Page 113 of Shattered Melodies

“That’s not a bad idea,” Hank said, stroking his beard. “Could bring in a decent chunk of change if we do it right.”

“Exactly,” Caleb chimed in, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “And I was thinking we could make it even bigger. What if we had some local talent perform?”

“Like who?” Mike asked, sounding skeptical. “Not like we can afford to bring in anyone famous.”

Caleb’s eyes met mine, and I saw a glimmer of something there. Then, to my surprise, he said, “Well, I could sing.”

“You can sing, boss?” Dean asked, voicing everyone’s surprise.

Caleb shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. “Used to, back in high school. Haven’t done it in a while, but for the ranch? I’d dust off the old pipes.”

I watched as the ideas flew around the room, each suggestion more exciting than the last. But something was nagging at me, a feeling that we were missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I knew there was more we could do to really put this ranch on the map.

“What about a petting zoo?” Dean suggested, his eyes lighting up. “Kids love that stuff.”

“Ooh, and we could do hayrides!” Mike chimed in, practically bouncing in his seat.

I nodded along, trying to look enthusiastic, but my mind was racing. These were all great ideas, but they weren’t enough. We needed something big, something that would draw people from all over, not just the locals.

Just as I opened my mouth to voice my thoughts, a commotion erupted outside. Shouting voices carried through the thin walls of the office, and we all froze, exchanging confused glances.

“What the hell?” Hank muttered, rising from his chair.

Before any of us could move, the door burst open. One of the younger ranch hands - I think his name was Tommy - stumbled in, his eyes wide with panic.

“Boss!” he gasped, looking directly at Caleb. “There’s a bunch of reporters outside! Your dad’s trying to argue with them, but they’re not backing down.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. Reporters? Here? Oh god, had they found me? How? I felt the familiar tendrils of panic start to creep up my spine, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Caleb’s eyes met mine, and I saw the concern there. He knew what this could mean for me, for us. Without hesitation, he stood up, his voice steady as he addressed the room.

“Alright, everyone stay calm. I’ll handle this,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. Then, softer, just for me: “Liam, stay here, okay? I’ve got this.”

I wanted to protest. The urge to run, to hide, to do something was almost overwhelming. But I forced myself to nod, knowing that Caleb was right. Me showing my face would only make things worse.

“Be careful,” I managed to croak out as Caleb headed for the door.

I paced the empty meeting room, my fists clenched at my sides. The others had rushed out with Caleb to deal with the media circus outside, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And right now, those thoughts were far from pleasant.

“Goddamn vultures,” I muttered, kicking at a chair. It skidded across the floor with a satisfying screech. “How the hell did they find out I was here?”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I yanked it out, half-expecting to see a flood of notifications. Instead, it was a message from Jimmy.

“Heads up. Word’s out that Corey King might be in Oakwood. Don’t know who leaked it, but it’s spreading fast.”

“Fuck!” I shouted, hurling my phone onto the couch. It bounced harmlessly, which only irritated me more. I wanted something to break, something to show the physical manifestation of my anger.

I stalked over to the window, peering out at the crowd gathered near the ranch entrance. I could see Caleb’s dad, red-faced and gesticulating wildly at a group of reporters. Caleb stood nearby, his stance solid and calm, a stark contrast to his father’s agitation.

“I swear to God,” I growled, “when I find out who leaked this, I will feed them to Martha.”

I turned away from the window, running my hands through my hair in frustration. My eyes landed on the whiteboard where we’d been brainstorming fundraiser ideas just minutes ago. It all seemed so trivial now.

I grabbing my phone again. No new messages from Jimmy, but there were a dozen notifications from various news outlets. All of them asking the same question.

“Well,” I said to the empty room, a bitter laugh escaping me, “guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

I typed out a quick message to Jimmy. “What’s our next move?”

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