Page 194 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

I rest my elbows against the railing beside her. “You know what’s funny?”

“I doubt this story ends funny.”

“No, definitely not.” I glance sideways at her. “But when we were kids, Silas wanted to play football for exactly one semester.”

Annie blinks at the subject change. “What?”

“Middle school.” I smile faintly at the memory. “He liked it, too. Which was rare enough on its own because Silas came outta the womb acting forty-two and burdened by taxes.”

The corner of Annie’s mouth twitches.

“But Vivian found out practice conflicted with her charity work.” I shrug lightly. “Next day, suddenly football was ‘beneath the Harlan image.’”

Annie’s expression changes slowly. “She made him quit?”

“Oh yeah.” I stare out toward the street again. “And Cody wanted to go to college in Seattle for a while.”

“What happened?”

“Vivian happened.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “She picked our schools. Our schedules. Our clothes at one point. Hell, she used to approve our friends.”

Annie turns toward me fully now. “She what?”

“If she thought somebody wasn’t useful? They stopped getting invited around.” My smile turns thin. “And if we pushed back too hard, she’d remind us how much Ironwood cost to maintain. How much sacrifice legacy required.”

The word “legacy” tastes bitter now.

Always has a little.

“Silas was eighteen when our dad died,” I say. “Vivian stepped in because somebody had to. And for a while… maybe we even needed her.”

Annie’s eyes soften.

“But somewhere along the way,” I continue, “help turned into ownership.”

The creek rushes loud below us. Cold air presses against my face, and suddenly I’m tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.

“Ironwood made us rich,” I admit softly. “But it also made us prisoners.”

Annie goes very still beside me. Then her hand slides slowly across the railing until her fingers touch mine. I lace my fingers through hers automatically.

“You need to understand something,” I say. Annie watches me. “If you stay, this never stops.” I force myself to hold her gaze. “Vivian doesn’t let go of things she thinks belong to her. And Ironwood…” I exhale slowly. “Ironwood is the center of everything around here.”

She doesn’t interrupt. So I keep going.

“You become part of us, you become part of the target too. Forever.” My thumb brushes unconsciously against her hand. “Gossip, pressure, power games. People watching your every move waiting for weakness.” I swallow once. “You still have time to walk away from that.”

The words hurt to say, which is how I know they’re true. Because damn, I want her to stay. Want it in that dangerous, wholehearted way that sneaks up on you before you realize your life rearranged itself around somebody else’s existence.

But wanting someone isn’t the same thing as protecting them. And Annie deserves honesty more than she deserves fantasy.

She just looks at me, wind in her hair, gray eyes tired and brave. Then she lifts her chin, and says the single most terrifyingly beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Then I’ll stop running.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Annie