Chapter Text
She’d spent her whole life trying to burn down the world, but he was the only thing that ever felt like an anchor.
Beth sat on the edge of the porch, the worn wood cool against the silk of her dress. The bottle of whiskey was resting on the step below, half-empty, but she wasn't reaching for it anymore. Tonight, the silence of the ranch felt heavier than any corporate battlefield.
She listened to the hum of the night—the distant howl of a coyote, the rhythmic chirp of crickets—and felt the quiet panic that always settled when the distraction of the day finally faded. Rip’s boots scuffed the dirt near the corral, a sound she could pick out of a hundred. He was still out there, finishing the last of his chores, always working. Always steady. Always there.
She took a slow, deep breath, tasting the clean, pine-scented air. It was a life she never asked for, never wanted, yet it was the only one where she didn't feel like a ghost.
Because of him.
The urge to take another sip of the whiskey was on the tip of her tongue, but she was too deep in thought and focused on the sound of his boots scuffling in the dirt.
She murmured to herself, I'm not even sure where we go from here. I'm not even sure if at this point he sees me in the same light as he did when we were much younger. What am I to do?
A shadow detached itself from the side of the cabin, the scent of hay and sweat replacing the pine. Rip stepped into the dim light cast by the kitchen window, his expression unreadable as he rested his worn hat on his knee.
What will you do about what?" he asked, his voice low, lacking any inflection of anger or surprise—just demanding the truth.
Beth snatched the whiskey bottle off the step, her fingers wrapping around the neck like it was a weapon. Her eyes flashed. "Not that that's any of your business. Where do you get off eavesdropping on me."
Rip didn't flinch. He just watched her, his patience a palpable weight in the darkness. "I wasn't eavesdropping, Beth. I live here. And when a woman I intend to spend my life with is sitting alone on the porch talking about walking away, it becomes my damn business.”
Beth threw the bottle down hard enough to make the glass ring on the wood. It didn't break, but the sound was sharp enough to slice the silence. "Wow, Rip! Where did that come from? You've never mentioned anything about that." She stood abruptly, planting her hands on her hips, her dress billowing slightly.
Rip took a single step closer, his eyes locked on hers. "Beth, why are you beating around the bush? Just tell me what you were talking about."
"I don't want to talk about it! It's not up for discussion at this point. I was talking to myself, so where did you come from? And where do you get off throwing demands around?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.
Rip’s expression finally softened, but only marginally. He didn't answer her questions. Instead, he dropped his hat and knelt on the worn plank floor directly in front of her, forcing her to look down at him. The move was simple, but it was the most intense form of submission and command he could offer her.
"I didn’t just come from the barn, Beth. I’ve been sitting right there," he murmured, nodding toward a dark, shadowed corner of the porch, "listening to you. And I heard you say you didn't think I see you the same way I used to." He reached out slowly, taking her wrist, his calloused thumb gently brushing the pulse point. "Tell me why you think I…. ”
Beth stared down at him, her chest heaving. The touch, instead of calming her, fueled her panic. She yanked her wrist free as if his hand had burned her.
"Get off the damn floor, Rip. That’s not going to work," she spat, backing away until the wall of the cabin pressed cold against her back. "I said it’s not up for discussion. Maybe I was talking about the cattle, or the weather, or where the hell my next pack of cigarettes is coming from. Maybe I was just drunk, which, last I checked, is my God-given right."
Rip rose slowly, filling the space she had just tried to create. His eyes never left hers, pinning her to the wall. "You don't get this worked up over cattle, Beth. I'm not stupid.
Now, you can scream, you can break something, or you can run, but I'm not leaving this porch until you look me in the eye and admit what scared you enough tonight to think you don't belong here.”
The words landed heavy, not because they were wrong, but because they were too close. She laughed once, sharp and humorless, the sound cutting through the quiet like broken glass.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. Don’t belong here. You hear that and suddenly you’re a damn philosopher now. Her voice was steady, but her hands weren’t. One of them slid along the wall behind her, fingertips grazing the rough grain of the wood as if she needed to remind herself she was still standing.
He didn’t rise to the bait. Didn’t mirror her sarcasm. He just watched her, the way he always did when he knew she was circling the truth but wasn’t ready to land.
I didn’t say you don’t belong here, he said quietly. I said you’re scared you don’t.
That did it.
Her jaw clenched. The porch felt smaller now, the air tighter. She shoved past him, boots thudding hard against the boards as she paced to the edge, her back to him, shoulders squared like armor.
You don’t get to decide what scares me, she snapped. You don’t get to crawl inside my head and start rearranging shit just because you think you know me.
A beat passed. Then another.
I do know you, he said. And I know when you’re already halfway out the door even while you’re standing right in front of me.
She closed her eyes.
Not because he was wrong. Because he was right — and because admitting that would open a door she wasn’t sure she could close again.
She turned around sharply.
I told you once and I'm not going to tell you again. It's not up for discussion and she storms off.
The words came out clipped and final, every syllable sharpened with intent. Before he could respond, before he could even shift his weight, she was already moving past him.
Her boots hit the porch hard, each step decisive, almost defiant. She didn’t look back. Didn’t slow down. She stormed toward the house, the screen door rattling as it snapped shut behind her. The porch fell quiet again.
He stayed where he was, the night settling around him like a held breath finally released. He didn’t chase her. He knew better. Chasing her now would only drive her further away.
But he also knew something else. People didn’t run that hard unless they were running from something real. And whatever it was, it wasn’t going to stay buried forever.
After storming away from the porch at the cabin because Rip was chipping away at something that Beth is determined to keep to herself. She is now alone at the ranch still contemplating on this uneasy truth that somehow or another has to come out.. but she's not ready because she's fearing that if she reveals the truth about herself Rip will leave her and she's not ready for that she doesn't think she could live without him in her life so she rather carry the secret for as long as she possibly can to postpone the inevitable moment her heart shatters.
The thought sat heavy in her chest, tightening every time she tried to push it down. The house felt too quiet, too big, like it was listening to her unravel. She paced the length of the room, arms wrapped around herself, nails biting into her skin as if pain might ground her in something solid.
She’d survived worse than this. Hell, she’d burned entire worlds down and walked away without looking back. But this wasn’t a battlefield she could dominate or a deal she could outmaneuver. This was the one thing she couldn’t bluff her way through.
Because losing him wouldn’t just hurt. It would end her. So she did what she always did when fear threatened to crack her open. She buried it. Buried it deep, under sarcasm and rage and sharp edges, convincing herself that as long as she didn’t say the words out loud, they couldn’t take shape. As long as she held the secret close, the future could stay suspended just a little longer. Outside, the ranch went on breathing without her, steady and indifferent, unaware of the storm she was trying to outrun.
She stopped near the kitchen counter, bracing her hands against the edge as if the solid weight of it might keep her from tipping over. The glass sat untouched beside her now. Even the burn wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in her head.
She exhaled slowly, forcing the air out of her lungs the way she’d learned to do when things threatened to spin. One breath. Then another. Control was something she understood. Control was something she could still pretend to have.
Outside, a door slammed somewhere on the ranch. Voices carried faintly through the night before fading again. Life moving on, unaware. Unbothered. She straightened, schooling her expression before she even realized she was doing it, muscle memory kicking in out of sheer habit.
Whatever came next, she’d deal with it the same way she always did.
Head-on. Alone.
For now.
Morning comes, Beth is in the kitchen sipping on a cup of coffee before it’s time to leave out to go to work. She’s not really rushing because all she’s doing is running numbers for beef sales. Iron Brand Beef was still just an idea on paper, but the numbers told her everything she needed to know.
It would work. The margins were solid, the demand predictable, the growth steady. Cattle she understood. Markets she could control. There was comfort in that—lines that added up, outcomes that made sense. For a few quiet minutes, she let herself disappear into projections and profit, choosing spreadsheets over memories, strategy over chaos.
Work was easier than feelings. And right now, easy was enough.
Beth's phone buzzes she glances at the screen and her dad's name appears “Daddy”
Hey Daddy!
Hey Sweetheart, do you have those numbers ready for me? We have that zoom call in the morning.
Actually, Daddy! I was about to call you. We're missing some receipts from the last couple of sales. I'm trying to get a hold of Jason right now to come through all of the receipts one last time. The numbers aren't adding up as of yet.
Hey Sweetheart, don’t stress it yet. We’ll go over whatever you’ve got in the morning. If something’s off, we’ll find it.
She exhales slowly, staring down at the paperwork spread across the counter like it might rearrange itself if she looks long enough.
I know, Daddy. I just don’t like going into anything half-blind. You taught me better than that.
A pause on the other end. She can almost picture him, leaning back, weighing her tone more than her words.
You always do this to yourself, he says gently. You carry it all like it’s yours alone.
She smirks, a reflex more than a feeling.
That’s because it usually is.
He doesn’t argue. He never does when it comes to that.
“Bring me what you have. We’ll go over it together in the morning.”
Okay Daddy I'll have to bring you what I have when I get off work today so I'll see you later.
Ok. Sweetheart.
She ends the call, and sets the phone face down on the counter. For a moment, she just stands there, hands braced against the granite, letting the quiet settle again. Numbers, calls, meetings — those she could manage.
It was everything else she was trying not to think about.
As she's walking out the house to her car her phone buzzes again and it's Jason.
Morning Boss, I just got your message about the receipts. I combed through all of our emails and I finally found the missing ones. Are you headed into the office right now?
Yes I am. I should be there in a few. I have a stop to make and then I'm on my way in.
Okay. I'll put them on your desk right now.
Thank you Jason.
You're welcome, Boss. See you in a bit.
Beth made a pit stop at BevMo Liquor to pick up a couple of bottles of whiskey, and Tito's vodka as well as a box of cigarettes. As she was checking out she also picked up a two-pound bag of peanut M&M's
She tosses the bag onto the passenger seat, the bottles clinking softly as she pulls out of the lot. The road stretches ahead, familiar and automatic, muscle memory taking over while her mind drifts just far enough to keep everything else at bay. She turns the radio up, not for the music but for the noise, something to fill the space she doesn’t want to listen to.
By the time the office comes into view, she’s already back in work mode. Shoulders squared. Jaw set. Whatever mess was waiting inside her head gets shoved aside with the rest of the things she refuses to deal with right now. There will be time for that later. Maybe.
She parks, grabs her things, and heads inside without looking back. Numbers first. Meetings next. Everything else can wait.
She comes into the office already moving, bag dropped on the chair, jacket shrugged off without slowing down. Papers are spread across her desk before she even sits.
Jason, my office. Now.
Yes boss?
Let’s look at the missing receipts. I’m still seeing numbers out of place.
He steps closer, tablet in hand, scrolling as he cross-checks figures. She doesn’t wait for reassurance. She never does.
I’ve got a call coming up in about fifteen minutes with a large beef operation that sells direct online. They’re walking me through how they track orders, inventory, and outside sourcing. I want our system ready to match theirs.
She taps the screen where projections climb higher than anything they’ve done before. Selling out isn’t the problem. Cash flow is. You feed the herd long before you see a dime back, and if you don’t plan for that, you drown before you ever get traction.
He nods, already making notes.
Ranching is one thing. Turning it into a business that scales is another. And that part is hers.
The call connects. She listens for a moment, pen tapping once against the desk as the numbers are laid out for her. When the challenge is finally put in front of her, she doesn’t hesitate.
Challenge accepted.
By the time he heads back out with instructions, she’s already pulling up the call details, posture calm, expression sharp. Work had taken over completely now, pushing everything else into the background where she needed it to stay.
For the moment, control was enough.
The day is winding down and Beth is gathering her things to head to the ranch to give John the rundown for the day.
As she is approaching the ranch she is saying to herself this has to work, we can make billions selling beef. Wouldn't you know we have been in the wrong line of work this entire time, falling short every year and taxes and everything else.
She walks in the house, keys set down, bag still over her shoulder.
Beth! Honey, how did your day go hopefully not stressful.
Well Daddy, it’s very seldom that my day isn’t stressful when I’m balancing numbers and margins, chasing missing receipts, and trying to make sure cash flow doesn’t choke a good idea before it ever breathes.
Every time I think I have it figured out, something else pops up that needs fixing.
One wrong number can throw everything off, and I’m not about to let that happen.
So did I hear you mention some type of phone call you had today with a beef corporation?
Yes daddy, they were walking me through their program on how to set up inventory for the beef sales so that we won't fall short. He basically told me how to track orders, inventory, and outside sources. On a spreadsheet to keep track of the money flow.
You can still run cattle but we are also going to be selling beef so we can make up for the losses that we have been encountering all these years. The money flow will not happen overnight but, “Worry not Daddy,” soon enough you will have money coming out your ears.
John nods, absorbing it all, already thinking ahead. He doesn’t question her numbers. He never does. When it comes to money and strategy, he trusts her instincts without hesitation.
He reaches for his phone.
Hey Rip! Can you and Lloyd drop what you're doing and meet me at the barn? I need your help to gather the cattle before it gets dark.
Yes sir, we are on our way now.
Just to hear his name being spoken , let alone hearing his voice on speaker causes a tightening in her chest. She turns slightly away, pretending to straighten the papers she just laid out, but the sound of his voice carries anyway. Familiar. Steady. Unmoved.
As he talks, her mind drifts — uninvited — back to the porch. The silence. The way he looked at her like he already knew something she was trying to outrun. She swallows, forcing herself back into the room, back into the conversation, back into control.
Work had kept her focused all day. Numbers didn’t ask questions. Spreadsheets didn’t look at her like they were waiting for the truth.
But now he was coming up to the ranch, and whatever space she’d carved out for herself was already closing in.
She exhales slowly, steadying herself.
Business first, she tells herself.
Everything else can wait.
Rip sees Beth off in the distance. He tells Lloyd I'll be right back.
Lloyd tells Rip – go ahead handle your business I can take it from here till you get back.
Thanks buddy!
Hey Beth! Please don't bite my head off. Can we talk later?
About what?
I think you know.
I'm not ready yet. I honestly don't think I'll ever be ready.
Be ready for what? I think you owe me an explanation honestly. All I want to know is why you think we won't work.
Rip, I can't do this right now.
Why are you pushing me away or why are you pulling back for me all of a sudden?
I can't do this now, I have to take care of some business for my daddy. I have to go.
Beth left the ranch in a hurry; it was already dark by the time she reached The Crystal Bar in Bozeman. The bar is dim and familiar, the kind of place where nobody asks questions and everyone pretends not to notice when someone is drinking a little too fast. She sits alone at first, nursing one drink and then another, telling herself she just needs the edge taken off. Nothing more.
By the time he walks in, she’s already past the point of counting.
He notices it immediately. The empty glass. The way her shoulders are tight, her jaw clenched even when she’s not speaking. He doesn’t press. He never does. He sits, orders his own, keeps the conversation light. Weather. Work. Nothing that matters.
But she keeps drinking.
At some point she laughs too loudly, stands too quickly, sways just enough to give herself away. He reaches out, steadies her, and asks if she’s alright. She says she is. Of course she is.
She suggests a walk. Or a drive. Something about needing air, needing quiet. He doesn’t argue. He just follows.
They don’t say much after that.
Later, the barn doors are half open, light spilling out into the dark. Two figures enter. One comes out first. The other lingers before following. It’s enough to be seen. Enough to be misunderstood. Enough to sit wrong.
He sees it from a distance and stops short.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
By the time the sun starts to sink and the work slows, the weight of the day settles heavy on her shoulders. The drinks have worn off, leaving behind that familiar ache of regret and restless anxiety. She goes looking for him and finds space instead. Polite distance. Fewer words. No fight.
That’s when it hits her.
Not anger. Not accusation.
Avoidance.
The same thing she’s been doing to him.
She asks around without asking. Watch him move across the ranch like she isn’t pulling at him anymore. Notices how he doesn’t linger, doesn’t follow, doesn’t reach for her the way he always has.
It scares her more than any argument ever could.
She corners the wrong person first, voice sharp, eyes searching.
Did you say something to him?
The answer is simple. Honest.
No.
That’s worse.
Because then there’s no one else to blame.
Night falls, the ranch quieting down again. She finds him where she always does when the day is over. Not looking at her. Not turning away either. Just there.
She stops a few feet away.
You’re pulling back.
He doesn’t deny it.
You were doing the same.
The words aren’t sharp. They’re steady. Calm. That’s what breaks her.
I didn’t know how to stop, she says. And I didn’t know how to tell you why.
He finally looks at her then. Not angry. Not hurt. Just open.
You don’t have to tell me everything tonight.
That almost undoes her. Almost.
But she steps closer anyway.
I just need to know you’re still here.
He doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for her, pulls her in, presses his forehead to hers like he’s grounding them both.
I’m not going anywhere.
She exhales, the tension finally cracking. Not all the way. Not completely. But enough.
For tonight, it’s enough.
They stand there until the dark settles fully around them, the noise of the day finally gone. The truth can wait. The fear can wait.
The questions can wait.
For now, they choose each other again.
And that’s how the day ends.
The ranch settles into its usual quiet, the kind that carries weight when too much has gone unsaid. She stays pressed close to him a moment longer than necessary, as if memorizing the feel of him there, solid and real. Tomorrow will come whether she’s ready or not. And with it, the things she’s still afraid to name.
There's that uneasy shift Rip feels when Beth is in his arms lately. He's afraid to make it known because of the reaction he may receive if he brings it up so he brushes It off and just holds her a little tighter. She stirs just a bit and notices his eyes are on her at that moment.
He doesn’t say anything. He just watches her for a moment longer, committing the quiet to memory, the way her breathing evens out against his chest, the way being this close still feels like home even when something between them has shifted. Whatever it is, he can feel it sitting there, unspoken, heavy but contained. And for now, he lets it stay that way, choosing silence over pressure, closeness over answers.
Rips alarm buzzes, he unwraps his arm from around Beth's shoulders to silence it shifting to the edge of the bed. I have to get up and get ready for work.
It’s so early.
Yeah I know. We have to gather all the herd and prepare them for the move to Texas.
Hold on a minute.. Texas?
Yep. Your dad needs Lloyd and I to gather the herd of cattle and take them down south today. We're going to be gone for about a day or so for 2 days tops. We're just going to drop them off someone to intercept them and then we spend the night. I'll be back before you know it.
She watches him move through the room, routine and familiar, pulling on jeans, reaching for his shirt like this is just another morning. Texas shouldn’t feel that far, but it does. Not because of the miles — because of everything sitting between them unsaid. She nods like she understands, like a day or two won’t matter, like she isn’t already bracing for the quiet he’ll leave behind. Be careful, she says instead, the words chosen carefully, safely. He pauses just long enough to look back at her, something unreadable crossing his face before he nods. Always am. Then he’s gone, and the bed feels colder than it should.
She feels a tightening in her chest oh come on’ Beth she says to herself, you act like he's never done this before.
She shakes off that feeling and gets out of bed to get ready for work. She takes her time because it's really early she just can't seem to go back to sleep without him being by her side. She walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower so she can hop in and hop out and then head to work. There's nothing wrong with getting to work early; she needs a distraction from the swirling of thoughts going through her mind.
She stands under the spray longer than she needs to, letting the water drown out everything else. The sound fills the room, loud enough to quiet the questions she doesn’t want answers to yet. By the time she steps out, wrapped in a towel, her face is set, the familiar armor sliding back into place. Work will do what it always does — give her something solid to hold onto. And for now, that’s enough.
She pulls into her parking spot at the job. She notices that Jason's parking spot is empty. Where could he be? He's supposed to be here by now. We have a ton of work to do.
She grabs her briefcase and purse and has to go to the elevator to go upstairs to the left lobby. The receptionist at the concierge desk gives Beth her messages and mail. Beth grabs her messages and mail and then heads to the elevator to go upstairs to her office.
She's a few feet away from the door when she reaches for her phone to call Jason.
Hello Jason, are you on your way in?
Yes boss, I just rounded the corner, heading into the parking lot now.
Okay we got a board meeting in twenty minutes so you need to put a pep in your step.
She barely makes it to her office before the day swallows her whole. Calls stack up, files land on her desk, voices bleed together as the clock starts moving faster than it should. By the time Jason slips into the room with an apologetic look and a stack of folders under his arm, the meeting is already pressing at the edges. Beth doesn’t miss a beat. She takes the paperwork, fires off instructions, and straightens her jacket like nothing else exists. Whatever unease followed her this morning gets shoved aside. Right now, there’s no room for it — only numbers, decisions, and the illusion of control.
The board meeting was successful in that everything that was laid out was noted and accounted for. They met their first margin successfully. Beth dialing her daddy’s number. “We did it Daddy!” We got our first sale. Today turned out to be a very good day. I’m heading out for a well deserved spa day with my sister in law. Talk later.
She ends the call with a satisfied exhale, the kind that only comes after a win she fought hard for. The tension in her shoulders eases for the first time all day as she gathers her things and heads out, trading spreadsheets and conference rooms for quiet and steam. Monica is already waiting when she arrives, calm and steady as ever, offering a small smile that says she can tell Beth needs this more than she’s willing to admit. For a few hours, at least, Beth lets herself believe that today really was a good day.
Beth and Monica embrace outside the spa. You have no idea how much I needed this, Beth says with a sigh. Monica gives a soft nod.
Monica ushers Beth inside the locker room. Their robes and towels are sitting just inside the room. Their masseuses were waiting for them to arrive. The music was softly playing as their messages were felt and all the tension that was built up all week was released in just under an hour. The ladies enjoyed brunch and a couple of cocktails while they caught up with each other before heading back to reality of the real world that awaits them.
By the time they step back outside, the edge has dulled, replaced with that loose, floaty calm that makes everything feel manageable again. Beth breathes deeper, shoulders lighter, the knot in her chest loosened just enough to pretend it was never there. For a little while, she lets herself stay in that space — laughing at something Monica says, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon — telling herself that whatever waits beyond this moment can wait a little longer.
Beth hadn't laughed that much in a long long time Monica either for that matter. It felt so good for the two of them to finally have two minutes to themselves where they could just let loose. The evening had wind down a little too fast for them so much so that they had to wrap things up and head home. They finally reached their cars after leaving the massage parlor. They said goodbye and they departed in different directions.
Beth pulls into the driveway at the ranch and she notices her daddy's truck backed in as usual. Before she could even sit the bag and purse down on the couch John belts out her name; Beth darling, come see me in the dining room.
She exhales softly, already adjusting her shoulders, slipping back into work mode.
When she steps into the room, John is seated at the table with papers spread out in front of him—numbers, notes, a legal pad filled with his familiar handwriting. He looks up at her, that quiet mix of pride and concern written all over his face.
“I just got off the phone,” he says, tapping the edge of the pad. “The first sale went through clean. Faster than I expected.”
Beth’s lips curve into a small, satisfied smile. “Told you. Once it starts moving, it won’t stop.”
He studies her for a moment longer than necessary, as if reading past the confidence.
“You did good today,” he says finally. “Not just for the ranch. For us.”
She nods, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him, already reaching for the paperwork. “This is just the beginning, Daddy. We’re not scrambling anymore. We’re building.”
John leans back, folding his arms, watching her the way he always has—trusting her mind even when he worries about her heart. Outside, the ranch settles into evening, quiet and steady. Inside, the weight of decisions hangs in the air—but for once, it feels like progress instead of survival.
Sometimes the longest journey home isn't the miles on the road, but the distance left to bridge between two people in the same room.