Page 18 of Run to Me
Coffee cups, half-empty, leave rings on the paper, small reminders of how long I’ve been at this. “I don’t know what I was thinking, starting all this by myself. It’s too much.”
Serena’s smile is immediate. “Olivia, if anyone can do this, it’s you. We’ll break it down. Make a plan. I’ve seen you pull off things twice this size and make it look easy.”
Her faith in me is a comfort I don’t quite know how to accept. I want to believe her, but the enormity of the task looms large in my mind, a shadow that’s hard to shake. “I just—” I pause, searching for words that won’t betray how deeply I’m feeling this, “—I just need to know I’m not crazy for trying.”
Serena laughs, the sound bright and infectious. “Crazy? Maybe. But that’s why it’s going to work.”
Each sheet of paper is a potential reality, each scribbled note a possible path. There’s too much here, too many directions to go. But maybe, if I let Serena help, there’s also a way through.
She is already marking notes, her pencil moving with the surety of someone who believes in what we’re doing. “How about this section here?” she asks, pointing. “We could start with something smaller, maybe work on this first.”
The suggestion is practical, a reminder that I don’t have to conquer everything at once. I nod, the gesture feeling like a small surrender and a huge relief. “Yes, okay. One thing at a time.”
Serena’s pencil continues to move, drawing lines and arrows, filling the plans with possibilities. “Exactly. One step at a time. We’ll get there.”
I need a change of scenery. “I’m going to go to the Rusty Mug to get a coffee and nail down the timeline. Wanna come?”
Serena shakes her head. “I’ve still got errands to run.”
I leave the barn, jump in the truck and head into town.
The Rusty Mug Café holds its own against the afternoon heat, the coolness inside a gentle reprieve. I sit alone at a corner table, the iced coffee sweating beneath my grip. My attention drifts between fragments of other people’s stories and my own half-formed thoughts, but then I catch a sentence like a thorn: “I heard Olivia made sure Ace would back off the auction—that’s how she got the ranch back.” Laughter floats above, leaving me to wonder whose voices have twisted the truth. My hand tightens around the cup as a waiter clears a nearby table, and I fix my gaze on the doorway.
My mind wanders over the plans and notes that clutter the table, a messy blueprint of what I want to build and the parts of me that threaten to get in the way. I try to focus, but my thoughts are as scattered as the sugar packets strewn across the tabletop.
The conversations blend together, a comforting white noise that keeps me company in the absence of something more solid. I catch snippets here and there. They’re not mine, but I listen anyway.
I turn the cup in my hands, watching the condensation trace rivulets across the ceramic, my mind tracing similar paths over the rumor that’s taken root. Ace. The ranch. The comment cuts deep, its accuracy a question I’m not sure I want to answer.
But what I want matters less than what’s at stake, and the stakes have never felt higher. I hold onto the thought like a lifeline, letting it pull me back from the undertow of doubt. The coffee grows tepid, the ice melting into a pale echo of its former self, and I set it down.
I wait, because there’s nothing else to do. The door, the voices, the empty chair across from me—each holds the potential to shift everything once again.
Is that really what the town thinks?
ACE
My father comes out to the barn and starts yelling. “What is this I hear about you dating the Grant girl? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
I drop what I’m doing and turn to face him. “That’s none of your business. Your war with her father has nothing to do with us.”
“It has everything to do with you. She got into your head and it worked. Now, she has the ranch and you have nothing.”
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that he’s my father, before I let my anger completely take over. “First of all, I have what I need, no thanks to you. I’m done. You treat me like a second rate employee, instead of your son. Go find someone else to work for you.”
He raises his voice. “Don’t you dare leave. You’re a Montgomery. This is your land.”
“Not anymore. If I have to be a jackass to everyone to gain your respect, then I don’t want it.”
I go straight to my house on the property, pack my bags, and leave before he can approach me again. Once off the property, I pull over and call Gavin to see if I can stay at his place until I can get an apartment.
“Of course. I have two spare bedrooms, but I’m going to need details when you get here.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be there in ten.”
Things have been different since Olivia won the auction. She has opened my eyes to what my life can be, and I’m done letting my father call the shots. Montgomery name or not, he can find someone else to work the ranch.
I pull up to Gavin’s, grab my suitcase, and walk inside. “Hey, sorry for the late notice.”
