Page 54 of Broken Roads
Hailey shifts slightly beside me, her body angling toward mine. It loosens something inside me, making the next words easier to find.
"Sebastian was always different from me and Dad. More interested in books than cattle or horses." A half-smile tugs at my mouth despite the weight of the memories. "When we were kids, I'd be out fixing fences with Dad, and he'd hide inside the barn dissecting whatever dead thing he found in the field. Trying to understand how it worked."
The memory cuts deeper than it should after all these years. "Everyone knew he was meant for something beyond this ranch. Everyone except Dad, maybe. Or me." I shake my head. "He left without saying goodbye. Just packed his shit and disappeared before dawn. Left a note on the kitchen table."
Hailey's voice comes gently through the darkness. "You were angry."
"Fucking furious," I admit, the old rage flaring briefly before settling back into its familiar dull ache. "Not that he left—we all knew he would—but how he left. Like we meant nothing. Like all those years of family weren't worth a proper goodbye."
My fingers find a small notch in the wood beside my thigh, a mark I carved years ago with my pocket knife. "He calls Dad sometimes. Sends cards at Christmas. But he and I..." I trail off.
"You haven't spoken," she supplies.
I nod. "Not really. Not about anything that matters." I turn to look at her, already finding her eyes steady on mine. "He's a diagnostician now. Some big hospital in the city. Dr. Sebastian Walker, solving the cases no one else can figure out."
There's no bitterness in my voice, not anymore. Just a resigned acceptance of the gulf between us. "I'm proud of him," I admit, the words feeling strange on my tongue. "Even if he thinks I'm just the dumb brother who stayed behind to shovel shit and count cattle."
Hailey's hand moves like she might reach for mine, then stops, and returns to her lap. "I doubt that's what he thinks."
I shrug, unwilling to dwell on Sebastian any longer. "Maybe not. Point is, this place—" I gesture toward the bench, the overlook, "—became my thinking spot. Where I come when I need to figure shit out."
The stars are more visible now, the clouds continuing to part above us. In the dim light, I can see her profile more clearly, the delicate curve of her nose, the fullness of her lower lip. Beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
"After Sebastian left, it was just me and Dad running the place. I always thought I'd leave too, eventually. Had some half-formed dreams about college, maybe." I shake my head at my younger self's naivety. "Then Dad got sick. First bout of pneumonia that nearly killed him. I stayed to help, and just... never left."
I shift slightly, turning more toward her. "Then I met Claire. She was a photographer, came to the ranch for some magazine spread aboutauthentic Montana living." The memory carries less pain than it once did, smoothed by time into something I can touch without cutting myself. "She fell in love with the idea of ranch life. The romance of it. Then realized the reality was a lot of hard work, isolation, and me being too stubborn to change."
Hailey's eyes never leave my face, encouraging me to continue without saying a word.
"She wanted to move to Los Angeles. Said we could start over there, build a different life." My throat tightens around thewords. "I couldn't imagine leaving this place. Couldn't imagine being anything but what I am."
"And what's that?" Hailey asks, her voice gentle but probing.
"A rancher. A Walker. The guy who stays." I say it simply, without pride or apology. It's just facts, like the mountains or the sky above us. "So she left. And I stayed."
The silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable but weighted with revelation. Crickets chirp in the darkness beyond our small circle of light, and somewhere in the distance, an owl calls.
"Did you love her?" Hailey's question is soft but direct, cutting straight to the heart of things.
I consider my answer carefully, wanting to give her honesty, not just what's easy to say. "I thought I did." I meet her gaze fully. "But now I think if I'd really loved her, truly loved her, I would have found a way to go with her. Or found a compromise we could both live with."
My fingers drum lightly against the wooden bench, a nervous habit I rarely indulge. "Instead, I chose the ranch. Every time, I chose the ranch."
Hailey watches me with those perceptive eyes that seem to see straight through me. "And now?" she asks.
"Now I understand that love, real love, changes your priorities. Makes you reconsider what you thought was non-negotiable." The words feel raw coming out, exposing a part of myself I've kept guarded for years. "I know it's a lot. Telling you about Sebastian, about Claire. My family shit." I exhale slowly. "But I wanted to be honest with you."
"Why?"
I hold her gaze, fighting the urge to look away, to retreat to safer ground. "Because I want more than friendship from you, Hailey." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "And I figured after tonight, after I fucked up by following you tothat meeting, you deserve to know exactly who you'd be getting involved with."
The admission feels like stepping off a cliff without knowing what waits below. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat a war drum of vulnerability I've spent years avoiding.
"I'm not good at this," I continue, gesturing vaguely between us. "Sharing. Talking about feelings. Being vulnerable." A humorless laugh escapes me. "In case that wasn't fucking obvious already."
Her expression remains unreadable in the dim light, though I think I catch the ghost of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "And yet here you are," she says. "Doing exactly that."
"Here I am," I agree, spreading my hands in a gesture of surrender. "Completely out of my comfort zone. Because you..." I struggle to find the right words, ones that won't sound trite or insufficient. "You make me want to be more than the guy who just stays. More than the guy who doesn't change."
