I stood next to the vet, bracing myself for the conversation I was about to have with Jimmy. There was no easy way to put it, but as the low man, he wasn't exactly in a position to argue. And today's task? Well, it was quite literally a shit job.

Jimmy looked down at the long glove that now covered his entire arm, then at the cow standing patiently in front of him, blissfully unaware of what was coming.

"Go easy," I advised as he hesitated. "She may not need you to sweet-talk her, but it ain't exactly fun for her either."

Jimmy let out a deep sigh, sliding his hand under the cow's tail with an expression that suggested he was already regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. "Why are we going in this way and not the other?" he asked, his face twisted in uncertainty.

I bit back a laugh. "It's easier to feel her uterus through the anal wall—it's pretty thin."

Jimmy still didn't look convinced.

"When you get in there, feel around for the uterus. If she's pregnant, you'll be able to tell by the swelling. Just don't squeeze any tighter than you'd want someone squeezing your balls."

Colby snorted. "That might not be the best analogy, Alex. I think Jimmy might be into pain—man can't stop getting himself hurt."

Jimmy shot him a glare. "And why aren't you doing this?"

I smirked. "Because I did most of the pregnancy checks yesterday." I crossed my arms, watching as Jimmy grimaced and slowly—very slowly—worked his way in. "Besides, this is a rite of passage. Welcome to cowboy life."

Jimmy groaned. "Yeah, well, cowboy life fucking stinks."

Colby chuckled. "Ain't that the damn truth."

"You finally got to third base, Jimmy," Rip teased as Jimmy's arm slid in, eliciting a chuckle from everyone there. Everyone except Jimmy.

"How's he doing down there, sweetheart?" Dad called.

"I think Jimmy might have a new girlfriend," I called back. "But I think you're making him nervous."

"Hey Jimmy," Kayce called from the end of the line of cows, "don't worry there's only about sixty left."

Jimmy started to retch. "Sixty?"

The laughter died in an instant.

One second, we were all teasing Jimmy as he gagged his way through his new least-favorite ranch task. The next, my dad was on the ground, his face ashen, coughing so hard it rattled in his chest.

"Dad!" My stomach lurched as I rushed to his side, dropping to my knees in the dirt beside him. "Call 911!"

"There's no time for that," Kayce said sharply. "Get his vest off."

Lloyd was already kneeling beside me, helping me work the thick material off my father's shoulders. His breathing was shallow, and when he coughed again, dark red spattered the dirt.

"Get him into my trailer," the vet ordered. Kayce and Lloyd hauled Dad to his feet, practically carrying him toward the steps of the trailer. The vet cleared off a large exam table—one normally meant for dogs or calves—but today, it would have to do for my father.

"Turn him on his side, so he doesn't choke on his vomit," she instructed, glancing at me. "Alex, grab the x-ray machine. I need to see what we're dealing with."

I moved on autopilot, wheeling the portable x-ray unit over while Kayce and Lloyd adjusted Dad's position. My hands trembled as I powered the machine on, but I forced myself to focus. I'd done this dozens of times before—just never on my father.

Dad let out a pained groan. "It's colon cancer," he rasped, trying to wave the vet off.

"If it was colon, you'd be shitting blood, not spitting it up," she shot back. "Now shut up and lay down."

The screen flickered to life, revealing an image that had my stomach twisting.

"All I see is blood," I muttered, my mind a mess of fear and medical knowledge tangled together.

The vet's finger stabbed at a dark mass on the screen. "It's a ruptured ulcer."

"We need to get him to the hospital," Kayce said immediately.

I shook my head, my pulse hammering in my ears. "It's too much blood… he'll bleed out before we even get him there."

The vet's jaw clenched. "I can only give him a local anesthetic and that's it. I don't know the algebra to adjust the dosage on the anesthesia without killing him." She scanned the room. "Any of you got medical experience?"

"I was a medic in the Navy," Kayce answered.

She nodded. "Good. Then you're in." Her eyes landed on me next. "I need two people to hold him down. Alex, grab the iodine—pour it on."

My hands shook as I grabbed the bottle. There wasn't time to hesitate, to process, to let this be the last moment I had with my father. I had to move. I forced my fear down and dumped the liquid over his exposed stomach.

"It's okay, Daddy," I whispered, squeezing his hand as Rip and Lloyd pinned his shoulders.

The vet worked quickly, slicing into the swollen flesh with steady hands. Blood welled up instantly, but Kayce was already reaching in, fingers working fast to stop the hemorrhaging. The acrid scent of cauterization filled the air as the vet sealed the wound shut, the hiss of burning flesh making my stomach turn.

"You're doing great, Daddy," I murmured, though my voice wavered as I watched his face contort in agony.

Finally, his body went limp. The pain, the blood loss—it had finally pulled him under.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping his hand like a lifeline. "Stay with us, Dad."

The roar of the ranch helicopter vibrated through my chest, snapping me out of my daze. The vet's hands moved fast, stitching my father's wound closed with the efficiency of someone used to working on animals, not people. The moment she finished wrapping the bandages tight, Lloyd and Kayce hoisted him up between them. His body was limp, head lolling slightly, but his chest was still rising and falling. He was still here.

They carried him across the yard, past the bunkhouse, past the cattle pens, straight to the waiting chopper. The blades whipped the air into a frenzy, kicking up dust and hay as Kayce climbed in behind them.

"I'll go with him," Kayce shouted over the noise, settling into the seat beside our father. He met my eyes, his expression hard but not unfeeling. "Meet you there."

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

The chopper lifted off, and I watched until it disappeared over the horizon, swallowed by the endless Montana sky. The world around me felt muted, distant, like I was watching it happen to someone else.

I glanced down. My boots were caked in cow shit, my hands stained with my father's blood. The stark contrast of life and death, of the brutal reality we lived every day, settled deep in my bones.

"Come on," I felt Ryan's hand steady on my shoulder, "truck is ready. Let's go."

—-

Two days later, Kayce pulled the truck through the ranch gates, the familiar rumble of the engine drawing everyone's attention. Dad was okay. Bruised, stitched up, and mean as ever—but okay.

He sure as hell didn't want a crowd waiting for him when he got home. Didn't want anyone fussing, checking in on him, or—God forbid—telling him to take it easy. But that wasn't how things worked around here.

We would fuss. We would hover. And he would grumble about it, curse under his breath, and bark at us to leave him the hell alone.

Because that's what family did.

And deep down, beneath all that gruff exterior, he knew it.

I lingered outside my father's office, cradling a cup of hot tea between my hands. I knew he'd grumble about it, maybe even refuse to drink it outright, but that wasn't going to stop me from insisting.

Inside, I could hear him talking to Kayce, their voices low but firm—discussing something they probably wouldn't bother telling me until they deemed it necessary. That was the way of things around here. If I wanted to know anything, I had to figure it out myself.

"Stop eavesdroppin', Alex, and get in here," Dad barked.

I straightened, pushing the door open, feigning innocence. "I wasn't."

He snorted. "Yeah, you were."

Busted. No sense in arguing. I walked over and set the tea down on his desk.

He eyed it like it was poison. "I ain't drinkin' that shit."

"Yes, you are," I shot back, arms crossing over my chest.

He grumbled under his breath, but I caught the way his fingers twitched toward the cup. Stubborn old man.

I watched my brother's fingers absently thumb over the livestock agent badge in his hand—the one that used to belong to Lee. It was official now. Things were shifting. Kayce was home. I hoped for good this time.

But his family wasn't here.

I hadn't been able to get him to open up about what really happened between him and Monica after her accident. She left him. That was all he'd say. That was all he would tell any of us.

The weight of silence hung between us, heavier than the badge in his hand.

"Why haven't you mentioned them or what happened?" I finally asked the question that had been lingering in the air since Kayce came home.

"What's talkin' about it gonna do?" Kayce responded.

"Might help you figure it out," I said, "and how to get them back."

"When Lee ran this place," Dad said leaning against his desk, "he was honest and he was fair. But you can't be that way with others if you're not that way with yourself."

"I miss them," Kayce's voice was shaky.

"What happened?" Dad asked pointedly.

"You happened, Dad," he responded, "then everything happened." Kayce turned and walked out of the room.

I let out a slow breath, my eyes following Kayce as he disappeared down the hall. His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, cutting through the room like a blade.

Dad exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he stared down at his desk. He didn't argue. Didn't deny it. He just stood there, arms crossed, jaw tight.

"He's got a point," I said carefully, watching for his reaction.

Dad's gaze snapped up to me, sharp and assessing, but he said nothing.

I sighed and shook my head. "You wanna keep him here? Keep this family together? Then maybe you should start by admitting what we all already know."

Dad didn't answer. He just reached for the damn tea I brought him and took a sip.

I started down the hall when my father's voice cut through the quiet.

"Alex?"

I paused, glancing back.

"If you're heading to the bunkhouse, send Rip up to the house."

I blinked. Did he realize how much time I'd been spending there? I wasn't exactly keeping it a secret, but I didn't think he'd been paying attention.

"Yeah, I'll let him know," I said, then picked up my pace, catching up with Kayce.

"You know what Dad wants with Rip?" I asked.

Kayce didn't look at me, just kept walking. "Changes. And you're probably not gonna like 'em either."

I frowned. "What kind of changes?"

Before he could answer, Rip stormed ahead of us, shoving the bunkhouse door open so hard it nearly came off its hinges.

Kayce cursed under his breath and pushed past me, already knowing what was about to happen. I followed, stopping just in time to see Kayce yank Rip off Walker.

The tension between them had been simmering for weeks, ever since Walker helped Beth conquer her fear of horses. Now, it had finally boiled over.

Kayce shoved Rip toward the door. "My father wants to see you."

Rip shook him off and shot one last glare at Walker before stomping out.

Something was shifting. And whatever was coming next, I had a feeling none of us would like it.

The air in the bunkhouse was thick, charged with an unspoken tension that settled heavy over the room.

I let my gaze drift from Walker, his jaw clenched tight, to Colby and Jake, their eyes flicking between each other like they were waiting for someone else to make the first move. Finally, I landed on Ryan.

He was stiff, arms crossed over his chest, lips pressed into a thin line. They were all battling with themselves, trying to figure out what side of this they were gonna land on.

Rip and Walker's feud had been brewing too long. Now, the storm had finally broken. And in its aftermath, the bunkhouse wasn't just a place to sleep anymore.

Kayce packed up his things from his corner of the bunkhouse and walked out without a word. His absence left a hollow space, but the tension that had filled the room earlier had finally begun to ease.

After a while, we were all gathered around the television, watching football—Bobcats vs. Wildcats. I wasn't much for football, but I was definitely into the cowboy whose lap I was settled in and the pint of Ben & Jerry's I was working my way through.

Jimmy glanced at me, then at my ice cream, his face twisted in curiosity. "So… is it that time of the month?"

I paused mid-bite, leveling him with a glare before nudging the back of his head with the heel of my boot. "I don't think my menstrual cycle is any of your damn business, Jimmy," I said dryly. "But if I hang around you long enough, maybe ours will sync up, and then you'll know."

The bunkhouse erupted in laughter, and even Jimmy had to smirk, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the game.

"Can you explain to me why these teams have the same fucking mascot?" Jimmy asked, squinting at the TV in confusion.

"You've lived here your entire life and you can't tell the difference?" Colby shot back, clearly annoyed.

"Those are the Wild Cats," Ryan motioned toward one team, "and those are the Bob Cats."

"What's the fuckin' difference?" Jimmy asked, still baffled.

"The difference is…" Colby began, but Ryan cut him off.

"Don't listen to him, he doesn't know what he's talking about," Ryan chuckled. "A bobcat is a specific breed of cat. A wildcat is just a cat that went wild." He gripped my waist and pointed at the screen. "And that's a run."

"So, they named their entire team after a cat that just, like, got outta the house?" Jimmy asked, trying to make sense of it.

"Football isn't rocket science," I told him with a smirk.

"Y'all are ruinin' this for me," Lloyd grumbled from his corner. "Shut the fuck up."

The bunkhouse fell into a heavy silence when the door swung open, and Rip walked in, carrying a duffle bag full of his stuff. The shift in the room was immediate—something had changed.

This had to be what Kayce was talking about.

Rip had worked for my father since I was ten years old. He was like another brother to me, always part of our tight-knit circle. But seeing the way he looked as he stepped inside—eyes down, face tight—I knew that my father didn't see him the same way. Not the way Rip deserved to be seen. Not like family.

And that realization hit harder than I expected.

"So just to clarify," Jimmy smirked, "Colby's mom—that's a cougar?"

The room burst into laughter, the guys snickering at the thought.

"Don't talk about my mom like that," Colby shot back, his voice defensive, though he couldn't fully hide the hint of a grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

"So, is she a wildcat then?" Jimmy continued, clearly enjoying the chaos he was causing.

The boys erupted again, some laughing so hard they were almost gasping for air. But Colby's face flushed with a mix of irritation and amusement.

"Seriously, Jimmy, shut up," Colby muttered, but even he couldn't suppress the chuckle that slipped out.

The teasing lightened the mood, but my attention drifted again, catching sight of Rip still lingering at the table, beer in hand. Not quite knowing where he fit anymore.

The night stretched on, the quiet of the bunkhouse settling around us as we all found our places. I slipped into one of Ryan's old t-shirts again, the fabric soft and familiar, paired with a pair of gym shorts. As I curled up beside him, resting my head on his chest, his fingers ran absentmindedly through my hair, the rhythmic motion soothing.

"So since your brother isn't here anymore..." I heard the smirk in his voice before I even saw it.

I tilted my head up, catching his eyes. "Can't keep it in your pants anymore, cowboy?" I teased, raising an eyebrow, the playful challenge hanging between us.

He grinned, his lips curling slightly, before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. "You have no idea how tempting it is," he murmured, his voice low, and I couldn't help but laugh softly, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the familiar banter.

I propped myself up on my elbow, my chin resting on his chest so I could catch his gaze. "How about I tempt you tomorrow night?" I asked, a playful glint in my eyes. "Unless there's another football game you'd rather watch."

Ryan let out a low chuckle, his fingers still weaving through my hair as his lips curled into a teasing smirk. "I don't think there's another game until Thursday, so I'm free tomorrow." His voice dropped an octave, the promise of his words hanging in the air between us.

"Good," I whispered, leaning in just a little closer, the space between us shrinking as I let the anticipation linger.

—-

"Sweetheart," Dad said, his voice low as we stood waiting, "I'm gonna need you to stand by your brother on this one."

"I've always been on Kayce's side, Dad," I replied. "Today isn't any different."

"I know you say that, but the boys need to understand that Kayce is the one in charge out there, not Rip. It's the only way this is gonna work," he said firmly.

"Alright," I nodded, knowing my support for Kayce was never in question.

"And since Kayce isn't sleeping in the bunkhouse anymore," he continued, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be there either."

"I'm not gonna be the one running them, Dad," I said, carefully choosing my words, "and I'm not the only girl in there." I motioned to Avery, who was standing by her horse, her posture just as strong as the men.

"Doesn't matter," Dad grumbled, his expression hardening. "I don't like the idea of my daughter sleeping in the bunkhouse with a bunch of rowdy men."

I froze for a moment, feeling the weight of my father's words. He wasn't looking at me, but I could hear the concern in his voice.

"She ain't my daughter," he muttered, his gaze hardening as he stared at Avery.

I swallowed hard, trying not to let the frustration show on my face. It wasn't that I didn't understand where he was coming from—his protective instincts ran deep—but this felt different.

"Dad, I've worked with these men for years," I said, trying to keep my tone calm. "I'm not some kid that needs to be protected. Besides, you know I've always had my own way of handling things."

"I know you do, sweetheart," he replied, his voice softer but still firm. "But you're not out there just to work anymore. You're part of this family, and your safety comes first."

I bit back a sigh, knowing I wasn't going to win this argument. But the truth was, I wasn't about to let anyone dictate where I could sleep.

"Well, we'll see how things go," I said, my voice final. "But you can count on me to support Kayce. I've always had his back."

I glanced over at the cowboys, all lined up and waiting for the day's work, trying to keep my gaze casual, even though my eyes lingered a little longer on one of them. My father had noticed—more than I realized. Or maybe I just hadn't wanted to see it. Eventually, he would find out.

I wasn't sure what his response would be. Ryan was a good man. Hell, he was better than most of the men I knew. But whether he was ready for this—ready for my father to know, to be a part of what was happening between us—was another thing entirely. Would my father see him the way I did? Would he respect him, or would it be a different kind of test, one neither of us was prepared for?

I wasn't ready for the answers, but I knew they'd come. And soon.

Kayce led his horse out of the barn, scanning the line of cowboys like he wasn't sure what his next move should be.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly, "Go be the boss."

"He's not gonna follow me," Kayce said to our father, voice tight, glancing back at Rip.

"It ain't about his respect, it's about all of theirs," Dad responded, unwavering.

Kayce nodded, then mounted his horse. All eyes were on him as he spoke, his voice carrying command. "We'll push 'em up the valley, then over the saddle at East River Road. We'll take that up the canyon. Ryan, you and Colby got point. Walker, Cowboy, you're on swing. Avery and Jimmy, flank."

I listened as Kayce ran down the positions, his words coming smoothly, with no hesitation. Drag was the last to be called. The worst job—dusty, back-breaking work. But it was a job. If that's where Kayce wanted me…

"Rip, you and Lloyd are riding drag," Kayce added, eyes flicking to them. I waited, staring at my brother, waiting for him to assign me a spot.

"Kayce?" I said, voice soft but persistent.

"I need you to stay here," he said, his voice firm.

The glare I shot him could've sliced right through him. But I held my tongue. If this was what standing by my brother meant, then it sure fucking sucked.

I waited until they had ridden out before storming into the barn, my frustration building. I wasn't going to let them see how much it bothered me, how much it fucking hurt. I took the saddle off my horse, stowed it in the tack room, and led him into the stall.

"I know you were looking forward to chasing cows," I murmured, running my hand down his nose. "We both were." I filled his trough with hay, letting him get comfortable, though he seemed more at peace than I felt.

I drew in a few calming breaths, trying to let the quiet of the barn settle my mind. I crossed over to Denim's stall. "I know training wasn't on the schedule today, but you up for it?" He snorted, his ears flicking back in response.

"Alex," I heard my dad's stern voice, pulling me from my thoughts. "I don't want you training today either."

I shot him a look, frustration bubbling up again. "I can't run cattle, I can't trick ride. What can I do, Dad?"

He softened his tone, but it didn't ease the ache in my chest. "Can you just be still for a little while, sweetheart?"

I let out a breath, defeated, and muttered under my breath, "I don't think I know how to do that, Dad."

I walked in silence with my father out of the barn, my boots crunching in the gravel as I tried to find a rhythm to my thoughts. For a moment, I let myself breathe, the weight of everything pressing in on me.

"You know it's hard for him to tell you what to do," Dad said, breaking the silence.

"It sure as fuck didn't seem that hard," I shot back, my frustration simmering just under the surface.

"The bond you two share," Dad continued, his voice soft but firm, "is deeper and different than he or you have with the others. You came into this world together. You're connected in a way that no one but you can understand. You have to let him be in control now, sweetheart. That's how he's gonna be able to run this place."

I didn't know what to say to that, the reality of it all sinking in deeper. It felt like I was losing something, but I knew he was right. Kayce needed to step up, even if it meant me stepping back.

"What's left for me, Dad?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration as I leaned against the fence, my eyes following the line of cowboys as they disappeared into the distance. "I'm not gonna wait patiently in the kitchen or whatever 'ladies' do."

"No, I don't expect you will," Dad said, his tone steady as he watched me. "But you'll get to ride again," he promised. "When Kayce doesn't need you to hold him up in front of the others…" He let the words hang in the air for a moment, letting the weight of them settle.

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep the wave of emotions from overtaking me. It wasn't just about the horses or the work—it was about the place I thought I held in this family. It was about watching my brother step into a role I'd been preparing for my whole life.

But as I stood there, facing the future, I knew my dad was right. For now, it was Kayce's turn. And I had to let him lead.

I stood at the edge of the arena, my gaze fixed on the horizon as the horses galloped back from the field. They hadn't been gone long enough to have gathered the cattle up the canyon. Something was wrong—there was an unease in the air, something off that I couldn't put my finger on.

The cowboys began filtering into the arena, their faces just as uncertain as mine. No one spoke, but the tension was thick. It was as if the earth itself had held its breath.

Kayce swung down from his horse, his movements sharp and purposeful. His chest was puffed up, his jaw set with that familiar stubbornness. He was ready for something, and I knew it wasn't just about the cattle anymore. It was something deeper.

I followed his stride, eyes flicking to Rip, who dismounted right behind him. The same puffed-up stance. The same hard glare in his eyes. Two men caught in the same web of pride, both unwilling to back down. And I had a feeling this wasn't going to end quietly.

Rip swung the first punch, fast and hard, and Kayce was right there with the second. Their bodies collided in a blur of raw aggression. Punches landed with bone-crushing force, their grunts filling the air as they exchanged blow after blow. The weight of it all settled in my stomach like lead. My muscles tensed, but I kept my face as unreadable as possible—just like my father, whose eyes were locked on the fight with a gaze that betrayed nothing.

"You want us to get in there?" Ryan asked, his voice a low murmur, but I knew it wasn't just about breaking up a fight. It was about what it meant for the ranch, for the men who worked it, and for the hierarchy that was constantly shifting beneath us.

"No," Dad said firmly, his voice unshaken. "This needs to happen."

And I understood then. The fight wasn't just about who was stronger or who could take the harder punch. It was about proving something deeper. A battle of control. Who was going to hold the reins?

With a final, brutal blow, Rip hit the ground and stayed there. Kayce stood tall over him, his chest heaving with exertion, and wiped his hands clean. He picked up his hat from the dirt as if it were nothing, his face hard as stone.

"There ain't no fighting on this ranch," Kayce declared, his voice steady but sharp. "If you wanna fight, come fight me."

The air hung heavy as the hands turned and walked away, leaving Rip on the ground, still trying to catch his breath. I caught the moment Rip stood, his movements slow but deliberate. I knew then that he'd let Kayce win. He wasn't beaten by the punch, but by the weight of what this meant for his place here.

Dad's voice broke the silence, calm but commanding as always. "You made him earn it," he said to Rip. "Thank you. Now I need you two to get along. Kayce needs to be able to depend on you."

Rip's eyes shifted toward me, the quiet tension in the air intensifying. "Can you depend on him, sir?" Rip's voice was steady but laced with something I couldn't quite place. "Cause I've never seen proof that you can. Not like with her," his gaze flicked toward me, then back to Dad. "But I guess you see something I don't see."

Dad's eyes hardened as he met Rip's gaze, unwavering. "He's my son, Rip. That's what I see."

The words hung heavy between them, but before anyone could respond, Rip turned and walked back toward the barn, leaving a trail of questions in his wake. "Jamie's your son too, sir," Rip called back without turning. "What did you see in him?"

The barn doors creaked as they swung closed, and I was left standing there, the weight of his words settling like dust in the air.

—-

I did my duty, and instead of following after Rip or joining the cowboys in the bunkhouse, I walked back into the house with my father. A tense quiet hung between us, thick and heavy, like the kind of silence you can feel pressing down on your chest.

I made my way up to my room, each step a little heavier than the last. When I reached the door, I leaned against it, my fingers brushing against the wood as if that could steady me. My mind was still reeling from the fight, from everything that had happened, and from the words I'd heard—Rip's, my father's.

I didn't even realize the tears were falling until I felt them streaking down my face, warm against my skin. I wasn't one of those girls who broke down at every little thing. I was hard, stone-faced, unbothered by the usual sappy moments that got other people's emotions in a twist. Hell, throw a dog in a movie, and sure, I'd cry. Homeward Bound, Ole Yeller—those were real heartstring pullers. But anything else? I prided myself on staying tough.

But today… today, I was made to feel small. It was like the weight of the world had just pressed me down, and for once, I couldn't fight it. I hated it. Hated the feeling of being vulnerable, of being diminished by everything happening around me. I was a daughter, a sister, a woman who had been raised to stand tall. Not shrink in the shadow of someone else's expectations.

But I wasn't sure who I was supposed to be right now.

I washed my face, the cold water helping to clear my mind, but the sting of everything that had happened still lingered. Staring at my reflection, I tried to make sense of what I was feeling—frustration, confusion, anger. But above it all, there was an ache.

The knock at my door pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Come in," I called, wiping my face with the back of my hand, hoping it wasn't too obvious.

The door creaked open, and Kayce stepped in, his presence filling the room. He didn't speak at first, just stood there, taking in the sight of me. I couldn't bear the silence. Before I could stop myself, I crossed the room and slid my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his chest.

His body tensed at first, but then he relaxed into me, his arms coming around me, holding me close.

I didn't remember when he became so much bigger than me. The years had slipped away quietly, and I had never noticed how the space between us had changed. But now, standing in his embrace, it was undeniable. I suppose it was always bound to happen—he'd grown into the man he was meant to be. But I never wanted it to happen. He used to promise me it never would.

"I'm sorry, Alex," Kayce said softly, his voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.

"I know," I murmured, my forehead still pressed against his chest. "It's this place. It makes you do things you don't always want to do."

"Yeah," he admitted, exhaling a slow breath. "Next time we go out, you're beside me. I never meant to push you down. Or away."

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, studying his face. "Maybe you should tell your wife that too."

His jaw tightened slightly, the way it always did when something was eating at him. "I'm not quite ready for that yet," he said.

"Don't wait too long," I warned.

"I won't," he promised, but there was hesitation in his voice.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at me. "Now go wash your face. You're snotting all over my clean shirt."

"Shut up," I grumbled, shoving him lightly before stepping away.

He chuckled, and for a moment, the heaviness between us lifted. I disappeared into the bathroom, turning the faucet on and splashing cool water on my face again. Maybe I'd wash away more than just the tears. Maybe, for just a moment, I could wash away everything else too.

Kayce and I walked down the stairs together, a quiet understanding settling between us as we stepped into the dining room. The rich aroma of pot roast filled the air—Gator's doing, no doubt. As much as I enjoyed eating outside with the cowboys, there was something grounding about sitting at the family table.

Dad sat at the head of the table, his usual place, while Kayce took the seat to his left. I slid into the chair beside my brother, the warmth of the meal contrasting with the tension that had loomed over the day.

Dad's eyes flicked between us, reading the unspoken truce. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He saw it. We were united. And on this ranch, that mattered more than words.

I glanced up from my plate at the sound of Beth's approaching footsteps.

"Sorry, I'm late," she said, pressing a quick peck to Dad's cheek before dropping into the seat across from Kayce. Her sharp eyes swept over him, taking in the fresh bruises decorating his face

.
"Hey," Kayce muttered between bites of food.

"Rough day at the office?" Beth smirked, nodding at his battered face.

Dad shot her a warning look, but Kayce just shrugged. "It was hard, but good."

Beth raised a brow. "What happened?" She glanced between the two of us, her suspicion growing. "And what little wonder twin plotting do you two have going on?"

Dad let out a tired sigh. "Let's not talk about work at the dinner table."

Beth scoffed. "He gets up at four a.m. to go to work. You go to bed thinking about work. If we don't talk about work, what the hell are we supposed to talk about? You expect us to eat in silence, Daddy?"

Dad lifted his hand, the universal sign for drop it.

Beth's eyes flashed. "Are you shushing me, Daddy?" she snapped. "I'm a thirty-five-year-old woman. I will talk about whatever the fuck I want to talk about." With that, she tossed her napkin onto the table and stormed out.

I barely contained my laughter, biting down on my lip.

"I see nothing's changed," Kayce said, shaking his head.

"She hasn't made it through a whole meal since she was eleven," Dad muttered.

Kayce chuckled, and even Dad couldn't help but smirk.

"By the way," I said, leveling my gaze at our father, "you've got physical therapy tomorrow."

"I know," he grumbled.

"And you ain't missing it," Kayce added firmly.

Dad let out a long-suffering sigh. "I won't," he gruffed.

—-

Kayce smirked as we walked toward his house. "If you want to use the foreman's house with Ryan, I can wait outside until you're done."

I shot him a disgusted look. "You think that's sweet, but that is so gross." I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not having sex in your bed."

"Trust me, he wouldn't mind," Kayce chuckled. "I've seen how he looks at you."

"Trust you?" I arched a brow at him. "You got me kicked out of the bunkhouse. It'll be days before Dad stops paying attention long enough for me to sneak back in."

Kayce stopped walking, turning to face me with a serious expression. "You don't belong in the bunkhouse, Alex. You fit in there, but you deserve better than a bunkhouse mattress."

I sighed, glancing toward the horizon. "It's what we have," I said softly. "Stolen moments. Places to sneak off to."

Kayce studied me for a moment before asking, "Do you love him?"

The question settled heavy in my chest, an ache forming before I even spoke the words. I hesitated, then finally admitted, "Yes." My voice was quieter than I meant it to be. "I told him once… a long time ago." I exhaled a shaky breath. "And it didn't exactly go the way I planned."

"Maybe he wasn't ready to hear it then," he said.

"What happens when I say it and he doesn't say it back…again?"

"I think you're more scared of what it means if he does say it," Kayce sat down in the chair on his porch.

I swallowed hard, Kayce's words settling in my chest like a stone.

"Maybe," I admitted, sitting down on the porch steps. The cool evening air did little to ease the heat rising in my face. "If he doesn't say it back, at least I'll know where I stand."

Kayce leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out. "And if he does?"

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "Then everything changes."

Kayce smirked. "Everything's already changed, Alex. You're just pretending it hasn't."

I looked out over the ranch, my fingers tracing idle patterns on the wood step beneath me. "Yeah," I muttered, "maybe I am."

"You'll figure it out," Kayce told me, "you always do."

"You need to figure out your stuff too," I glanced back at him, "and take a little of your own advice. Tell her how you feel."

"I will," he looked at me with a challenge, "you first."

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. "That ain't fair."

Kayce smirked. "Sure it is. You push me, I push you. That's how this works."

I rolled my eyes and looked back out over the ranch. The sky was painted in fading streaks of gold and orange, the last light of the day stretching over the land that had raised us both.

"You scared?" he asked after a beat.

"Terrified," I admitted, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

Kayce nodded like he understood. Maybe he did. "Then I guess we both got some shit to do."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I guess we do."

I stood up looking at the bunkhouse then back to the main house.

"What are you gonna do?" Kayce asked.

"Man up, I suppose," I responded, "But tonight, I've got to text him like a fourteen-year-old girl 'cause I can't go to the bunkhouse."

Kayce chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day my badass sister was sneaking around like some love-struck teenager."

"Shut up," I muttered, pulling out my phone. "You got me into this mess."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirked. "Just don't get caught by Dad. Or Rip."

I shot him a glare before focusing on my screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Hey, cowboy. Can't come by tonight. Got exiled from the bunkhouse. Blame my brother.

I hit send and exhaled, waiting for a response. It came almost instantly.

Guess I'll just have to dream about you then.

I bit my lip, warmth spreading through me. Sweet dreams, then.

Kayce laughed beside me. "You're blushing."

"You're an ass, Kayce."