Page 107 of Tessa and Nash

And with what we found.

And with the fact that “later” isn’t a safe place to put hard things anymore.

“Tessa,” I say, quietly.

She doesn’t look at me.

I step closer anyway, stopping just behind her shoulder.

“I’m not your enemy,” I say.

Her laugh is small and bitter. “That’s not what my family would say.”

“Forget your family for one second,” I whisper. “Forget mine. Look at me.”

She goes still.

Slowly, she turns her head.

Her eyes meet mine, and it seems to be a dare.

I don’t blink.

“I’m right here,” I say. “And I’m scared too.”

That does it.

Her expression shifts, just a fraction, but it’s enough to see the crack.

“What are you scared of?”

I swallow hard.

Because the answer isn’t simple.

It’s not snow or phone signal… even Thomas Long.

It’s the thing that’s been sitting in my chest since I was old enough to understand my brothers’ shoulders were bigger than mine, and their decisions carried weight while mine carried jokes.

“I’m scared,” I admit, “that I’m going to screw this up.”

Tessa’s brow furrows. “The ranch?”

“Everything.”

Tessa stares at me. She didn’t expect that.

She probably expected me to say the practical thing.

The land.

The cabins.

The permits.

But the truth is, it’s all tangled together now.

The ranch is my family’s heart.