Page 1 of The Rogue

PROLOGUE

Three years ago

The sun hangs low, casting long shadows over the sprawling fields of Hideaway Ranch.

Myranch.

My home.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my calloused hands proof of the countless hours of work put into the land. A land I carved out of the wild seven years ago.

It was nothing but a stretch of earth when I first laid eyes on it.

A hidden treasure.

A future for my growing family.

Before I saw this place, I wanted to be a boxer like my father, Aiden Reeves. Travel, fight, and become a world champion.

But everything changed when Lilly told me she was pregnant. I didn’t want to leave either one of them for one moment.

As good a man as my father was to his wife and four boys, he was still absent for a good chunk of our upbringing because of his job.

I didn’t hate him for it. We were proud. He’d always look at me before he walked out of the house. A tiny wink reminding me to take care of my little brothers.

I always winked my promise back.

Until the day I didn’t.

The day he walked out after mom died. There was no fight. No championship to win. Nothing but his need to escape and grieve the only way he knew how. On the road. Where his boys couldn’t see him break down every time he thought of her, missed her, craved her.

I vowed to be better. Present. I was going to be a father to one hell of a little man, and I’d die before I missed one second of his life.

I proposed to Lilly—it was the right thing to do. Took every penny my mother left me in her will, bought this house and the land behind it.

Not a single regret.

That was years ago. A lot’s changed.

Lillychanged.

Dad came home for good, too. Got his act together. Not just with his family but with our community. After a hefty donation toward enhancements in our small town, he used what was left of his boxing fortune to buy Hideaway Springs Inn—the only hotel in town—and renovated it to be more than just a place to stay. But a place to bring people together. Starting with the lobby, which he turned into a bar open to the public, not just hotel guests.

It's where I’m headed now.

Sliding on my sunglasses, I raise the window and turn up the AC in my truck. Jackson—my six-year-old pride and joy—wiggles in the passenger’s seat.

I can’t help but smile at the kid’s boundless energy. Always looking for our next adventure.

That’s what I tell him in the summers. He’s on an adventure with Dad. Summer camp is boring. Swimming pools are contaminated. Arts and crafts are for winter.

All of which is a hell of a better reason than, “Well, son, you can’t go to summer camp because I don’t trust your mother not to come and pull you out of there outside her visitation days.”

My ex-wife barely gave motherhood a chance before she decided to playWhere’s Waldo, disappearing and reappearing like it was some game.

The private school he attends during the year is different. They know the drama with Lilly. They run a tight ship when it comes to releasing children.

Our one camp in town operates a little more…informally.

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