Page 87 of A Cowboy's Claim
Sydney went for the final round this time. “I love you, Declan Skye. And I refuse to stay silent anymore, which means I need to call my grandpa. Now.”
Declan made a face. “Now?
“Now,” she confirmed.
Declan didn’t say anything else, just gave her a nod and squeezed her hand once before shifting to help her sit up straighter.
Sydney adjusted the porch swing cushion behind her, reached for her phone, and opened the video call app.
Her fingers were steady. That surprised her.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Then Grandpa Nate’s face filled the screen.
“Well,” he said without preamble. “You look like hell.”
“Hello to you, too.” Sydney let her mouth fall into something resembling a smile. “It’s been a week.”
“I heard,” he said, voice cool. “Your grandmother told me. A fire. Property loss. Minor injuries. What you were doing risking your skills teaching ababysittingclass, I’ll never understand. It’s as if you go looking for chaos.”
“I didn’t find it,” she replied evenly. “It found me.”
“Still, I warned you when you moved to that place. Small towns are fine for children and the unmotivated, but they rarely contain anything a woman like you needs to thrive.”
Sydney tipped her head. “You might want to hold your judgment until I finish what I called to say.”
Grandpa Nate leaned back in his chair—leather, high-backed—the library behind him. She knew the whole aesthetic well. It was a room she’d studied in. Cried in. Learned Latin and anatomy and how to keep her face blank when it mattered.
“Well, go on then,” he demanded.
“I’m in love,” Sydney said plainly. “With Declan Skye. And I’m not willing to hide that anymore.”
There was no change in her grandfather’s expression. No intake of breath or furrowing of his brow.
“You’re aware of the conditions under which I fund your clinic.”
“I am.”
“And you’ve chosen to ignore them.”
“I’m choosing to reject them,” she corrected. “You’ve spent my entire adult life telling me what I’m allowed to do in exchange for support. But that support has strings attached that are wrapped so tight they’ve cut off my circulation. You made it clear that love, especially for a woman, is a distraction from greatness. That men like Declan are fine companions but not fit to anchor ambition.”
“He runs a ranch that rescues dogs,” Grandpa Nate sneered. “Yes, I know who he is.”
She ignored the fact that meant more interference and security than he’d ever admitted before. “Declan leads a community. He mentors men coming out of addiction, prison, and grief. He saved a twelve-year-old girl from a burning building yesterday. He’s good and strong and kind, and I’m not giving him up to keep your name on the donor list.”
Grandpa Nate’s mouth thinned. “You’d choose love over medicine?”
“I’m choosing both,” she said firmly. “I’m a doctor because I love people. And I love Declan because he reminds me why people are worth loving.”
Silence.
It stretched long enough that she felt Declan shift beside her, a quiet breath moving through his chest.
“If your response is to cut funding and punish me for not being the kind of woman you think I should be—fine. I’ll find another way.” Sydney dug deep for courage. “I’m done pretending that the version of me you approve of is the real me.”
He blinked once. “So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
