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“Or you could’ve just told me,” I said as I pushed to my feet. “I could’ve walked off the ranch at any point and found him. He could’ve had the chance at a real life instead of the one he got. He didn’t deserve any of what the three of you put him through. If you’d done a single fucking thing to protect him, he wouldn’t have gone through any of that.”
Instead, the lot of them picked a fucking plot of land over a kid.
“No, y’all decided to bury your fucking heads in the sand, and for what?” I gestured around me. “For some fucking land? For fucking cows? You failed him—all of you—when you decided his worth wasn’t more than this stupid fucking business. Than a stupid fucking job!” “Now, it ain’t like that—” “It is like that!” I interrupted. How could none of them understand that?
“I would’ve burned the whole fucking place to the ground before I let him run away afraid for his life.”
“PTSD is a bitch of a thing. It shreds apart all the things you knew about yourself and then keeps on taking from things you never thought it could touch.”
“I’d rather go through hell with you, West, than watch it destroy you.”
“I don’t know.” His lips quirked at the corner. “Watching you damn near fight an old lady over me was kind of fun. Maybe I’ll see how many other women I can get you to fight.” “Don’t you fucking dare.” “We’ll see how the day goes.”
“You’re my priority, baby, above anything else.”
“Don’t you worry, doll face,” Darla whispered behind me. “Jackson made sure we got you.” Those words wrapped around my heart like barbed wire, and I sucked in a sharp breath. I glanced at the space around me—more than a generous one-person space in every direction. Jackson really had fucking thought of everything.
“You want to look for the broken one… the one without a fire in him… the one with nothing behind his stare. That’s the one that’s got nothing fucking left to lose. That’s the one that’ll explode because the fallout doesn’t fucking matter. Not anymore. There’s nothing left to save.”
The rest is just bullshit and speed bumps, baby boy.”
I renamed him Ferdinand because he loves flowers. He’s obsessed with my mom’s flower beds along the fence. He loves them so much that Peter put in fake ones when the season turned just to give him something to look at.
But don’t let your fear be the driver.
Ferdinand got out and made some fucking friends—literally. Including Daisy. The fucker knocked up my girl.
“I love you, Jackson. I loved you growing up, I loved you long after I left, and I still love you. I’ll always love you.”
“Going to email Colter Lexington and find out if the offer to buy my ranch is still on the table,” he called over his shoulder. He was… what? “What?” I turned fast in my chair as he stopped in the doorway. “I told you once, West, and I’ll tell you again,” he began, “you’re my priority.”
“And if that means selling my family ranch to be with you, then I’m selling my goddamn ranch,” Jackson continued. He what?
