It was the next afternoon when Travis showed back up at the ranch. He wasn't kidding about getting the best of the best. Each horse and rider had stacks of credentials to back up all the flash with.

"No low-cut shirt today, Alex?" Travis grinned as he led our new horse into the arena to show off.

"Figure I should save it for someone who would appreciate it," I called up to him.

"Oh, I appreciate it," he smirked as he climbed up on the horse.

"You appreciate yourself more," I shot back, folding my arms as I leaned against the fence.

Travis chuckled as he adjusted his reins. "Damn right. No one loves me like me."

Kayce shook his head beside me. "You sure about putting him on the road, Dad?"

Dad smirked, watching as Travis settled the horse with an ease that only came from years of experience. "Man knows his job."

And he did. The second Travis gave the cue, the horse took off, moving like poetry in motion. Every step was precise, every turn sharp and controlled. He made it look effortless, and if I didn't know better, I'd have thought the horse was reading his mind.

"Goddamn," Rip muttered under his breath.

"Yeah," I agreed, watching closely. "That's the kind of horse I need."

Travis slowed the horse to a stop, patting its neck before glancing back at me. "You want to take him for a test ride?"

I was already stepping up onto the fence. "Thought you'd never ask."

"Try not to fall off," he teased, sliding out of the saddle.

I snatched the reins from him as I swung into the seat. "Try not to be jealous when I do it better."

"I'll try to contain myself," Travis chuckled, watching me closely as I took the reins.

I clicked my tongue, giving the horse a gentle nudge with my heels. "Alright, big boy, let's see what you got." The horse's muscles twitched beneath me, his energy palpable as we began to move.

The animal was pure power—every stride was like a pulse of raw strength. But he was responsive, obedient to my every shift and click. I guided him right, feeling him gather speed, then left, his body bending with precision. He practically cornered on a dime, as if he'd been trained to read every small movement I made.

I wasn't Travis. I didn't have his natural flair or seamless grace, but there was something just as satisfying about the control I had over this beast. As we moved together, I felt a rush—an exhilarating, almost addictive feeling. The wind whipped past me, and for a brief moment, everything else faded.

It wasn't just about riding; it was about freedom. The kind of freedom you could only find when you were in sync with something as wild and untamed as the horse beneath you.

The world slowed down, the dirt kicked up behind us in a haze, and I felt alive in a way I hadn't in a long time. The thought of the road ahead, the opportunities, the legacy—it all felt within reach, just like the power beneath me.

I glanced over at Travis, who had a smirk on his face, but his eyes showed a hint of approval. "Not bad, Alex. You might just make a real cowboy out of you yet."

I guided the colt into a steady gallop, feeling his power beneath me, his movements fluid and responsive. Travis leaned on the fence, watching with a smirk as he gestured toward me.

"So I got Alex on this Metallic Cat colt," he said, nodding in my direction.

I slowed the horse to a trot, running a soothing hand along his neck. "You let him call you that?" I muttered to the colt. "Don't worry, big guy, we'll figure out a better name for you."

Travis let out a bark of laughter. "Twilight Sparkle was already trademarked," he shot back.

I rolled my eyes but kept my focus on the horse beneath me. He was a hell of a ride—athletic, smart, and built for greatness.

Travis turned his attention to my father. "But listen, I want y'all to buy this one and put him on the road. I don't know how big of a name you're looking to make, but if you really want to shake things up, you oughta let me call Bobby Patton and see if he'll sell you a share of Metallic. Now that would make a splash."

Dad's eyes narrowed as he considered it, but his smirk gave him away. "When you jump in a pool for me, Travis, you do a cannonball."

Travis grinned like he'd been waiting for this moment. "I'll do it," he said without hesitation. "Cannonball it is."

He wasn't bluffing—Travis played to win. And if we were going all in, he was ready to make damn sure we didn't just make a name for ourselves. We'd make history.

I leaned against the railing, watching as Rip made his way toward the arena, a wild-haired kid trailing beside him. It was like looking through a window into the past—like seeing Rip himself all those years ago when he first stepped onto the ranch.

After a brief, quiet conversation with my father, Rip gave the kid a nod and gestured toward the barn. No fuss, no ceremony. Just like that, we had ourselves a new stall cleaner.

The kid's shoulders were tense, his steps hesitant, but there was something in his eyes—a mix of wariness and quiet determination. I'd seen that look before. Hell, we all had it once.

Rip didn't slow his stride, and the boy hurried to keep up. He'd learn quick enough: you either kept pace around here, or you got left behind.

I saw everything that happened on the ranch. Even when no one else noticed, I did.

Jimmy had tried to ride again—the same day our whole world fell apart. And now, he was back, moving stiffly, a brace strapped tight to keep his body aligned. He wasn't going to ride broncs again, not for a long time. Maybe not ever.

Dad wasn't keeping him here. He was sending him to Texas with Travis.

Jimmy sat at the bunkhouse table, just listening as everyone chatted. His shoulders slumped under the weight of disappointment, of failure. He was leaving the only home he'd ever known, and he knew it.

I watched him, studying the quiet defeat in his face. It would be good for him, I thought. Texas would strip him down, break him apart, and build him back up the right way. It would make a man out of the boy sitting across from me.

"Shit, Jimmy, you look like you need a beer," Jake said, popping the cap off his bottle. He squinted at him. "Can he even drink?"

"He shouldn't drink," Mia cut in before Jimmy could open his mouth, arms crossed tight like she was guarding him from himself.

Jake shrugged. "All right, whatever. More for us."

"Did you see those fucking horses today?" Ryan asked, leaning back in his chair. "Goddamn, what I would give to ride one of those sons of bitches."

"Careful, cowboy," I smirked, tilting my beer to my lips. "That's a lot of power to have between your legs."

Ryan turned to me, eyes flashing with mischief. "Baby, you know exactly how much power I have between my legs." He pulled me closer, his hand settling low on my hip.

Jake let out a loud laugh. "You'd get your ass dashboarded right into the dirt."

"Bullshit!" Ryan shot back. "Fuck you, coming from a guy who gets bucked off a seesaw."

Across the bunkhouse, Teeter's head snapped up. "I heard ridin', and I heard fuckin'," she drawled. "What are we doin'?"

Colby didn't miss a beat. "Playin' cards."

—-

I brushed past Ryan as he stood at my bathroom sink, toothbrush in his mouth, and stepped into the shower. We'd found our rhythm, as much as two people like us could—our lives messy, tangled, but still moving in sync.

"Baby, I should probably sleep in the bunkhouse," he called over the sound of running water.

I lathered up, letting the hot spray cascade over my body. "Why the hell would you want to sleep there when you can be here with me?"

Ryan spat into the sink and leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, his eyes flickering to my silhouette through the fogged-up glass. He didn't even try to hide that he was watching me, and I smirked to myself as I ran my hands over my skin.

"It's just—" he hesitated, shaking his head like he needed to clear his thoughts. "Your dad is across the damn hall."

I rinsed off and stepped out, reaching for a towel. Wrapping it around me, I met his gaze in the mirror. "He knows you're mine, cowboy. And he knows I want you here. You're not some stranger sneaking around, taking advantage of his little girl."

Ryan scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah? Then why does he look at me like I've corrupted you?"

I laughed softly, stepping closer, slipping my arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palms. "You're reading too much into it. He looks at Rip the same way half the time—and Rip and Beth have been off and on for twenty years." I tilted my head, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. "Besides, if you're sleeping in the bunkhouse, then I'm sleeping in the bunkhouse."

Ryan groaned, closing his eyes for a second before resting his forehead against mine. "You're gonna be the death of me, baby."

"Maybe," I grinned, "but you'd die happy."

"Let's get out there and do some cowboy shit," Ryan said, flashing me that easy grin that always made trouble seem worth it.

We dressed quickly, moving in sync, and by the time we stepped outside, the cool morning air had shaken off the last traces of sleep. The ranch was already alive with the sound of hooves, the murmur of voices, and the rhythmic clatter of work being done.

The first job of the day was cleaning the arena—Travis was coming back to show off his horses. I had my own reasons for being out there, though. Yesterday, I'd been too caught up in my father's vision, too focused on the future he wanted to build, to really take a good look at the pair Travis had set aside for me. That was changing today.

The gear I'd ordered for the trick had finally arrived, and now, with the morning light creeping over the valley, there was only one thing on my mind.

I wanted to see if I could still do it.

I stood by my horse, absently running my hand along his neck as I waited for the others to get ready. Something caught my eye, and I frowned, stepping closer. The cinch was all wrong—loose in places it shouldn't be, twisted where it needed to be flat.

"Hey, kid," I called over to Beth's new stray, motioning him closer. "Tell me what's wrong with this."

He hesitated, eyes darting over the saddle like the answer might magically appear. "Um…"

I sighed. "When I asked you to saddle a horse for me, you didn't mention you didn't know how." My tone wasn't angry, just firm. "If I hadn't double-checked, I could've been hurt. Or someone else could have. It's okay not to know things, but you have to speak up. Me or one of the boys will show you how."

"Gotcha," he muttered, nodding.

"It's not 'gotcha,'" Rip's voice cut through the morning air like a whipcrack. I glanced over my shoulder to see him standing behind me, arms crossed, wearing that unreadable expression that usually made grown men straighten up real quick. "It's 'Yes, ma'am' or 'Yes, sir.' Learn some fucking manners."

"Yes, sir," the kid responded, his posture stiffening like Rip's presence alone added a few pounds of weight to his spine.

I loosened the straps, smoothing them out with practiced hands, then motioned for him to watch closely. "Alright, see this? You want it flat, snug, but not cutting off his damn circulation. Always double-check it before you step up. A loose cinch can land you in the dirt real fast."

He nodded, watching intently as I secured the saddle properly. I had to give him credit—he was paying attention.

"What's your name?" I asked, glancing at him.

He hesitated for a beat. "Everyone's just been calling me 'boy.'"

I huffed out a small laugh. "Yeah, they do that," I said, shaking my head. "I'm Alex. Beth is my sister."

"Carter," he finally said, standing a little taller when he said it.

"Nice to meet you, Carter," I told him, giving his shoulder a quick pat before stepping back. "Now, go finish mucking the stalls. If you get done early, you might just get to see some fucking badass horses."

His eyes lit up a little at that, and without another word, he turned and jogged off toward the barn, leaving me to finish up with my horse.

—-

The arena was set, the dust settled, and Gator had laid out a feast fit for a king—or at least a crew of hungry cowboys.

"Y'all wanna go look at some shit?" Teeter asked, glancing between me and Laramie.

"Sure," I nodded, stretching my arms.

"Hell, yeah," Laramie added, already moving before the words finished leaving her mouth.

We wandered toward the line of trailers, stopping in front of the massive, high-end 18-wheeler that had hauled in Travis' prospects. The thing gleamed in the sunlight, looking as expensive as the bloodlines it carried.

"What did this fucking thing cost?" Teeter muttered, eyeing the rig like it personally offended her.

"That is sexy," Laramie whistled, running a hand along the side.

"That is sexy," I agreed, nodding my head toward the horse being led down the ramp—a stallion so finely built he could've been sculpted out of marble.

"What do them fucking things cost?" Teeter asked, still staring.

I smirked. "More than the fucking truck."

Teeter let out a low whistle, shaking her head.

"This is gonna be worth watching," Laramie grinned, her eyes lighting up as the riders swung into their saddles, adjusting their reins with the kind of easy confidence that only came from years of experience.

I smiled at her excitement, feeling the same buzz in my own chest. This wasn't just horses. This was something bigger.

Travis led out a pair of matching brown-and-white paints, their coats gleaming under the afternoon sun. They were stunning—strong, agile, and perfectly in sync, their bits clipped together so they moved almost as one. My eyes flicked to the saddles, noticing the gear I'd bought had already been fitted to them. Travis had wasted no time.

"You ready to take them for a spin?" he asked, handing me the reins with a knowing smirk.

I exhaled, steadying the nerves buzzing under my skin. "Alright, boys, let's show 'em what we can do."

Travis stepped in to help me mount the horse on the right. I settled in, adjusting my weight and feeling out the gelding beneath me. I'd been practicing, but not on these two. They didn't know my cues, and I didn't know their rhythm yet. Still, they followed my lead as I nudged them forward into the arena, their movements smooth and effortless.

The real test was about to begin.

I stayed seated on the horse to the right as we rounded the arena, focusing on keeping them in perfect sync. Each movement was a calculated effort, guiding them with gentle shifts, making sure they stayed together. My heart raced with a mix of adrenaline and concentration. I lengthened their reins, pushing them into a steady gallop before rising up into a standing position on the horse's back.

The crowd's murmurs faded into the background as I circled the arena. The wind whipped around me, my body finding its balance on the shifting back of my mount. I glanced briefly at the second horse, moving in time with the first, and pushed myself further—daring to stand on both at once.

It was when I tried to balance on both of them simultaneously that the harmony between the horses began to break. They shifted apart, their steps faltering, as if sensing the imbalance in my attempt. I felt the pull of their movements diverging, and in a split second, I lost my center of gravity.

I recovered just in time, sliding back into a seated position on the right horse, heart pounding. The horses continued moving, and I could feel the tension in the air shift. My focus sharpened. I could do this. I just had to learn how to push them both in a way they could follow—together.

I ushered the horses out of the arena, the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. They were perfect—more than I had expected, but I couldn't let Travis see that on my face just yet. I knew with more practice, more time working with them, I could make a real show out of these two. They were talented, responsive, and they'd only get better with me at the reins.

"Alright, I'm sold," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, as if I hadn't just been caught in a split-second slip.

Travis laughed, a full, amused chuckle. "Girl, you're even graceful when you're about to fall on your ass," he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I shot him a glare, trying to hide the smile creeping onto my face. "I meant to do that."

"Sure you did," he winked, shaking his head as he held the reins out for me. "Let's see what you can really do when you've got 'em locked in."

"Just add them to the bill," I told him, letting out a deep breath as I followed him into the barn. I was still riding high off the session, but there was no time to gloat. These horses needed to settle in.

He led them into the stall, their hooves clicking softly against the barn floor. "You didn't name them something stupid, did you?" I asked, half-joking, but a little serious. I didn't want to end up with some ridiculous name like "Metal Cat" or whatever the fuck that horse's name was.

He shot me a grin over his shoulder. "I'll leave the stupid names to you," he teased, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "You're lucky I like you," I muttered, shaking my head. "Otherwise, I'd be giving them names like 'Thunderclap' and 'Hot Mess.'"

He chuckled as he patted the horse's neck. "Well, they've got some class, so they'll need a name to match."

"What about Goose and Maverick?" I asked, a grin tugging at my lips. "Top Gun."

"Could work," he said, giving me a quick once-over. "Now get back out there, see what else your daddy's buying."

"Ass," I shot back, rolling my eyes as I walked out of the barn.

The hands were clearly in awe of the horses on display. I leaned against the fence next to Ryan, watching them. "See anything you like?"

He looked down at me, his eyes glinting. "I do now."

"Such a charmer, cowboy," I teased, slipping my arm around his waist as his draped over my shoulders. "Someone's gonna snatch you up."

"I'm already snatched, baby," he replied with a grin that made my stomach flip.

"Those are some damn good horses right there," I heard Jake comment, his voice full of admiration.

"Just once I'd like to ride a horse like that," Colby sighed, watching the pair of them move with fluid grace.

Ryan shot him a sly grin. "If you tried to stop a horse like that, it'd lawn-dart you straight into a cattle trough."

"What? No way," Colby shot back, his voice incredulous. "Have you tried trotting past a mirror lately? You look like a drunk cat trying to fuck a football."

Ryan blinked. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"

Mia didn't even glance at Jimmy as he asked, "Can I talk to you?" The silence between them was thick—like she didn't want him to leave, but he couldn't seem to get out of his own head long enough to say no.

Mia turned back to us, trying to break the tension. "Hard to believe you could sell one of those and buy a truck."

Ryan leaned back, hands in his pockets, and smirked. "You can sell one of those and buy a house."

I watched Jimmy walk into the barn, his movements familiar now. He'd grown up a lot since that first day, the green kid who tried to ride my horse like he knew what he was doing. But even though he'd come a long way, he still wasn't quite there yet—not quite a man, not yet sure of his worth. Texas would show him that.

He just had to figure it out for himself, like we all did.

Travis spun his horse in tight circles, his movements smooth and effortless. I couldn't help but watch, captivated by the skill.

"That's a spinning motherfucker right there," Jake muttered, impressed.

"Yee-fucking-haw," Laramie added, her voice full of awe.

"That's the difference between five thousand bucks and three hundred thousand right there," Travis called back, clearly enjoying the show he was putting on.

"Travis, let me run and stop just once," Ryan piped up, eyes gleaming with challenge.

"You bet," Travis shot back, "For three hundred thousand dollars."

"Come on, just once," Ryan pressed.

"This is a 'you break it, you buy it' kind of situation here, brother," Travis laughed. "and you can't afford to buy it. Only race car drivers get to ride race cars." He trotted over to Ethan and Jake, his voice lowering as he switched gears. "Is the gimp all packed up?"

"The gimp?" Mia's eyebrow shot up.

"Jerry," Travis clarified. "No, Jimmy."

"Yeah, Jimmy's gonna be ready to go," Jake answered with a grin.

"We'll get outta here around sundown," Travis told them, turning his attention back to the rest of the crew.

"Y'all going with them?" Ryan asked, a trace of curiosity in his voice.

"Yes, sir. Right as soon as Ethan and I get the rest of these colts finished," Jake replied, his voice steady with purpose.

"Where y'all heading first?" I asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it out loud.

"Well, we gotta go to Scottsdale first," Jake said, rolling the words off his tongue.

"Then we swing into Vegas, meet the cutters," Ethan added with a grin, the excitement clear in his eyes.

"You lucky son of a bitch," Ryan muttered, shaking his head.

"Then we gotta go to Fort Worth," Jake finished, a spark of anticipation in his voice.

"Fuck, that's the stockyards, man. My old stomping grounds," Teeter laughed.

"Then we drop dipshit off at the Four Sixes," Jake continued, shaking his head.

"He's going to the Four Sixes?" Mia asked, her voice full of disbelief.

"He won't last a week," Ryan said, the certainty in his tone clear.

"Have some faith, cowboy," I replied, giving him a teasing smirk. "Jimmy may surprise you."

I watched Mia walk off from the corner of my eye, the tension between her and Jimmy still lingering like an unspoken truth. There was something more to the story, but I wasn't sure I wanted to dig into it.

"Be careful, Jimmy," I said, watching him carry his bags toward Travis' truck. "Travis is a dick, but he can teach you a lot about horses while you're down there. When you're ready, you can come back."

He gave me a small nod, eyes downcast, as if he was still processing everything. I stepped forward, ready to hug him, but hesitated when I remembered all the hardware he was wearing. Instead, I extended my hand, offering him a firm handshake.

He looked at it for a moment before shaking it back, his grip surprisingly strong.

—-

I sat atop my horse, looking down at the cattle spread out before me. The whole damn herd had pinkeye.

I let out a slow breath, rubbing my jaw as I watched them blink against the irritation, heads shaking, some of them rubbing their faces against each other or the ground. This wasn't just a headache—it was a full-blown problem. Left untreated, it'd spread fast, and before long, we'd have blind cattle stumbling around, getting themselves hurt or worse.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. "Hey Lloyd we're gonna have to treat all of them."

"Let's push 'em into the arena, we'll run 'em through the chute," Lloyd called out.

"You don't want these sick sum'bitches in the arena," Walker called back, "Let's just doctor 'em right here."

"Well, I fucking said so," Lloyd shouted back. There had been tension between the two, building since Walker came back. Since Laramie decided it was Walker's bed she wanted to cuddle up in and not Lloyd's.

"Hey I didn't know you was boss when boss is gone," Walker said.

"Hey, I'm always the boss when the boss is gone," Lloyd responded.

I was growing tired of the back and forth, "Look, he's right we should just take care of them here."

"Push 'em in the fucking arena," Lloyd said sharply. "We start dragging them in the pasture they'll scatter to hell and gone."

"If we take them in there, every animal we have will get it," I told him. He wasn't listening to me. Because to him I was just trying to take Walker's side over his.

I sat back in my saddle, lips pressing into a firm line as the herd was pushed into the arena despite every instinct telling me it was the wrong call. The cattle hesitated at first, sensing the unease in the air, but eventually, the combined effort of the riders and the dogs got them moving. Dust kicked up in thick clouds, settling on my skin and coating my throat as I watched them shuffle inside.

Lloyd and Walker were still eyeing each other like a couple of bulls ready to lock horns. The tension between them was damn near tangible, thick enough to choke on. It wasn't just about the cattle or who was calling the shots—it was about pride, about a woman, and about the way things had changed since Walker came back.

I rolled my shoulders, gripping my reins a little tighter. "We better work fast before this turns into a bigger mess than it already is," I said, hoping to steer the focus back to the problem at hand.

Ryan rode up beside me, tipping his hat back as he watched the cattle settle in. "Hope you got a 'told-you-so' locked and loaded," he murmured. "Cause this ain't gonna go smooth."

I didn't answer, but my gut told me he was right.

"Hey, Lloyd," Rip called as he rode past the arena, "What in the fuck are you doing?"

"Running them through the chute," Lloyd answered.

"A couple of them have pinkeye I can see it from here," Dad told him.

"They all do, we gotta doctor the whole damn herd," Lloyd responded, "Thought this would be faster."

"Faster ain't better, every damn animal in this place will get it," Rip said.

I groaned in frustration, muttering, "I just fucking said that."

"You listen to me you move those fucking heifers out, and do your fucking job," Rip shouted.

"Let's go, push 'em back out," Lloyd called. "That means you too Walker."

"Hell, you're the boss. Hear that, boys? Boss is gonna let us do some real cowboy shit today," Walker grinned swinging his lasso.

I knelt over the cattle, injecting them with antibiotics as Colby marked the treated ones with a white X with chalk paint.

The sun bore down on us as we worked, sweat dripping down my back as I moved from one sick animal to the next. The herd shifted uneasily, some of the cattle flinching under the needle, but most were too sluggish from the infection to put up much of a fight. The smell of dust, sweat, and livestock filled the air, mixing with the sharp scent of the antiseptic we were using to clean their eyes.

Ryan rode up alongside me, tipping his hat back as he watched. "You doing alright down there?" he asked.

I wiped my forearm across my forehead, smearing dirt and sweat. "Peachy," I muttered, standing up to stretch my back before moving to the next cow.

Laramie and Teeter had joined in, keeping the herd contained as best they could while we worked. It was slow, exhausting work, but at least now we were handling it the right way.

Walker nudged Lloyd as he rode past, smirking. "See, wasn't that hard to listen, was it?"

Lloyd shot him a look that could've set dry brush on fire. "You keep running that mouth and you're gonna be missing a few teeth."

"You sure about this?" I asked, watching Teeter stir a bubbling concoction in the crockpot. The thick aroma of spices filled the air, but I still had no idea what the hell it was. I wasn't exactly an expert in the kitchen—cooking was about as foreign to me as a ballet recital—so I stuck to handing her whatever spices and chopped vegetables she asked for, hoping I wasn't contributing to a disaster in the making.

"Used to make this shit all the time," Teeter said, tossing in a handful of something dark and fragrant. "Y'all need to quit eatin' that junk. Dinner's almost ready."

Ryan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, looking skeptical. "You're wasting your time, Teeter. No one's gonna eat a thing you cooked."

Colby groaned from his spot at the table. "When does Gator get back?"

"Thursday," I answered.

"Thursday?" Colby's head dropped back with a dramatic sigh. "I'm gonna be dead by then. I can already feel my organs shutting down." He turned toward Walker, hopeful. "Walker, you know any hunger songs?"

Walker didn't even glance up. "No."

Teeter rolled her eyes and lifted a spoonful of whatever she'd been making, blowing on it before holding it out to me. "Tell 'em."

I hesitated for half a second before taking the bite. Warm, rich flavors hit my tongue, the perfect balance of heat and seasoning. I blinked in surprise and swallowed. "Shit, this is actually good."

Colby squinted at me, unconvinced. "I think y'all are in cahoots."

Teeter slid a full bowl in front of him, and he immediately pushed it back. "Oh, uh… no, I'm good."

"Come on, baby," Teeter said, nudging it back toward him. "I keep cooking, you keep not eating. I need you strong for later." She winked.

Colby looked between her and the bowl like it might explode.

"Fuck it," Ryan said, grabbing a bowl for himself. "I'm so hungry I'd eat anything right now." He scooped up a big bite and shoveled it into his mouth, chewing slowly. Then his eyes went wide.

"Told you it was good," I said, smirking.

Ryan pointed his spoon at Teeter, still chewing. "This is fucking great."

Colby groaned, grabbing his bowl back. "If I die from this, it's on all of y'all."

We all watched as he reluctantly took a bite. A beat of silence, then he exhaled and went for another spoonful.

Teeter leaned back, smug. "Told y'all. Ain't my first rodeo."

The rest of the guys crowded around the crockpot, jostling for space as they filled their bowls with whatever the hell Teeter had cooked. The rich, savory smell filled the bunkhouse, but none of us were entirely sure what we were about to eat.

Ryan lifted a spoonful, eyeing it warily. "What do you call this?"

"Sum bits," Teeter answered casually, ladling another heaping portion into her own bowl.

Jake, mid-bite, suddenly gagged and spit his food back into the bowl. "For fuck's sake," he sputtered, reaching for his water bottle.

Colby frowned. "What does that mean?"

Teeter grinned, completely unfazed. "Means it's good for you, honey."

Jake, still coughing, shot her a look. "Literally everything from the cow that nobody wants is in that." He took a swig of water, swished it around his mouth, and spit it into the sink.

Ryan paused mid-chew, glancing at his bowl. "So, like…the whole cow?"

"You mean everything in the cow?" Colby asked, hesitantly poking at the contents of his bowl.

"Evidently," Ryan shrugged and kept eating. Whatever it was, it hadn't killed him yet.

Across the table, Ethan suddenly blanched. "Ew. I think I got an eyeball."

Colby nearly dropped his spoon. "That's disgusting."

Ethan held it up for verification, and sure enough, a small, round piece of something that definitely shouldn't be in food wobbled on his spoon.

"That's just extra protein," Teeter said, completely unfazed.

I shook my head, unwilling to let the mystery-meat revelation ruin my meal. I scooped a careful bowl, making damn sure I recognized everything in it before taking a bite.

"Tastes good to me," Walker said with a shrug, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

Ryan nodded in agreement, swallowing another bite. "Hell, I ain't gonna ask questions if it tastes this good."

Colby sighed in defeat, finally bringing his spoon to his mouth.

Walker carried a bowl over to Lloyd, I suppose it was meant as a peace offering. Lloyd's face said he wasn't interested.

"What, you ain't eatin'?" Walker asked, his voice laced with amusement as he eyed Lloyd's untouched bowl.

Lloyd's glare was sharp enough to cut through steel.

"You wanna fucking dance, old man?"

The tension snapped the second Walker let his spoon clatter to the floor. Before he could react, Lloyd's boot connected with his ribs, sending him sprawling across the room.

"Hey! Fucking stop it!" I yelled, but there was no stopping it now.

Walker recovered fast, launching himself at Lloyd with fists flying. He tackled him to the floor, his knuckles slamming into Lloyd's chest and jaw with brutal efficiency. The scrape of boots against the floor and the sharp grunt of impact filled the room as they went at it like two bulls in a pen, too far gone to hear reason.

Another punch from Lloyd sent Walker hurtling straight into me. I barely had time to react before the impact knocked me backward over a chair. My head hit the ground hard, the sharp crack of pain exploding in my skull. Walker landed right on top of me, driving the air from my lungs with a force that left me gasping.

"Fuck—" I wheezed, trying to push him off.

Ryan and Colby were already on Lloyd, wrestling him back before he could go in for another swing. He fought against their grip, his chest heaving, still itching for blood.

Walker scrambled to his feet, jaw clenched, eyes burning with fury. Jake and Ethan stepped in, blocking his path before he could throw himself back into the fight. The room was a powder keg, one wrong move away from exploding all over again.

Then the bunkhouse door slammed open.

Rip stormed inside, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. The second I saw the look on his face, I knew shit was about to go from bad to worse.

"What's the rule about fighting, Lloyd?" His voice was deadly calm, the kind that made your stomach drop before the real storm hit.

Lloyd barely had time to straighten before Rip's fist came flying. The brutal punch connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling over the table in a crash of dishes and curses.

"Goddamn you for making me do this," Rip muttered, shaking out his hand as he loomed over Lloyd's crumpled form. The room went deathly silent. No one dared to move.

"You alright, baby?" Ryan extended his hand to help me up.

"I've had better, nights," I told him, rubbing my head.