Page 122 of Branded Betrayal

“Oh, by the way, I was at Brixton’s this morning. The whole town is in an uproar over Tyler Burgess. Of course, some are saying they knew something was off with him.” He snorts. “Everyone’s a genius in hindsight.”

The road curves, and soon, Main Street comes into view. Folks living normal, drama-free lives as they walk up and down the sidewalks, smiling and talking to their neighbors, enjoying the weather.

Fuck, I’d give my right arm for a sliver of normal.

“People have been asking about Savannah,” Colt says. “They want to make sure she’s okay. I don’t think they know she left. They just think she’s keeping a low profile after everything that happened.” After a beat, he says, “You talk to her?”

“No,” I say sharply. “She asked for space, and I’m giving it to her.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my heart jumps high in my chest . . . until I see that it’s Nash calling.

Then it clenches tight.

“What’s up?” I say once I’ve clicked the Accept button.

“You busy right now?” he asks.

“Nah, Colt just picked me up from Birch Falls. I was planning on heading back to Red Rock to get some things in order.” For what reason, I don’t know. Maybe it’s my own self-imposed penance. But I feel like I have to do my part to keep the place running . . . just in case.

“Okay, just meet me here as soon as you can.”

My brows furrow, fingers squeezing the phone tight. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah . . . just get here.” Then he hangs up.

“Where are we going?” Colt asks.

“Red Rock. Something’s up.”

“With Savannah?”

“I don’t know.” But I didn’t like the tone of Nash’s voice. It was like he’s preparing me for something he knows I’m not gonna want to hear.

Panic grips me for the next twenty agonizing minutes before we pull into the drive leading up to Red Rock. Nash waits for us on the porch, pacing with a bottle of beer in his hand.

I jump out before Colt’s put the truck into park. “What’s going on?”

Nash’s jaw tenses. “Savvie put the ranch up for auction. She’s got the plans in motion already, been working with Kent Atwood on the details. I got a call from him today. She told me she was going to make the arrangements before she left for Denver, but when Kent never reached out, I figured she’d changed her mind.”

My lawyer is Kent’s niece. She never mentioned anything to me about any auction.

My head spins. “You mean she’s really giving this place up? Isn’t she . . . she said she just needed space . . . I didn’t really think she’d . . .”

Nash shakes his head. “She’s really doing it. The auction will be held in six weeks, and the proceeds will repay all the debts on the place. If there’s anything left over, she’ll get the proceeds.”

I sink onto one of the steps. “She’s really walking away for good.”

“I’m sorry, Blaze,” Nash says. “She . . . she said she’s done with Whiskey Creek. For good. She’s not coming back.”

I raise my head, my eyes sweeping over the last piece of Savannah’s family legacy.

“Fuck,” Colt mutters.

“I tried to talk her out of it,” Nash says. “Told her to give it some time before doing anything rash. But she wouldn’t listen.” He sighs. “She sounded . . . empty. Defeated.”

My heart slams against my sternum. All because of me.

“I wanted to tell you before you heard it in town. As soon as the news gets out, people will be all over it like flies on shit. I’ll keep it running until it’s sold.”

“I’ll stay to make sure things are handled,” I say in a gruff voice. “It’s the least I can do after running her off to fucking Denver.”