"How long have you known about me?" Trigg sits forward in his chair, elbows on the table, wholly invested in this conversation.
"I suppose as long as your father," my dad answers, peering down the table. "Anastasia, do you mind pulling an ale out of that bucket in front of you?"
"Sure." Laney's mother twists the bottle from the ice and passes it down. Laney's fingers brush over mine, her soft skin divine against my callused hands. I linger a second longer than necessary before passing the beer to my father.
He's just twisted the top off when Trigg asks, "Do you know why I'm here?"
My father leans back in his chair, taking a long pull off his ice-cold beer, before answering. "Since you're asking, I'm guessing it's not to get to know your uncle."
"No," comes out easily before he's tripping over his words. His eyebrows rise. "I mean, yes…" He pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Well, which is it?" my father prompts.
"It's both. I didn't expect this kind of reception. I wasexpecting to meet resistance, not acceptance," Trigg answers honestly.
I get it. Being dumped on Baylor's doorstep left me completely out of my depth. He was a stranger who shared my blood but nothing else. I had every reason to expect the cold shoulder, not a warm welcome. After all, if I'd never heard of him, there was probably a damn good reason why.
"And the resistance… I suppose you believe I wouldn't willingly acknowledge another heir on the lease?" He rests his beer on the table.
This time, I cut in. "Can you blame him? Not once in my eighteen years did you mention anything about having a brother. If you've known about Trigg all this time, why isn't he already on the lease? You had over twenty years to make that happen."
"My brother never asked," he says, his tone even.
My eyebrows rise. That tracks. They don't talk, but damn. I would have never expected that my father would have it in him to hold a grudge and sacrifice a relationship with his blood. It's not the man I know.
"Okay, back up. How do you know all this?" I start with that question before I ask the harder one. I lean into Laney and say, "Can you pass me a beer?"
It's a natural move, having her at my side again, and it doesn't go unnoticed how easily we fall back in step. Just being next to each other fills the space. It fills it because neither of us wants it. I know this is killing her as much as it is me. I know she feels me in every cell. Her love for me runs through her veins the same way it does me. She passes me the pale ale, knowing it's my favorite, before pulling another out of the bucket and silently offering one to Trigg, who happily takes it.
"As you are now aware, Baylor and I run the family business together. He tends to the horses, and I handle the books and our online presence. However, since my brother refuses to communicate directly, preferring to nurse old grievances, I'm forced to get most of my information secondhand through Rupert Downs."
"So, you're saying my father is the only one refusing to let bygones be bygones?" Trigg's voice cuts through the evening air, irritation sharpening each word. "Your son has been living at Hale Ranch for the past six years, and you only made one call, and in the twenty years I've lived there, you haven't visited once. You're an heir. It's your land too. You grew up on that dirt. You came from it, but you refuse to return to it." He leans forward, firelight dancing across his face. "You can't tell me that's all because of my dad."
My father drains half his beer in one long pull, flames from the table's fire feature reflecting in his distant eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice carries the weight of decades. "You're not wrong—phones, planes, and automobiles work both ways." His gaze finds mine, raw and unguarded. "I never wanted to be a stranger to him. But he gave me no choice, and maybe...maybe I'm just built wrong. When I love someone, I convince myself I'm poison in their lives, that they're better off without me contaminating their happiness." His laugh is bitter, hollow. "But perhaps I should have fought instead. If you truly love something, it's worth bleeding for. And I love my brother."
His gaze drops back to the table, and I know those words were true for him, but they were also for me. He's not just talking about Baylor. He knows exactly what I sacrificed for the woman beside me. How I walked away believing she deserved better than the truth I couldn't keep if I stayed.
"What happened between you and Baylor?" Laney's fingers find mine, and electricity shoots up my arm. "Why did you stop talking?" Her touch is gentle but deliberate. She can sense the old wound my father's words have torn open, and she's anchoring me, reassuring me that no matter where we are, she's here for me, ready to pull me back from the edge if I need her.
"That is the question…" He nods toward the bucket of beers, and Anastasia passes another one down the table. "Growing up, we were as thick as thieves." His voice carries over the chorus of crickets. "Growing up on that ranch is a little boy's haven. We had endless adventures—creeks that ran cold even in August, lakes where we'd skip stones until our arms ached, and animals that knew us by name. We had it made." His eyes grow distant and unfocused, as if he's watching those memories play out in the dancing flames of the fire.
"In high school, everything changed my senior year. I met London's mother, and she stole all my time—every spare moment, every breath." He rolls the cold bottle between his palms, the label peeling under his thumb. "But that's expected when you're in love, isn't it? It's natural to want to be with your person when you find them, to orbit around them like they're the only source of light in your world."
Anastasia passes a bowl of salad around the table, and Laney scoops some onto both our plates.
"In the beginning, I could tell Baylor wasn't a fan of our relationship. The way his jaw would set when I'd cancel our plans, how he'd go quiet when she'd show up at the creek where we were fishing. I went out of my way to include him, tried to make it work, but he didn't like being the third wheel, and she..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "She didn't like having him tag along, which was hard. My best friend and my girl not getting along put me in a rough spot, and I myself was still learning how to navigate the new territory as well."
The sound of Laney's fork clinking against her plate cuts through the silence, and I see her hand still. I reach for her knee under the table and squeeze it gently. If she's hungry, I want her to eat. She needs to feed our baby. I don't know what it's like to be pregnant, but I imagine if you're hungry and there's food in front of you, you want to eat it; your appetite now doubles.
"A month after London was born, she said she couldn't live at the ranch anymore, and she wouldn't give me a reason. She just stood there in the kitchen where I'd eaten breakfast every morning of my life, holding our baby, and said she had to leave. When I offered to build us our own house on the land, somewhere wecould start fresh but still be close to family, she said no. Said she couldn't stay in Bardstown, and that was that."
The silence stretches between us, only the sound of Laney and Anastasia enjoying the dinner they helped prepare exists as Trigg and I stay intently focused on every detail of my father's story.
"So, we left. Leaving was the hardest thing I ever did. I left behind my entire support system, but I did it for my new family."
Trigg and I share a knowing look across the table, our eyes meeting over the flames of the fire pit. The weight of what we know—what he might not—presses down on us like the humid air before a storm. We know why our mother couldn't stay, but the question that matters now is whether he does too.
"Do you know the real reason Mom left?" I already know the answer, but I'm searching for his truth now, wondering if it's the same story he's always told me or if tonight the story might finally change.
