Dolly had busied herself in the kitchen, making dinner while Nash and I sat in front of the TV. We’d settled onTop Gun: Maverick, a solid choice. I had to give the kid credit—he had good taste in movies.

As the movie played, I could feel Nash’s eyes darting my way every so often. He wasn’t sure what to say, and hell, I wasn’t either. It was hard trying to connect with someone who was practically a stranger, even if we shared the same blood.

“Have you ever flown in an airplane?” Nash asked, breaking the silence.

I nodded. “A few times, yeah. Most of the time, I drove from rodeo to rodeo, though.”

Nash’s brow furrowed, like he was trying to imagine that kind of life. “Have you been to all of the states?”

I shrugged. “Probably driven through most of them, but I haven’t been to Alaska or Hawaii.”

“Me neither,” he sighed. “Mom’s always busy with the store. She says we can’t take a vacation.”

That hit me harder than I expected. Dolly had always been tied to that store, just like her family before her. Maybe that was part of the reason she broke up with me all those years ago. How could she have followed me around the country when she was bound to Magnolia Grove, tethered to that grocery store?

“Your mom’s a hard worker,” I said. “Owning the grocery store, running it the way she does—it’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Yeah,” Nash agreed, but there was a bitterness in his voice. “Still, it’d be nice to go on vacation at least once.”

I leaned back, watching him as he stared at the TV but didn’t seem to be really seeing it. “Maybe we can make that happen,” I said.

He glanced at me, skepticism plain in his eyes. “Sure.”

Before I could say more, Dolly walked into the living room with two plates in her hands. “I made burgers and fries,” she announced, setting one plate down in front of Nash on the coffee table. He didn’t say anything, just stared at it. She handed me my plate next.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Dolly smiled, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m going to clean up and lie down for a bit,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

She lingered for a second like she was about to say more, but then she turned and headed back into the kitchen. The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving just me and Nash again. I looked down at the burger in front of me—it looked pretty damn good, but Nash hadn’t touched his plate.

“You not hungry?” I asked.

Nash pushed the plate away with a huff. “Not for anything my mom wants to give me.”

I glanced back at the kitchen, then down at my own plate. The food looked delicious, but I knew it wasn’t the food that was the problem. Dolly could’ve served up the best meal in the world, and it wouldn’t have made a difference to Nash right now.

I popped a fry into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You wanna talk about it?”

Nash stared straight ahead with his arms crossed over his chest. “She always told me lying was bad. Said it was wrong. But she lied to me. My whole life.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “Yeah, she did.” I wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for him. He had every right to feelangry, confused, all of it. I couldn’t change what had happened, but I wasn’t about to dismiss his feelings either.

“I’m mad,” Nash said, his voice tight with emotion.

“So am I,” I admitted. We sat there, the silence between us heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence where you didn’t need to fill it with empty words. We both knew how the other felt—betrayed, hurt, maybe even a little lost.

Nash shifted in his seat, sitting back against the couch and folding his arms tighter. “Why didn’t she tell you? I mean... you would’ve wanted to know, right?”

I let out a long breath. “Yeah, I would’ve. I didn’t know about you, Nash. Not until yesterday. Your mom made the decision to keep it to herself.”

“She said it was because you were gonna be some big rodeo star,” Nash muttered, his tone flat. “That doesn’t make sense. You could’ve still been around, right?”

He had no idea how much that hit home for me. I’d been thinking about it over and over—what could’ve been. “I could’ve figured something out. It wasn’t her decision to make, though. I should’ve had a say.”

Nash’s face twisted with frustration. “So, she just... decided for both of us?”