. "You don't understand the position I'm in."

"No," I shot back. "You don't understand the position we're in. The people you're working with don't just want a piece of the ranch—they want all of it. You're feeding the wolves, Jamie, and you're too damn blind to see they're still going to eat you."

Jamie sighed, rubbing his temples like he was trying to ward off a headache. "This is the only way to keep most of the ranch whole," he insisted. "Dad wouldn't sell it to them outright."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Do you really think the chunk you leased for the fucking airport is going to satiate them?" I leaned forward, voice sharp and unrelenting. "They're not just going to take their piece and walk away, Jamie. They'll keep coming back, taking more and more, until there's nothing left."

Jamie pressed his lips into a thin line, his shoulders tense. "It's what I can do for now."

I stared at him, feeling the frustration start to twist into something else—something heavier. "Jamie," I said, my voice cracking despite myself. "I miss you. And you're here being fucking stupid."

He flinched, just barely, but I caught it. It was the first real reaction I'd seen from him that wasn't calculated, wasn't part of the defensive wall he'd built around himself. For a moment, there was silence between us, thick with everything unspoken, everything lost between who we used to be and who we were now.

Jamie let out a slow breath, his fingers drumming anxiously against the desk. "I don't think he ever really wanted me," he admitted, voice quieter now, like he wasn't sure he even wanted to say it out loud.

I tilted my head, studying him. "Dad?" I asked, though I already knew. This was the first real conversation we'd had since he found out the truth about his birth parents. And yeah, I'd snooped—because how the hell else was I supposed to find out anything?

"Dad loves you, Jamie. That's why what you're doing hurts him so much."

He shook his head, looking down like he was trying to keep himself together. "I found him."

I stilled. "The asshole that contributed to your DNA?" I asked, my tone sharpening. "The same one that took your birth mother away from you?"

Jamie's jaw tightened, and I watched his expression shift—torn, conflicted, caught between the father who raised him and the man whose blood ran through his veins. It was like watching a man stand at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to turn back or take the leap.

Jamie's lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers tightening into a fist before he released them, exhaling like he was trying to keep control of himself. "He's not like that," he said, his voice defensive, but not angry. "I reached out to him to find out who I am. Who I could be if I wasn't John Dutton's son. Because, face it, I never was his son—not in the way that mattered."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You didn't need some stranger to tell you who you are, Jamie." My voice softened, but the frustration remained. "I know who you are. I've always known. But I can't make you see it." I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. "You're my brother. I don't care if we don't share blood. That never mattered to me."

Jamie swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looked away. "How long have you known?"

I hesitated for only a second before answering. "I didn't know for sure until you did," I admitted. "But I suspected."

His eyes flicked back to mine, searching.

"I remembered the way Mom talked about giving birth to me and Kayce—how hard it was, how much pain she was in. She talked about how big Lee was, how easy Beth was. But every time she talked about you, she never mentioned any of that. You were always her 'gift from God.'"

Jamie let out a shaky breath, looking down at his hands. He didn't argue, didn't fight me on it. And for the first time in a long time, I saw something flicker in his expression—something vulnerable, something lost.

Jamie's jaw clenched, his fingers drumming restlessly against the desk. "Don't let that man you just met convince you that we're not your family," I told him, leaning forward. "That I'm not your family."

His eyes flicked up to mine, something uncertain flickering there. "You'll always be my family, Alex," he admitted softly. "But I don't know what that means anymore."

I exhaled sharply, frustration and heartache mixing in my chest. "Maybe it's time you figured it out." I studied him, waiting for him to argue, to fight me on this. "That man is a snake, Jamie. He's using you. Not because you're his 'son'—because he was never your father. Not in any way that matters."

Jamie flinched, but I didn't let up.

"I'm tired of seeing you let people walk all over you. You're smarter than that. You're better than that."

His expression darkened. "It's not that simple, Alex."

I shook my head. "You need to make it that simple." My voice softened just enough to let him know I wasn't just mad—I was hurt. "I'm getting married soon. And I need you there."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Married?"

I nodded. "Yeah. And I want my brother standing there with me."

Jamie ran a hand down his face, exhaling heavily. "Jesus, Alex…"

"Yeah, well, you've been a little out of the loop." I forced a smirk, trying to lighten the moment, but the weight between us was still there. "So… are you coming or what?"

"If you still want me there," he responded, "I'll be there."

"I want you there," I smiled at him, "I'll make sure you and Beth are seated on the opposite sides of the ranch but I want you there." I stood from my seat and rounded the desk. Slipping my arms around his waist, "Just answer your damn phone when I call."

Jamie hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around me, his hold tight like he was afraid to let go. "I will," he promised, his voice quieter now.

I sighed against his shoulder. "Good. Because I hate having to drive all the way to Helena just to knock some sense into you."

He let out a soft chuckle. "I'd say I'll do better, but… you know me."

I pulled back just enough to look up at him. "Yeah, I do. That's why I'm not holding my breath." I smirked, patting his chest. "But I'm holding you to that promise."

Jamie nodded, something unreadable passing over his expression. "I'll be there, Alex."

Satisfied, I stepped back. "Good. Now, I gotta get back before the roads turn to shit."

Jamie watched me for a moment, then gave me a small, genuine smile. "Drive safe."

"I always do." I shot him a wink before turning toward the door.

I didn't know if I had really gotten through to him, but at least for now, he was still my brother. And that was enough.

—-

My phone rang just a couple of hours after I pulled onto the highway back home.

Ryan

I clicked the button on the truck, letting the sound of his voice play through the speakers, "This better be good you interrupted my duet with George Strait."

I heard him chuckle, "Sorry to interrupt you and George, baby. Just wanted to see if you were headed back, yet. Snow's starting to come down heavy here."

"I should be home in an hour or so," I told him, "almost to the Bozeman exit."

"Be careful, if you want I can meet you there and bring you home," he said.

I smiled at the offer, warmth spreading through my chest. "That's sweet, cowboy, but I think I can handle it. I've driven through worse."

"I know," he admitted, "but I'd feel better if I was the one behind the wheel, getting you home safe."

I glanced at the snowflakes hitting my windshield, heavier now than when I left Helena. "I appreciate it, Ryan. But if it gets too bad, I'll pull over."

He sighed. "Promise?"

"Promise."

There was a brief pause before he spoke again. "Alright. But you call me if anything changes. I'll come get you, no matter where you are."

My grip on the wheel tightened slightly at the sincerity in his voice. "I know you would," I murmured. "I love you, you know that?"

"I do," he said, and I could practically hear his smile. "And I love you, too. Now hurry home."

"I'll be home soon," I assured him with a smile, then started singing, "'Cause I'm carrying your love with me…" My voice wasn't perfect, but I knew he'd appreciate it.

Ryan chuckled, the warmth in his laughter making my chest tighten in the best way. "Alright, you and George stay safe out there, baby."

"We will," I promised. "I'll see you soon."

"Can't wait."

The call ended, but his voice lingered in my mind. I glanced at the darkening sky, snowflakes swirling faster against my headlights. The storm was picking up, but I wasn't worried. Not when I had someone waiting for me—someone who loved me, someone who'd drop everything to come find me if I needed him.

—-

I shivered as I climbed out of the truck, my breath visible in the freezing air. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I trudged toward the bunkhouse, the fresh snow crunching under my boots.

"It is cold as a son of a bitch out there," I grumbled, pushing through the door. The warmth inside hit me instantly, and I stomped the snow off my boots on the rug, shaking off the chill.

Ryan was already on his feet, reaching for me. "You made it just in time, baby." He helped me shrug out of my coat, his hands lingering just long enough to send warmth radiating through me before he wrapped me in his arms.

I exhaled against his chest, relaxing into him. "What'd I make it just in time for?"

Ryan tilted his head toward the TV. "Think your dad's gonna be on."

I pulled back, furrowing my brow. "My dad? Why the hell is he on TV?"

Colby, sprawled out on the couch, turned the volume up. "Guess we're about to find out."

I turned toward the screen just as the image of my father appeared. He stood at a podium, a suit and his ever-present cowboy hat making him look just as out of place as he did in a church pew. His stance was solid, immovable, like the land he'd spent his life protecting. Then his voice rang out, steady and firm.

"If it's progress you seek, do not vote for me." His words carried weight, the kind that settled deep in your bones. "I am the opposite of progress. I'm the wall that it bashes against, and I will not be the one who breaks."

I stared at the screen, barely breathing.

My father was running for governor.

—-

I ran my fingers along the worn edge of the wooden table, memories of Lee lingering in every inch of this cabin. The scent of aged pine and leather still clung to the air, mixing with the faint chill seeping in through the windows. My father stood beside me, arms crossed, his gaze heavy with understanding as he watched me take it all in.

"Are you sure you're okay with me changing things, Dad?" My voice was softer than I intended, the weight of my hesitation pressing down on me.

He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment before he turned to face me fully. "It's yours now, sweetheart."

I nodded, but doubt still gnawed at the edges of my resolve.

Sensing it, he stepped closer, reaching out to place a hand over my heart. "Lee's still here." His touch was firm but gentle. "You're not pushing him out. He's giving you room."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, glancing around the cabin once more. It still felt like him, but maybe—just maybe—there was space for me here too.

I ran a cloth over the wooden furniture, clearing away the thin layer of dust that had settled in the quiet absence of life. Lee's things were still here, untouched, as if he might walk through the door at any moment. Carefully, I folded his shirts and placed them into a box, but I hesitated when I reached his hat. It hung on the rack by the door, exactly where he'd last left it. I couldn't take it down. Not yet. It was a piece of him, a silent reminder that he'd been here, that he'd lived.

As I turned back toward the table, my fingers brushed against the edge of a framed photograph. I picked it up, a small smile tugging at my lips.

"I must've been six or seven here?" I held it up for Dad to see. The image was of Lee, standing tall with his hand wrapped around the reins of a horse, while I sat on top, my hair in messy pigtails, my little hands gripping the saddle horn.

Dad took the picture from me, studying it with quiet reverence.

"I remember that day," I murmured, nostalgia warming my voice. "He was helping me because my legs couldn't reach the stirrups."

A flicker of emotion crossed Dad's face, something between pride and grief. "He always looked out for you."

I nodded, pressing the frame close to my chest for a moment before setting it gently back on the table. "Yeah," I whispered. "He did."

I exhaled, feeling the weight of my own thoughts settle over me. "I went to see Jamie," I confessed, almost as if I needed permission to say it out loud—as if admitting it might betray the rest of my family. But he was still my brother. That had to mean something.

Dad didn't look surprised. "I know it wasn't him that was behind what happened," he said simply.

I nodded, absorbing his words. "I don't know if Beth really believes Jamie is responsible, or if she just needs another reason to hate him. Something that will make you hate him, too."

Dad let out a slow sigh, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I know, sweetheart." His voice was heavy, edged with something unspoken. He didn't elaborate. Instead, he gathered up the boxes I had packed and headed for the door.

I followed him onto the porch, watching as he loaded them onto the back of the truck. The cold air bit at my skin, but it didn't stop the warmth that curled in my chest at his next words.

"The man behind it is rotting in prison as we speak."

I studied his face, searching for any hint of doubt. There was none. It should have been reassuring. It should have been enough. But then why did it still feel like something wasn't finished?

My stomach twisted with the weight of Dad's words, but I held my ground. "How much longer is he gonna be in prison?" I asked, my voice steady, but the question still heavy with the underlying rage I couldn't shake.

Dad's response was quick and decisive. "The rest of his miserable fucking life," he said, his tone hard. Then, with a dark glint in his eyes, he added, "I'm making arrangements so that the life he has left isn't much longer."

The words hit me like a slap, and I froze. Dad had never spoken like this to me—not about the violence, the dirty work, the things that had to be done to keep the ranch safe. That was Rip's world, Kayce's world. Not mine. But here we were, standing on the porch with the biting wind between us, and he was telling me something that made my blood run cold.

I swallowed hard. "Good." The word came out sharp, almost a whisper. "The less air on this earth I have to share with him, the better."

Dad's gaze softened slightly as he turned back to the truck. But the heaviness of the moment didn't lift. I knew exactly what he meant. And I couldn't help but feel that, for all the power and protection he offered, there was a price. There always was.

Dad grunted as he dropped the last box from the truck, rubbing his back with an exaggerated groan. "You ready to unload all of your boxes?" he asked, his voice a mix of humor and exhaustion.

I flashed him a grin, leaning against the truck. "You ready to get rid of me already?" I teased, giving him a playful look.

He smirked, shaking his head. "You're not going far, I can toss a rock at your door from the back porch," he said with a shrug, the familiar weight of his love and protection woven in the casual remark.

I smiled, the lump in my throat a little tighter than I'd expected. "I love you, Dad."

He grunted again, this time more in frustration than fatigue. "Why do you have so much shit?" he groaned as he lugged the last of the boxes from his truck bed.

I laughed, shaking my head at him. "Sorry, I'm not more like Kayce, who's been wearing the same two pairs of jeans for the last five years."

Dad let out a short, amused snort, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened seemed to lift just a little bit. We stood there together, the air filled with the scent of wood and earth, the day slowly fading into the evening light. It felt like home in a way I hadn't realized I'd been missing.

"I'll leave you to it," he said as he brought the last of my boxes into the cabin.

"Ok, Dad," I watched him walk back to the big house before stepping back inside to make Lee's cabin a home for me and Ryan.

I unpacked everything and glanced at the clock, it would still be another hour before Ryan came back from the fields. So I opened my laptop to search for the name of the man who ordered the hit on my father. His mug shot flashed on the screen. His eyes were cold and unnerving.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the mug shot on the screen, feeling a chill run down my spine. His face, cold and calculating, seemed to burn into my mind as though he could reach through the screen and drag me into whatever dark world he came from. I shook my head, frustration building.

This man—this stranger—had chosen to go after our family, and I still couldn't piece together why. He didn't know us. He didn't care about our history. It didn't make sense.

I clicked through a few more pages, trying to find some kind of connection, something that explained why this guy was so determined to target my family. The more I read, the more I felt like I was hitting a brick wall. A name here, a few records there, but nothing that pointed to a clear reason. Nothing that told me how his hatred had been aimed at us.

I glanced out the window, hearing the sound of horses in the distance, a reminder of everything my father and the family had built. This wasn't just some random act of violence; it was a message. But who was the message for? Who was the real target?

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Why us?" I whispered to myself.

The front door creaked open, pulling me from my thoughts. Ryan's voice filtered in, low and steady. "You still at it?"

I closed the laptop with a soft click. "Yeah. Just... trying to make sense of things."

Ryan stepped inside, wiping his boots on the mat. His gaze fell to the laptop, then back to me. "You sure you want to know everything? You can only fight what's coming at you if you understand it."

I nodded slowly, but the words felt hollow. I didn't know if I was ready for the kind of truth this would bring, but I didn't have much of a choice anymore.

"Where's all your stuff?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed. "You not ready to leave the bunkhouse yet?"

He dropped his duffle bag onto the floor with a thud, giving me that grin I couldn't help but melt for. "I'll bring my trunk up here later."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the lone bag. "That's all you've got? I just unpacked a dozen or so boxes, and I still have a closet full of clothes in my room."

He leaned against the doorframe, looking me up and down with a smirk. "Baby, you have too much shit."

I rolled my eyes playfully, shaking my head. "You sound like my dad."

Ryan chuckled and slid his arms around my waist, pulling me in closer. "Well, your dad's not wrong." He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my temple. "I don't need all that stuff. Just need you, a few shirts, and some boots to get me through."

I laughed, feeling the weight of the last few days melt off me in his arms. "You're lucky you're cute," I said, resting my head against his chest. "If you weren't, I might've packed you a suitcase just to make up for it."

He chuckled again, rubbing my back gently. "Good thing I'm cute, then."

"Yeah, it's a good thing," I agreed, looking up at him with a soft smile. "But seriously, don't let me catch you leaving the rest of your stuff in that bunkhouse for too long. I'm not running back and forth for your shit."

He kissed me again, this time on the lips, and pulled back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guess I better get started, huh?"

"That can wait until later," I said, sliding my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Dinner is in the oven."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a playful smile. "Dinner?"

I nodded, smirking back at him. "Hope you like deep dish, cowboy. I got the best frozen pizza money could buy."

Ryan laughed, his chest rumbling against me. "Well, now you've really got me intrigued. You sure know how to spoil a guy."

I grinned up at him. "Hey, it's all about the little things."

His arms tightened around me, and his face softened with that look I loved. "Little things are my favorite," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips to mine in a slow, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he looked at me with that mischievous glint. "But, you know, after dinner, I might just have to claim the rest of the night for myself."

"Good thing I'm not planning on going anywhere," I whispered, letting the heat between us build, knowing that once dinner was done, we'd both be ready to settle into something a lot more... exciting.

I pulled the pizza out of the oven, sliced it up, and we settled onto the couch, the warmth of the pizza and Ryan's arm around me offering comfort after the day's weight. We turned on the television, and the soft hum of the screen filled the room as we both dug into our food.

The lady on the news had a steady voice, but the story she was reporting hit too close to home. "...The local militia responsible for the shooting at Ruby's Diner, which tragically took the life of Sheriff Donnie Haskell. The assailants were neutralized by Former Livestock Commissioner John Dutton, who has since been lauded for his heroics."

I felt a chill run down my spine. They were talking about my dad, the man I had spent my entire life idolizing, but now the world saw him in a different light. "My father can't keep himself out of bad situations," I groaned, rolling my eyes as I leaned back against Ryan's chest.

The reporter continued, "...and thanks to his quick thinking, several other lives were spared in what could have been a much deadlier situation."

Ryan looked down at me, sensing the weight of my words. "Your dad really can't help but get into the thick of things, can he?"

I nodded, but my gaze stayed fixed on the screen as they showed footage of my father standing tall, his presence commanding. It wasn't just the heroism on display—it was the reminder that he was always in the thick of it, making hard choices. That wasn't always easy to stomach.

"I've always thought of Dad as a hero," I muttered, barely aware I was speaking out loud. "Now the rest of Montana knows it too. Whether he likes it or not, people are seeing him as something more than just the tough rancher."

Ryan's arm tightened around me in a way that was meant to comfort. "He doesn't need the spotlight, but he's not the type to shy away from what's right."

I exhaled deeply, letting his words sink in. "I just… I don't know, Ryan. I hate that he's always out there, making those decisions that affect us all. But I can't deny that he's always been there for us, too."

Ryan was quiet for a moment before he kissed the top of my head. "Maybe that's why you're so much like him, Alex. You carry that same fire."

"This can only help him with his run for governor," I told him. "Common, let's head down to the bunkhouse. There's not enough noise here and I'm feeling antsy."

I slipped my boots on and tugged on my coat.

"I think you just need an audience," he chuckled as he followed after me.

"I don't need an audience," I smirked, pulling my coat tighter around me as we stepped out into the cold night air. "I just need a little chaos to take my mind off things."

Ryan shook his head, his breath visible in the chilly air. "Uh-huh, and where do you always find that chaos?"

I grinned. "The bunkhouse."

As we made our way down the path, the distant sound of laughter and music spilled from the bunkhouse, a stark contrast to the quiet stillness of Lee's cabin. I could already picture Colby and Teeter arguing over a card game, Lloyd giving them both hell.

Ryan opened the door, and the warmth and noise hit us instantly.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," Colby called out.

"Alex, thought you were too fancy for us up in the big house?" Walker added with a teasing smirk.

"Well someone has to class up the joint," I gave him a grin, "So I guess tonight Fancy is my name." I watched as Rip stood behind Carter at the table. The kid was holding his own in the game against the others.

"Y'all want in the next hand?" Colby asked.

"I think I'll just watch and learn from the master," I said.

"It's about time you realized it," Colby responded.

"Not you," I chuckled sliding my chair next to Carter, "Looks like he's taking you for all you're worth."

Carter smirked, glancing up at me with that spark of mischief in his eyes. "Ain't my fault they underestimate me."

"You hear that?" I nudged Colby with my elbow. "Kid's got confidence."

Colby huffed, shuffling the deck. "Confidence don't mean shit if you can't back it up."

Carter leaned forward, stacking his small pile of winnings. "You sure about that? 'Cause last I checked, I got more chips than you."

The bunkhouse erupted into laughter, and even Rip cracked a small, approving grin behind Carter.

I grinned at the kid, popping the top off my beer. "You keep that up, and they're gonna stop letting you play."

Walker strummed his guitar from the corner. "Kid's gonna clean 'em out and start running the place soon."

Ryan dropped into the chair beside me, draping an arm over the back of it. "Long as he don't start bossing me around, I got no problem with it."

Carter shot him a cheeky grin. "No promises."

I glanced up at Rip, smirking. "You and the missus already having a lover's spat?"

He let out a low chuckle. "Nah, Beth's up there getting her ass whooped by your father."

I nodded knowingly. "Glad I decided to come here instead of there tonight."

Across the table, Colby whistled, shaking his head. "Look at this kid. I think he's done this before."

"It's my first time," Carter insisted, casually shuffling the cards in the air with practiced ease.

Ryan narrowed his eyes as he picked up his hand. "You're flipping cards like a damn Vegas dealer."

Carter grinned. "First time actually playing." Then, without hesitation, he tossed money into the pile. "Triple it."

Ryan leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Triple the bet, huh?"

"This little card-sharking motherfucker," Lloyd chuckled, shaking his head.

"Ain't no kid," Teeter groaned. "He's just a motherfucking, card-sharkin' little elf."

"Yeah, you tell him, baby," Colby said, amused.

Teeter's lips curled into a grin. "I love it when you call me baby. You wanna scratch me behind the ears?"

"No," Colby deadpanned.

"What about my other ears?" she teased, waggling her brows.

"Don't start," Rip warned, cutting his eyes at them. "And don't listen to them, kid."

I rolled my eyes. "Get a room, you two."

Carter ignored the banter, keeping his focus on the game. "Here's the flop."

Ryan arched a brow. "The flop? He even knows the terminology. Where the hell did you find him, a goddamn circus?"

"A poker circus?" Colby scoffed. "That's just disrespectful."

"I love it," Rip admitted, watching the kid with amusement.

Colby eyed me, suspicious. "You know what he's got."

I smirked but kept my lips sealed. "I ain't saying shit."

Colby huffed. "Alright, well…"

"Check," Lloyd called.

"Ain't no checking today," Carter declared, tossing another twenty onto the table.

Lloyd let out a defeated sigh, shaking his head as he folded. "Well, hell, looks like it's down to the kid and the unluckiest card player on earth now." Glancing over at Ryan.

Walker shook his head as he stepped away from the table. "I wonder how that's gonna work out."

"Do we, though?" I arched a brow, watching Carter with growing amusement.

"All right, he's got something," Teeter muttered, narrowing her eyes at the kid.

Carter calmly turned over the cards. "And the river."

Ryan leaned forward, smirking. "You're fucked, kid."

Carter tilted his head, completely unfazed. "Do you have a boat?"

Colby groaned. "Listen to this fucking kid. Boat."

Teeter suddenly launched into an indecipherable rant, her words tumbling together in a chaotic mess. "He's a cheatin' little mother-fuckin' squirrely-haired twat-mouth cunt mother-fuckin' face of a death nose—"

Carter blinked and turned to me. "What's wrong with her?"

I smirked. "What do you mean?"

"Did she bite off her tongue or something?"

The table erupted in laughter.

"Fuck you! Don't laugh at that shit!" Teeter barked, crossing her arms.

Rip laughed so hard he started choking.

Lloyd glanced over, confused. "What the hell's so funny back there?"

Rip, still gasping for air, managed between fits of laughter, "He's kicking your ass and talking shit at the same time."

Carter leaned forward, cool as ever. "Pot's right. Let's do it." He locked eyes with Ryan.

Ryan exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah, that's right. I do have the boat, you little bastard. Aces up." He turned over an ace and a seven.

Teeter smirked. "I think it's past your bedtime, kid."

Carter didn't blink. "So did I."

Then, as smooth as ever, he flipped over two aces.

The whole table groaned as Carter casually slid the chips in front of him.

Colby threw his hands in the air. "He had the same exact cards last time."

I grinned. "Y'all sure you weren't just set up by a real card shark?"