Page 12 of Ghosted Cowboy
Either way, I was in serious trouble.
The kind of trouble that ended with me either getting my heart broken again or completely consumed by the man who'd once been my everything.
And standing there, surrounded by shadows and smoke and the ghosts of who we used to be, I wasn't entirely sure which outcome scared me more.
Chapter Four
Ransom
Aiden's truck came rolling up the drive just as I finished mucking out the last stall, dust rising behind the tires in the golden afternoon light.
I straightened, pitchfork in hand, watching my younger brother climb out of the cab. He looked better than he had in years—solid muscle on his frame, color in his face, that clarity in his eyes I'd thought might be gone forever. He wore a Carhartt jacket and that old Astros cap from high school.
"You gonna stand there gawking, or you gonna say hello?" He grinned, flashing that familiar Hollis charm.
"Thought you were working a rig shift." I set the pitchfork against the barn wall and pulled off my work gloves. My shirt stuck to my back, but the air had real bite to it—first cold front of the season had pushed through overnight, bringing actual autumn weather after months of misery. In the distance, oil derricks pumped their steady rhythm against a gray October sky.
"Got a few days off." His expression turned serious as he glanced toward the house. Through the window, I could see Mom moving around the kitchen, probably starting dinner. "Figured it was time."
The way he said it made my gut clench. "Time for what?"
He walked over to lean against the barn door, staring out at the pasture where our horses grazed in the lengtheningshadows. "To come clean. With Mom and Dad. About everything."
My throat went tight. Nearly a week I'd been home, and in that time I'd cataloged every way the ranch was failing—peeling paint, rusted equipment, bills stacked high on Mom's desk. But I'd also been carrying something heavier. The secret I'd kept for years. The reason I'd left Midnight Springs in the first place.
The reason I'd lost Rainey.
"You sure about this?" I asked.
"I'm sure." He nodded slowly. "I went to rehab, Ransom. Got my head straight, got right with God. Found a good church in Houston, steady work with guys who hold me accountable. I'm not that scared kid anymore—the one who made stupid choices and nearly got himself killed."
Pride swelled in my chest. "That's real good, Aiden. Real good."
"I want my story to help others," he continued. "People going down the wrong path, thinking it's too late to turn things around. It's never too late to want better. But it starts with honesty." He turned to face me. "You don't need to keep my secrets anymore. I'm telling Mom and Dad everything—the cartel connections, the witness protection, all of it."
The weight I'd been carrying suddenly lifted. "You're sure they're ready?"
"They're stronger than we think. And I owe them the truth." He clapped my shoulder, squeezed hard. "I owe you more than I can ever repay. You saved my life, big brother. You gave up everything—Rainey, your future here—to get me out."
"That's what brothers are for."
"Maybe. But not many would've done what you did." His eyes were suspiciously bright. "Thank you. For everything."
He headed toward the house, shoulders squared like a man walking into battle. I watched him go, then glanced at my phone. Nearly six. Rehearsal started at seven.
