Page 82 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

"We gave you everything," my father growls. "The best schools, opportunities most people can only dream of?—"

"And I'm grateful for that," I interrupt. "But it doesn't give you the right to control my future. I'm not a child anymore. I get to choose my own path."

"And that path leads you away from your family?" my mother asks, her voice trembling. "Away from everything we've built?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next. "If that's what it takes, yes."

My father's face contorts with rage. "If you walk out that door, you're no longer my son. Do you understand? You'll be cut off. No more money, no more connections. Nothing."

"If that's how you want it, fine. But know this—I'd rather have nothing with Krystal than everything without her."

I turn to leave, but Noah's voice stops me. "Shane, wait."

I look back at my brother, seeing the conflict in his eyes. "What is it, Noah?"

He stands, squaring his shoulders. "I... I want to run the company. I've always wanted to. But not like this. Not with you cut off from the family."

"Noah," my father warns, but Noah presses on.

"No, Dad. This has gone on long enough. Shane's right. I can do this. I want to do this. But I won't be part of tearing this family apart."

Pride swells in my chest. "You'll be great, Noah. I know it. My decision stands. I'll get this contract, and then you're up, brother."

My father's face is a thundercloud. "This discussion isn't over. Shane, you need to think very carefully about your next move. There's still time to fix this, to come to your senses?—"

"My senses are just fine," I snap. "Now it's time for you to leave. I have an assignment to complete."

I walk my family to the door, their disapproval hanging heavy in the air. As soon as they're out, I lock it and lean against the solid wood, exhaling slowly. The weight of what just happened settles on my shoulders.

My feet carry me to my office almost on autopilot. I need space to think, to process. The room feels too small, too confining. I loosen my tie, tossing it onto the desk.

What have I done?

I've just told my family—the people who raised me and gave me every opportunity—that I'm walking away from it all. ForKrystal, for Ashanti, for a life I'm not even sure I know how to live.

My gaze falls on a photo of Krystal and Ashanti, their smiles bright and carefree. Something in my chest tightens. They're worth it. They have to be.

But doubt creeps in, insidious and familiar. What if I'm not cut out for this? What if I'm throwing away everything for a dream that'll crumble the moment real life sets in?

I pour myself a whiskey, the amber liquid a poor substitute for the comfort I crave. Krystal's upstairs, probably wondering what the hell just happened. I should go to her and explain. But the words stick in my throat.

How do I tell her I've just upended my entire life for her? That I'm terrified and exhilarated all at once?

I glance over at my laptop, which sits open on the desk. The search results for Montana ranches are still visible on the screen. I raise my glass, swirling the amber liquid, and imagine Krystal and Ashanti on one of those Montana ranches.

A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. "Come in," I call out, expecting it to be Krystal or maybe Noah.

Instead, Ashanti's small figure appears in the doorway, her face streaked with tears. My heart clenches at the sight.

"Ashanti? What's wrong, sweetheart?" I ask, immediately moving toward her.

She runs into my arms, her small body shaking with sobs. I lift her up, cradling her against my chest as I move to sit on the leather couch in the corner of the office.

"Shh, it's okay," I murmur, stroking her hair. "I've got you. What happened, baby girl?"

Ashanti hiccups, trying to catch her breath. "It's... it's Mom," she manages between sobs. "She... she wants to leave."

My world stops. I struggle to keep my voice steady as I ask, "Leave? What do you mean, sweetheart?"

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