Page 65 of Untruly With You

My throat constricts as I look between Hank and Wells. My father’s words reverberate through my mind.Our legacy is in your blood.I suddenly realize the true meaning of that. He wasn't just talking about the ranch. He was talking about our family, about the burden he can’t bear alone.

My voice breaks as I promise, “There has to be something you can do. Maybe a clinical trial or—”

“Sutton,” my father says, cutting me off, “I’m not going to spend the last of my time on this earth in a hospital. I won’t do it. I’ll go to my checkups. I’ll do my physical therapy. If it gets bad enough, I’ll pay a nurse to help me around the house. But I’m spending as much time as I can on this ranch. With my family.” The resolute stubbornness in Hank’s gaze is as solid as ever.

Adrenaline, still slick and hot in my veins, surges through me. They kept this from me. My family has been suffering in silence while they kept me in the dark, outrageously oblivious, outrageously self-absorbed.

A bitter taste fills my mouth, tasting far worse than the blood, and I feel the pounding of anger—no, defeat—risingwithin me. I step away, raking a hand through my soaked hair. “How could you not tell me?” I continue, my voice shaking with frustration. “I could have been here. I could have helped.”

Wells, still as amped up as I am, laughs sharply. “Right. Like how you were so helpful after Duke died.”

His words hit me in my gut, more painful than any of his punches.

“Wells,” our father says, his monosyllabic warning enough.

The anger inside me flares again, and I grumble back at Wells, “Don't bring Duke into this. I was already a year into NYU when he died. You think I should have just abandoned that to come back?” I flex my hands as if I can force my frustration out through my fingertips. “I’ve spent years trying to build a life for myself, to find my true place.”

Wells' gaze is harsh and unforgiving. “I changedmyplans. I was going to go to college too, you know. But I knew I had to be here for Frankie, for Mom and Dad. I was only sixteen, and I knew I would stay for them. Taking on Duke's responsibilities, working hard, I never once considered leaving this family.”

“How was I supposed to come back? I came home to find you sleeping withmygirlfriend in mytruck,” I snap, scrambling for anything that can even out the argument I know I’m losing.

“You left because I bruised your ego?” Wells’ loud, biting words bounce off the mountains.

“You know that wasn’t the only reason I left. I was never meant to stay at Silver Ridge.”

Wells paces in tight circles. “Don’t give me thatbullshit. You were raised on this ranch same as me. You learned to rope, to ride, to rodeo. From the time you were born—fromthe time we all were born—we knew this place would be a part of us. You just chose to shut that part of yourself out.”

“Fine!” I throw my arms into the air, spiraling further out of control. “Maybe I did. But I couldn’t be here, couldn’t bear to look at this place. And it wasn’t just about school, or Cassidy, or my dreams. Really, it was about how all I could think about when I was here wasDuke. Everywhere I looked, there was another reminder that he was gone. His room, his boots still at the door, his stupid horse! It was like losing him over and over, day after day.”

“Coward,” Wells hisses.

Hank tries to mediate, his voice anything but gentle. “Enough, both of you. What’s done is done.”

It feels like someone has hollowed me out. I sag to the ground, guilt dampening the fire that was roaring within me. For a few minutes, we sit in silence while I grapple with all this new information. No matter how I look at it, though, there’s only one way forward.

“Wells is right,” I eventually say. “I was being a coward. I couldn’t face the loss of Duke. Maybe I still haven’t.” I pause, trying to fight my way through the mental static in my ears. “I should have been here. But this time, it’ll be different. I'll stay. I'll be here for the family.”

Hank’s expression doesn’t soften. “I don’t want you to resent the ranch. I don’t want you to come back and be miserable and angry.”

“I was miserable knowing that I missed out on the last year of Duke’s life,” I say. “I’m not making that mistake again with you.Thatwould be misery.”

Wells' ever-furrowed brows lift with a mixture of tentative relief and surprise. Hank nods, just once, in approval.

“What about Laine?” Wells asks, still unconvinced that I’ll actually stay this time.

I try to set my jaw the same way Hank does. “What about her?”

It takeshours for the lightning to let up and the rain to slow enough for us to make the trek back to the house. Below me, Duke’s horse is still skittish from the weather, and his hooves slide around a bit in the thick mud. I’ll have to work more with him from now on.

From now on.

Even though the storm has subsided, there is still one stirring within me. In my mind, the life I thought I was working toward has shattered. I cling to the pieces, trying to make a new, complete picture. But it’s no use. I know what I have to do. Beyond that, I know what that means I can no longer have.

No New York.

No becoming an editor.

Noher.

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