Page 159 of Josephine and Clay

“You’ve got people here too.”

“People here don’t need me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah?” I look at him then. “Ranch runs fine. Your family’s fine. Dallas keeps the paperwork straight. Nash has his dude ranch. Mom has all of you hovering around. What exactly am I needed for?”

Boone holds my gaze. “Being needed isn’t always about chores.”

My throat gets tight in a way I don’t like. So I look away. “Sounds like something from one of Rose’s inspirational classroom posters.”

“She’d make it look nice.”

Despite myself, emotion almost shifts in my chest. The thought claws back before I can stop it.

Dad’s handwriting.

That account.

Years of money sitting there waiting for me like everybody already knew how this story ended.

I look at Boone before I can talk myself out of it. “You ever know Dad was setting money aside?”

Boone’s brow furrows. “What?”

“That account.” My grip tightens on the crutch. “The one in my name.”

Boone exhales slowly. “Mom should’ve talked to you about that.”

It isn’t surprise on Boone’s face.

It’s something quieter. Heavier.

Resignation.

Like this has always made sense.

I laugh once under my breath, meaner than I intend. “Yeah. Figured.”

“Clay—”

“It’s fine.”

Because what else am I supposed to say? Thanks for planning ahead in case I turned out exactly like this?

“I need air.”

“We’re in a barn.”

“Different air.”

Boone sighs. “Clay⁠—”

“I’m not asking permission.”

“No,” he says quietly. “You never do.”

I don’t answer. Just limp out before the barn starts becoming a room with no doors.