Months had gone by, I kept waiting for the guilt to creep in, for some part of me to wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking over what I'd done. But it never came. Maybe the old me would've lost sleep over it. Maybe she would've prayed for forgiveness or tried to drown the weight of it in a bottle. But I wasn't that girl anymore.

I'd seen too much. Done too much.

It didn't feel like murder—it felt like survival. Like cutting away a tumor before it could spread.

The only thing that nagged at me, that gnawed at the edges of my peace, was Ryan.

I hadn't told him.

Not because I was afraid of what he'd say. Ryan wasn't naïve. He knew what kind of world we lived in. He knew the lines we sometimes had to cross to keep our family safe.

But I wasn't ready to see it in his eyes—that shift, that moment where I stopped being just his girl and became something else. Something darker.

That sparkle in his eye when he looked at me—that soft, easy love—I didn't want to lose that.

So I kept it to myself.

The energy in the room was electric—staffers, family, and longtime supporters clapping each other on the back, glasses raised in celebration. Dad's opponent had just called, conceding the race, and now all that was left was the speech. The one that would solidify it, make it real.

John Dutton, Governor of Montana.

I stood back from the crowd, watching as Dad buttoned his jacket, taking a steadying breath before stepping in front of the cameras. He wasn't a politician. He never wanted to be. But he did what had to be done, like always.

The room erupted in cheers, voices thick with pride and relief. I clapped too, because despite everything, I was proud. He was my father. And if anyone could hold the line against the vultures circling our land, it was him.

I just hoped it would be enough.

I knew better, though. Knew this fight was bigger than one election, one victory. The land developers, the politicians, the men with deep pockets and deeper grudges—they wouldn't just disappear.

But for tonight, I let myself hope.

I watched Jamie walk out onto the stage to introduce our father as the new governor. Cheers from the crowd erupted as he spoke.

"Well, the future of Montana is here," he started, "The future of Montana is a fifth-generation rancher whose family moved here six years before Montana became a state. It is fitting that a founding member of this state a century later now leads it. And defending you in Washington is another fifth-generation rancher who has served Montana in the House of Representatives and two terms as our governor. Allow me the opportunity to introduce you to your next Governor John Dutton and US Senator Lynelle Perry."

The crowd erupted into louder cheers as Dad and Senator Perry stepped onto the stage together, both of them radiating the kind of quiet authority that made the room feel even bigger. Dad's stride was confident, his jaw set in that way that always meant business. Senator Perry, tall and regal, was right beside him, her hand raised in greeting as the crowd went wild.

Jamie was already stepping back into the wings, nodding to Dad as they passed each other. I caught the fleeting look they shared—something like understanding, but also distance. I didn't know what it was exactly, but it wasn't the kind of look that spoke to the bond most fathers and sons had.

The applause kept going, deafening in the packed room, but for a second, it all felt distant. My mind was still on the edge of what I knew we were facing. I had to hope, but I also had to brace for what came next. The land wars, the deals made behind closed doors, the pressure from all sides. We'd already fought so hard, but now, with Dad in office, the fight was only just beginning.

Dad stepped up to the podium, his face hardening as he looked out over the crowd. He didn't need to speak right away, the silence in the room was enough to draw everyone's attention.

I stood by my brother on the stage, a smile plastered on my face. A show of support even though it was hollow, but we would give it.

"Thank you," he began, his voice cutting through the noise, "The open bar was my daughters' idea. I see it worked. We have a lot of work to do. And a log of work to undo. The question we all have to answer, is what will Montana look like in 100 years? Right now, we are seen as the rich man's plaything. We are New York's novelty and California's toy. Not anymore. You've elected me to be a steward of this state, of its land and its people, and that's what I'll be. Protecting you now is how Montana still looks like Montana when none of here tonight are here to see it. Thank you."

My father gave a wave to his constituents and stepped aside for Senator Perry to give a speech.

"How do you follow that?" she said with a smile, "I don't know. Um…ditto. The wars that Montana faces here at home, those will be my wars in Washington."

Once the speeches ended and the crowd began to disperse, I watched Jamie make his way to the back, probably to shake hands with whoever needed it, to make the rounds. But for all his posturing, I knew the real work was coming. And none of us were prepared for it.

I turned to watch my father, his back straight, his face stoic as he was surrounded by a sea of congratulatory handshakes and back pats. I could see the burden already settling on his shoulders, the weight of what it meant to actually lead. To make decisions that would affect thousands of lives.

But it wasn't just his burden anymore. It was all of ours.

—-

I rolled over in my bed, finding the warmth of Ryan lying beside me. I pressed my lips to his neck.

"What are you doing, baby?" Ryan's voice was thick with sleep, the words rumbling low in his chest as I pressed my lips to the warmth of his neck. My fingers danced over his skin, trailing down his chest beneath the blanket, searching, teasing.

"Just trying to have my way with you," I murmured, my breath hot against his flesh. My hand slipped inside his boxers, and he groaned softly, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing into my touch.

"You came in late last night," he said, his breath hitching as I wrapped my fingers around him, stroking slowly, deliberately. His voice was still heavy with sleep, but there was a hint of something else there too—arousal, curiosity, maybe even a little amusement.

"That's why I waited until the morning," I told him, my lips brushing against his ear as I spoke. My fingers moved with purpose, my touch firm but gentle, coaxing him awake in the best possible way.

Ryan's hand reached up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as he turned his head to meet my lips with his. The kiss was slow, languid, but there was a heat building between us, a fire that had been smoldering all night and was now threatening to burst into flames.

I could feel him growing harder in my hand, his body responding to my touch in a way that made my own desire flare. I broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, dark and heavy with need.

"Good morning," I whispered, a smile playing on my lips as I leaned in to kiss him again.

He laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Good morning," he said, his voice rough with desire.

The sun was barely up, the soft light filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow over the room. The sheets were tangled around us, the air thick with the scent of sleep and us. It was a perfect moment, one of those rare, stolen bits of time where the world outside ceased to exist, and it was just the two of us, lost in each other.

I shifted, moving to straddle him, the blanket slipping down to pool around my waist. His hands rested on my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me closer, grinding me against him. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I let out a quiet moan, my head falling back as I rocked against him.

"You're trouble," he muttered, his hands sliding up my sides, his thumbs brushing against the underside of my breasts.

"You love it," I shot back, my voice breathless as I leaned down to kiss him again. His lips were warm, soft, and I could taste the sleep still clinging to them, mixing with the heat of his desire.

He chuckled again, the sound vibrating against my lips. "I do," he admitted, his hands moving to cup my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples through the thin fabric of my shirt.

I arched into his touch, my breath catching in my throat as pleasure shot through me. My hands moved to his chest, sliding over his skin, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.

I could feel him beneath me, hard and hot, and I reached down to free him from the confines of his boxers. He groaned as my hand wrapped around him again, my fingers moving in a slow, steady rhythm that had him thrusting up into my grip.

"Fuck," he muttered, his head falling back against the pillow as I inched down to take him into my mouth.

The taste of him exploded on my tongue, salty and sweet, and I moaned around him, the vibration earning me another groan from deep in his chest. His hands tightened in my hair, holding me in place as he thrust up into my mouth, his hips moving in time with my rhythm.

It didn't take long for him to reach the edge, his body tensing beneath me as he came, his release spilling into my mouth. I swallowed, licking my lips as I pulled back to look up at him, a satisfied smile on my face.

"Good morning," he said again, his voice rough and breathless as he reached down to pull me up for another kiss.

"Baby, I love the way you wake me up," Ryan's voice was a rough murmur against my lips, his breath hot and unsteady as his hands gripped the sides of my body, pulling me under him. The weight of him pressed me into the bed, his chest rising and falling with the same raw hunger that burned in his eyes.

I lifted my hips, desperate, as he shoved my panties down my legs in one swift move, the roughness of his hands leaving a trail of heat. His body pressed against mine, and in an instant, he was inside me—hard and deep, the feeling of him filling me, pushing me further into the bed beneath us.

My legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer, urging him on as he drove into me, relentless, the force of each thrust making my breath catch in my throat. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he moved with a brutal intensity that had me losing myself to him. Every inch of him inside me, every push, made the world around us blur and fade away.

I dug my nails into his shoulders, the pressure coiling tight in the pit of my stomach, a wave of need building that I couldn't control. I was on the edge, trembling with the urge to break apart. My legs tightened around his hips, pulling him deeper as my walls pulsed around him, the sensation overwhelming. I bit my lip, desperate to quiet the moans that wanted to spill out, but it was getting harder to hold back.

"I want to hear you, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He shifted his hips, rolling them just enough to change the angle, and suddenly he was hitting that spot deep inside me. My body jerked, and the pressure inside me shattered.

"Ryan," I gasped, the tremors coursing through me, my body trembling violently as waves of pleasure crashed over me.

His pace quickened, chasing his own release now, his body tightening with each thrust.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, his movements erratic as he finally found his release, his body shuddering above mine.

"Good morning," I murmured again, my voice breathless, still reeling from the aftermath. My legs were tangled with his, our bodies pressed close together as I tried to steady my breath, the weight of him beside me grounding me.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice low and rough, as he rolled to his back, pulling me tightly to his side. His arm wrapped around me, his hand resting against the small of my back, holding me close. "You sure know how to make it a good morning."

His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, and I felt the lingering warmth of him against me, the quiet satisfaction of being wrapped up in the aftermath of everything we'd shared. There was a sense of calm now, a contrast to the storm that had come before, and I couldn't help but smile softly, my head resting on his shoulder.

"My dad's thing is in a couple hours," I told him, my voice still a little breathless, the remnants of our time together lingering. "Beth wants me to put on a show. Wow the crowd while they celebrate his victory."

Ryan's chest rose and fell slowly as he processed the information, still catching his breath. He glanced over at me, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well," he said, his voice low and steady, "I suppose we should get the day started."

I could feel the weight of the day pressing on me already. It wasn't just another event—it was a spectacle, a performance. It was a party to celebrate my dad's victory, and I was glad to be a part of it, to contribute to his success. And, truthfully, I was proud of the work I'd done with Maverick and Goose—two of the best horses I'd ever trained. But that wasn't what Beth wanted.

Beth wanted a spectacle. She didn't want just a display of skill; she wanted something flashy, something that would steal the spotlight and leave everyone talking. She wanted me to wow them, to be the star of the show, to perform for their entertainment.

I wasn't sure I could stomach it. I didn't mind the attention in certain moments, but this felt different. I didn't want to be a puppet for their entertainment. I just wanted to show off the horses, to let them shine, but that wasn't the kind of show Beth had in mind.

After a quick shower, I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sports top, wanting to get in a last bit of training before the event. The ranch was already buzzing with activity, people setting up for the festivities later, but I needed to focus, to get in the zone for the horses.

Ryan and I walked out to the barn together, the cool morning air biting at my skin as we made our way through the growing crowd. His gaze swept over me, lingering with that signature smirk that made my pulse quicken.

"How am I supposed to go to work with you looking like that?" he teased, his eyes raking over me.

I shot him a playful look, a grin tugging at my lips. "I'm sure you'll find a way," I replied, keeping my voice light as I stepped into Maverick and Goose's stall to saddle them up for practice.

The two of them were inseparable, their bond so strong that if I tried to put them in separate stalls, they'd bang the walls with such force that it would only be a matter of time before they found each other again. They were like that—always drawn to one another, never wanting to be apart.

I ran my hands over their coats, feeling the warmth of them, the trust between us. I was ready to show off what we'd been working on, but deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that this day wasn't going to go quite how I wanted.

I clipped their bits together and grabbed their reins, leading Maverick and Goose out into the arena. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the dusty ground as the ranch came to life around us.

"Jesus Christ," Rip's voice rang out from atop his horse, his eyes scanning the chaos as people bustled about preparing for the event. "Can you believe this fucking shit show?"

I shot him a knowing glance as I kept walking. "It's only for today. I know how much you hate people."

Rip snorted, his tone dry as ever. "I only hate most people." He shifted in his saddle, his gaze narrowing as he took in the crew. "And we got calves on the ground." He turned his horse to face the rest of the hands, his voice sharp and commanding. "You see a coyote prowling our calves, I want you to shoot it. You see a wolf, you shoot it too. You see a bear, I want you to try and haze it off. But if he's on a carcass, we call it in. Take a picture of it with your phone."

I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. "Have fun being cowboys," I called after them as they rode off, the tension already thick in the air.

Turning back to Maverick and Goose, I tugged them into the arena, ready to focus on the task at hand. The noise of the ranch faded into the background as I guided them into a slow trot, allowing them to warm up. They moved in perfect sync, their bodies flowing together like they'd been born to do this.

"That's it, boys," I murmured, encouraging them as we circled the arena. Then, with a quick shift, I made a run to grab one of their saddle horns and swung up onto Maverick's back.

The pace picked up immediately, the horses responding to the shift in my weight as I balanced, standing tall on Maverick's back. "Good boy," I muttered under my breath as we rounded the corral again, the rhythm of their movements beneath me making me feel connected to their power, to the bond we shared.

With each step, they responded to me. My feet settled on each of their backs as I stood tall, one hand gripping the reins, the other raised high in the air, my balance flawless. I felt their steady pace, their awareness of my every shift, every movement. Together, we were unstoppable.

I stood tall as Maverick and Goose approached the first jump, their muscles coiling with anticipation. I clicked my tongue, and they leaped over it in perfect harmony, the fluidity of their movements a testament to the work we'd put in together.

"Alex!" My sister's voice cut through the air, and I felt a slight shift in my balance, but I kept steady, the rhythm of the horses keeping me grounded. I slipped down into a seated position on Goose's back before ushering them to a stop, turning to face her.

"What do you need, Beth?" I asked, my voice cool but laced with the edge of the frustration I couldn't quite hide. Over the past few months, it had felt like she'd been tormenting me more than usual. It wasn't just the normal older sister teasing—it was deeper, more personal. She was punishing me for helping Jamie, for standing up for him when no one else would.

She smirked, the same way she always did when she had something up her sleeve. "I got your costume ready for the party tonight," she said, holding up a garment bag like it was some kind of prize.

I raised an eyebrow. "I already picked out what I was wearing."

Beth's grin widened, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Let's just say I made a few modifications to it."

I dismounted from the horses, my feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. As I walked over to her, she lowered the zipper on the bag, revealing the costume inside. It was sheer nude fabric, glitter and rhinestones scattered across it in strategic places—just enough to cover the parts that couldn't be shown in public.

I stared at it for a moment, trying to process what I was seeing. "I can't wear that to ride," I told her, the disbelief in my voice sharp. "It'll look like I'm riding around naked. I'm not doing a Lady Godiva show."

Beth's smirk never wavered, but I saw the challenge in her eyes. She was daring me to refuse, daring me to fight her on this. But there was no way I was going to let her pull this stunt.

"If I wear this," I told her evenly, "it won't just be embarrassing for me. It'll be embarrassing for Dad too."

Beth's smirk flickered, but only for a second before she tossed the costume to the ground like it was worthless. "Fine," she sneered. "I'll just have to tell Daddy what you did."

I didn't flinch. I didn't waver. I just looked at her, meeting her challenge head-on.

"I don't care anymore," I said, my voice steady, unwavering. "Tell him."

Beth's expression shifted, her bravado faltering, but I pressed on. My voice softened, but the weight of my words hung heavy between us.

"Tell him I killed the man who tried to ruin this family. The man who tried to kill him. Who tried to kill you." I took a slow step closer, my gaze locked onto hers. "See how disappointed he'll be in me."

The air between us crackled, thick with everything unspoken. I could see the war in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with restrained emotion. But she didn't say a word.

Because she knew the truth just as well as I did.

I made it to the bunkhouse just in time to watch Dad on the television, standing tall as he was sworn in. It should've been a proud moment, something I got to witness firsthand. But Beth had made sure I wasn't there. Another calculated move to push me aside.

I wanted to be there—to stand with him, to support him like a daughter should. But I also knew Beth. Knew the game she was playing. If I'd shown up anyway, it would've caused a scene. And that was the last thing Dad needed today.

So I stayed behind, watching from a distance as my father stepped into his new role. It should've felt like a victory. Instead, it just felt like another reminder that, in Beth's eyes, I didn't belong.

The guys were gathered behind me, playing cards, their laughter and occasional curses filling the bunkhouse.

"Hey, Alex," Teeter called over, "how dressy is this deal?"

"It's a party for the fucking Governor," Ryan quipped, not even looking up from his hand. "I'd say it's pretty fucking dressy. But since you don't own any dresses, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Screw you," Teeter shot back. "I have dresses."

Ryan finally looked up, eyebrows raised. "You have dresses?"

"I got dresses."

Colby snorted. "You have dresses?"

Teeter rolled her eyes. "Is there a fucking echo in here? Tell 'em, Alex."

I smirked. "Every woman has at least three. Even girls like us who don't wear them."

Ryan leaned back in his chair, still skeptical. "Explain this to me, 'cause I've only ever seen you in one."

I held up a finger. "We've got the dress we wear to formal occasions."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, that's the one I saw."

I held up another. "Then there's the one for church."

"And the third?" Colby asked.

I grinned. "The fuck-me dress."

Colby blinked. "The what now?"

"The fuck-me dress," I repeated.

"And what exactly is a fuck-me dress?" he asked, half-laughing.

I shrugged. "It's the one you wear with your fuck-me shoes."

"Gee, glad you cleared that up," he chuckled.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice just enough to make them hang on to every word. "It's the one you wear when you don't plan on wearing it very long."

The table erupted into laughter, Colby shaking his head as Ryan smirked.

Teeter just grinned. "See? Told y'all."

"Hey, Teeter," Walker drawled, shuffling his cards. "Jake's got dresses too if you need to borrow one."

Jake nearly choked. "The hell, man? What're you messing with me for?"

Lloyd let out a rough laugh. "I'd love to see the dress Jake could fit into."

"It'd be the size of a damn bed sheet," Teeter added, grinning. The table erupted in laughter.

I smirked. "Just remember, Jake—this ain't a fuck-me dress kind of party."

Jake threw up his hands. "Why the hell is everyone on my ass?"

Walker grinned. "Ah, hell, Jake, something frilly might suit you."

"Maybe a little lace," Ethan added, chuckling.

Jake shot him a glare. "What the hell are you laughing at?" He nudged Ethan hard enough to jostle his drink.

Before Ethan could answer, Rip's voice sliced through the noise like a whip.

"I don't need you all drunk. This party ain't for you. Ethan, you wanna tell me what's so fucking funny?"

Ethan barely hesitated. "Jake's picking out his dress for tonight."

Rip's eyes narrowed. "Do what?"

Teeter, straight-faced as ever, nodded. "He wants to wear a dress, sir."

Rip exhaled sharply, looking at Jake like he was the dumbest son of a bitch alive. "You got a bet to settle, you settle it somewhere else. You put on a fucking dress, and I'll hang you in it."

Jake threw up his hands. "I ain't wearing no damn dress!"

Rip's glare swept over all of us. "Just behave, all of you. And don't be an idiot. Get your show shirts on. Let's go. Get your shit together."

The laughter died down as chairs scraped back and boots hit the floor. Jake grumbled under his breath, but he wasn't dumb enough to push his luck. Not with Rip.

"Now y'all got me in trouble," Jake muttered.

I ignored him, heading to the bathroom to change. The outfit I picked was showy, but not in the way Beth wanted. Snug, stretchy jeans lined with fringe, paired with a matching top. The Yellowstone logo shimmered in glitter across the fabric—flashy but respectable.

Beth wanted a spectacle. I'd give them a show—just on my own terms.

I ran through my routine with Denim, hanging off the side, flipping, balancing, pushing my body to the limit. The crowd gasped as I backflipped off his back, landing firm in the dirt. I threw up a wave, chest heaving, as Lloyd took Denim's reins and Ryan led Maverick and Goose to the center of the arena.

A sharp click of my tongue sent them circling. Perfect sync—just like we practiced.

I took off running, grabbing onto Maverick's saddle and hauling myself up in one fluid motion. My body moved on instinct, sliding onto Goose's back, then back again. My heart pounded with the rhythm of their hooves, adrenaline buzzing through my veins as I rose to stand.

A nod to Lloyd and Ryan, and they set up the jump. Higher than we'd practiced. My pulse kicked harder, but it was too late to back down.

Focus. Trust.

I clicked my tongue.

Maverick and Goose surged forward, muscles coiling, launching us into the air. For a split second, we were weightless. Then the sharp crack of hooves hitting the top rail. The obstacle tumbled, but I didn't flinch.

Acknowledge the mistake, and the rest of the performance would unravel.

Instead, I slid down onto Goose's back, exhaling slow. "Good boys," I whispered, running a hand over their damp coats. With a tug of the reins, I brought them to a stop, lifting my chin to the crowd.

The show wasn't perfect. But it was mine.

I led them to the barn, still reeling with adrenaline. Trying to shake off the hiccup. I pat them down, made sure they were cooled off before loading their troughs with hay.

"You were amazing out there," Ryan's voice cut through the noise in my head.

"I fucked up," I muttered, "I should have made sure y'all knew. I'm sorry."

"Baby, did you hear the crowd?" he asked as he slid his arms around my waist, "They are enamored by you."

"I didn't know you knew such big words, cowboy," I smirked up at him.

Ryan chuckled, tightening his hold around me. "I got a few tricks up my sleeve."

I let out a breath, still feeling the weight of the mistake. "I should've been clearer about the height."

He tilted my chin up, his eyes warm and steady. "You cleared the damn thing. That's what they'll remember."

The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears, a reminder that, perfect or not, I'd put on a hell of a show.

Ryan smirked. "Now, how 'bout we celebrate your victory?"

I arched a brow. "What'd you have in mind?"

His grin turned wicked. "Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something."

"I should probably make an appearance for my dad," I said, glancing toward the crowd. "He is the governor, after all."

Ryan laced his fingers with mine as we stepped out of the barn. The band played from the stage, the music blending with the hum of laughter and conversation. The ranch was packed, people gathered in celebration, drinks in hand.

We fell in line with the rest of the hands, all dressed in crisp, pressed show shirts.

"Much better than a dress," I teased Jake with a smirk.

"Gosh damn," he muttered, taking in the scene. "They ought to throw a party like this every year."

Ryan chuckled. "Actually, Jake, they do. Every four years. When there's a new governor."

Jake scoffed. "Excuse me for not majoring in government studies."

"Diesel Academy ain't exactly a college," Ryan drawled, he gave Jake a look.

Colby smirked, glancing at Jake. "The more you talk to him, the more he talks back. In case you haven't caught on to the pattern yet."

"They on your ass tonight," Teeter chuckled, shaking her head.

I exhaled, straightening my shoulders. "I gotta go be a good daughter for once." My gaze flicked toward the canopy where all the big shots were gathered, sipping whiskey and talking politics.

Ryan's grip lingered on my fingers before I pulled away.

"Save me a dance, cowboy?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

He grinned, tipping his hat. "You've got all of 'em, baby," he called after me.

I sucked in a breath, plastering on a smile as people crowded around, offering congratulations on my ride and praising how great my father was going to be for Montana. The compliments were kind, but I knew better. My dad wasn't doing this for the state—he was doing it for the ranch. The power and influence would secure his legacy, keep the ranch safe, and line his pockets with more than just land.

But I kept my mouth shut. There was no point in sharing that tidbit with the crowd. Not now, not in front of the people who only saw what they wanted to see—the politician, the hero. I let them keep their illusions, nodding and smiling politely, letting the words wash over me.

I took my seat at the head table, trying to steady my nerves as Beth, Senator Perry, and Dad settled into their spots beside me. The noise of the event buzzed in the background, but for a moment, it all felt far away.

"You looked so graceful out there, Alex," Lynell said with a warm smile, her eyes still gleaming from the performance. "Makes me miss riding."

I flashed her a grin, leaning in slightly. "I could have the boys set up some barrels for you. The crowd would love it."

Lynell laughed, shaking her head, her smile soft and genuine. "I'll leave the riding to you, Alex. I didn't bring a flashy outfit with me."

I chuckled, glancing down at my own outfit. "I'm sure you could've pulled it off if you had."

"Come on, Alex," Beth said with that familiar, forced cheer, her hand already on my arm. "Let's go wander." I knew exactly what this was—my cue to step away. I'd been sitting at the grown-up table too long, and she didn't want me talking to Dad or Jamie for too long without her watching over.

"Y'all aren't gonna eat?" Dad asked, his voice tinged with that protective tone, not quite realizing what Beth was pulling.

"Not dressed like this," she shot back, tugging me along after her with more force than necessary.

"Have a good night, Dad," I said, trying to sound casual, but I couldn't help the way the words felt tight in my throat.

I waited until we were out of earshot, then I muttered, "Let go of my fucking arm."

Beth's grip loosened, and she pulled her hand away like she'd been burned. "You need to stay away from them. I mean it."

I stopped walking and turned to face her, my voice low but firm. "He's my father, and Jamie's my brother. And they're going back to Helena in a few days. So you can have them all to yourself. To work on whatever little plot you've got brewing. I'm not your enemy. I never have been."

Beth's eyes flickered to Jamie, then back to me, her lips curling into a thin line. "When you chose to protect him," she said, her voice sharp, "you decided which side of the fight you were on."

"You're fighting with yourself," I said, my voice steady but laced with frustration. "Cause I'm not a part of it. I'm done. Just go and try to be happy. And let the rest of us find our happiness too."

I turned away from her, not giving her a chance to respond. I wasn't going to waste another moment on the twisted mess she kept trying to drag me into.

I leaned against the fence, watching the hands in the arena practice roping on each other. Ryan's eyes met mine, and a smile tugged at his lips as he caught my gaze. Slowly, he started walking toward me, his boots kicking up the dust with each step.

"Nope," I called out, crossing my arms. "I'm not going down in the dirt, cowboy."

He didn't skip a beat, his grin widening. "How about a dance then?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Not sure if I'm ready to dance yet either."

Ryan's eyes sparkled with mischief, his voice playful. "What if I insist?"

"How do you plan on doing that?" I shot back, challenging him.

Without missing a beat, he swung his lasso expertly, the rope whipping through the air before landing neatly around my waist, pulling me closer to him in one smooth motion.

"Real smooth, cowboy," I smirked, as he dropped the rope to the ground.

He placed one hand firmly on my hip and took my other hand in his, guiding me effortlessly into a two-step. We moved in sync, our feet gliding across the corral, the soft beat of the music from the party just a background hum to the rhythm between us.

His touch was warm and familiar, and I couldn't help but smile as we swayed in the dusty arena. "Guess you're making me dance after all," I said softly, our movements flowing effortlessly as we lost ourselves in the moment.

"I'll take any opportunity I can get to have you in my arms," he murmured in my ear.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I played it off with a smirk. "Smooth talker," I teased, though my voice betrayed me, a little softer than before.

Ryan's grip on my waist tightened just slightly as he spun me in a slow circle, his movements effortless, like he was born knowing how to lead. "Just honest," he said, his breath warm against my cheek.

The distant hum of laughter and music faded, the world shrinking down to the steady rhythm of our boots in the dirt. For the first time in a long time, I let myself relax into him, let myself forget about all the chaos waiting beyond this moment.

"Think you can handle another dance after this one?" he asked, dipping his head just enough so his words danced over my ear.

I exhaled a small laugh. "Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"If you plan on using that rope again," I teased.

His grin was slow, knowing. "Only if you run."

"I'm not going anywhere cowboy," I titled my head as I stepped up on my toes, lips pressing against his in a lingering kiss.

Ryan didn't hesitate. His arms tightened around me, pulling me flush against him as he deepened the kiss, slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. The dust swirled around our boots, the sounds of the party melting into the background.

When we finally broke apart, a lazy grin tugged at his lips. "Damn," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. "If I'd known all it took was a lasso to get you in my arms like this, I'd have tried it sooner."

I chuckled, my hands still gripping the front of his shirt. "Guess you'll just have to keep finding reasons to rope me in."

He tilted his head, considering. "I can think of a few."

"Just as long as you remember," I warned playfully, "I let you catch me."

Ryan smirked, pressing another kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Whatever you say, darlin'."

—-

I woke early, the sky still painted in soft hues of dawn, and made my way to the barn. I knew my father well enough to guess where he'd be—seeking a quiet moment with his horse before heading back to Helena, back to the chaos of being Governor. And for once, I knew Beth wouldn't be there to stop me from talking to him.

I paused at the barn door, leaning against the frame as I watched him run a weathered hand down his horse's nose. His shoulders, always strong, seemed heavier now, weighed down by responsibility. I hesitated, letting him have that last moment of peace before I said what I came to say.

"Morning, sweetheart," Dad said without turning, his voice low and steady.

"Morning, Dad," I replied, stepping inside. My boots scuffed against the dirt floor as I closed the distance between us. "I'm gonna miss seeing you here when you go."

He sighed, nodding slowly. "Yeah… When I took over this ranch from your grandfather thirty years ago, I haven't spent more than a few nights away from it since." His fingers absently traced the bridle, lost in thought.

I watched him, taking in the lines on his face, the way he carried the weight of both our family and this land. "That's gonna be hard for you," I said softly.

He exhaled a quiet laugh. "Hard don't cover it."

I nodded, understanding more than he probably realized. The ranch, the legacy, the sacrifices—it was in our blood. And now, it was changing.

I swallowed hard before speaking, my voice softer than I intended. "I want you to know—I'll keep fighting for our family. All of our family. Here, while you're fighting there."

Dad turned then, really looking at me, his expression unreadable. His gaze was heavy, not with disappointment, but with the weight of a father who had seen too much and wished his children had seen less. "I know you will," he said finally. His voice was rough, quieter than before. "I just wish I could've protected you and your brothers and your sister from the shit it takes to keep this place safe. That you didn't have to do all the things you had to do."

I nodded, pressing my lips together as I closed my eyes for a moment. Did he really know? Did he know how deep I was in it? How many lines I had crossed to protect this family, to keep the ranch standing? My chest felt tight as I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"It wasn't Jamie," I said finally, my voice steady as I met his gaze again.

His brow furrowed slightly. "What wasn't Jamie?"

I took another breath, knowing once I said it, there was no taking it back. "That killed Randall."

Dad didn't move, didn't so much as blink, but I knew him well enough to know the shift happening beneath the surface. So I kept going.

"I saw what killing that reporter did to him. What it cost him. And I knew he wouldn't survive it—not this time. Even knowing what an evil sack of shit Randall was, Jamie couldn't face that demon and still even be an echo of the brother I love." I swallowed. "So I took that burden from him."

The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between us like the weight of the confession I had just laid bare.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly, his voice carrying a kind of sorrow I hadn't expected. "Taking a life, no matter how justified it may be, is never easy."

I had braced myself for something else—for anger, disappointment, maybe even a lecture about what I had done. But none of that came. He didn't yell, didn't scold. He just looked at me with tired eyes, weighed down by the same burden I carried.

It wasn't that he condoned it. It wasn't that he was proud. He was just… sad. Sad that it had come to this. Sad that protecting our family meant blood on our hands. Sad that the place he built, the legacy he fought to keep, required sacrifices no one should have to make.

I had done what needed to be done. And he understood that better than anyone.

This scene has a great blend of nostalgia, warmth, and subtle humor. Here's a refined and slightly expanded version to enhance the emotional beats and flow:

We didn't say anything else—what else was there to say? Side by side, we walked out of the barn, letting the quiet settle between us. The weight of everything we'd done to protect this place, to protect our family, felt lighter as we stood there, looking out over the land. The first streaks of gold stretched across the sky, casting a warm glow over the eastern pasture. For all the blood, sweat, and sacrifice, moments like this made it feel worth it.

A voice, cracking slightly with lingering traces of adolescence, pulled us from our thoughts.

"Haven't seen you in a while."

I turned to see Carter standing a few steps away, his hands shoved into his pockets. He'd changed in the months Dad had been gone, lost the roundness in his face. He wasn't a kid anymore—he was nearly as tall as my father, his frame leaner, his presence more sure of itself.

Dad stared at him for a long beat, then shook his head. "Jesus Christ, it really has been a while."

Carter smirked. "You want me to saddle one?"

Dad let out a sigh, looking over the horses, his fingers twitching slightly—like he wanted to say yes. "I wish I had the time."

"You're the governor now," Carter said, like he was still trying to wrap his head around it.

"Yep," Dad replied.

"The big man."

"So they say," Dad chuckled.

Carter's smirk softened. "I miss our rides."

A flicker of something passed over Dad's face—regret, maybe, or just the weight of knowing how much time had slipped through his fingers. "Yeah," he said, his voice quieter. "I miss 'em too. We'll do 'em again." Then, with a glance at me, he added, "Until then, Alex can ride with you."

I smiled. "Anytime."

Dad's gaze lingered on Carter, something unreadable in his expression before he said, "And quit eating the fertilizer."

Carter blinked. "Huh?"

"Quit growing," Dad clarified.

"Why?"

"Because it freaks me out." He shook his head, looking at the kid who wasn't a kid anymore. "You're a walking reminder of how much time I don't have. If you grow a beard, you're fired."

Carter grinned. "No beards. Got it."

We all laughed, the moment lightening as the sun inched higher in the sky. But beneath it all, I could still feel the unspoken truth hanging in the air—things were changing, faster than any of us could stop it.

I walked with my father toward his waiting ride, the sleek black SUV looking out of place against the backdrop of the ranch. It was a stark contrast to his old pickup, the one coated in dust and memories. This car, with its tinted windows and government plates, was another reminder of how much had changed.

The driver stepped forward, opening the door for him before giving me a polite nod. "Ma'am."

I let out a quiet chuckle, shaking my head. "I don't think I've grown up enough to be a 'ma'am' just yet."

Dad turned back, his gaze heavy with something deeper than amusement. "I wish I could say that's true." He hesitated, his fingers tapping idly against the roof of the SUV. Then, with a half-smirk, he added, "Don't you go getting married and having babies before I get back."

I smiled, a warmth settling in my chest. "I'll wait for you, Dad."

For a moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—pride, sorrow, maybe both. Then he exhaled, looking to his driver with reluctant acceptance. "Take me to Helena."

Before the driver could close the door, Jamie's voice cut through the morning air.

"Dad."

I turned to see him striding toward us, his face tense.

"We need to go to Billings," he said.

Dad frowned. "Why? What's in Billings?"

Jamie's jaw tightened. "Kayce." He hesitated just long enough for my stomach to knot. "Monica was in an accident. She and the baby are there."

The weight of those words settled over us like a thick fog. Dad didn't say anything right away, but the shift in him was immediate—his back straightened, his hand dropping from the SUV door. In an instant, being the Governor didn't matter. He was just a father again, a grandfather.

"Billings," Dad said, his voice firm. "Now."

The driver nodded, already moving. Jamie climbed in beside him, and I took a step back, watching the SUV pull away, dust swirling in its wake.

I let out a slow breath, my heart heavy with worry.

Some things, no matter how much time passed, never stopped feeling personal.

I climbed into my truck, falling into line behind the black SUV as we sped toward Billings. The road stretched ahead, long and uncertain, my fingers gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual. I wasn't sure what I'd find when I got there.

The way Jamie had said it—it wasn't going to be an easy road.

Monica and Kayce had just found out they were expecting again not too long ago. I did the math in my head as I drove. She was at least three weeks early. Too early.

By the time we pulled up to the hospital, my chest was tight. I followed my father inside, Jamie at my side, stepping into the cool, sterile air of the waiting room. And then I saw him.

Tate sat in a chair outside the hospital room, his small frame somehow looking bigger, older than I remembered. The boyishness in his face had thinned, replaced by something I didn't want to name. His shirt was cut up the sleeve, and his arm was wrapped in a cast.

I hesitated for only a second before sinking into the chair beside him.

"Tate," I said softly.

He didn't look at me right away. Just stared down at his lap, his fingers tracing along the edge of the hospital blanket draped over his knees. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, distant.

"I had a brother," he said. "For an hour, anyway."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

I rested my hand on his shoulder, gripping gently, wanting to take even a fraction of the pain from him. He and I still had a bond—one that hadn't faded, even with time.

"A brother?" I muttered, barely trusting my own voice.

"John." He finally looked up, his gaze finding my father.

Dad's face was unreadable, but I could see it in his eyes—that name had landed like a heavy stone in his chest.

"John?" he echoed, his voice quieter than I'd ever heard it.

"They named him John," Tate said.

For a moment, none of us moved. Then my father swallowed hard and stepped forward, moving into the hospital room without another word.

He didn't need to say anything.

He just needed to be there.