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I squeeze hers back. “I could never give them enough. They were never going to stop taking every dime they could from me.” The fire pops. “And it’s never been enough.” My voice catches. “And when I would go home to visit, it’s not the same. It’s awkward and unpleasant.”

She looks at me. “What did your mom do when all this was happening?”

I smile sadly. “She made excuses and took his side.”

She sighs. “My mom used to do that, too. She and my dad fought all the time, and worse when she got sick. He blamed her for getting sick and dying. I remember when she was so sick, he would scream at her and call her lazy.”

I shake my head, and I close my eyes. “I don’t give them money anymore. It just feeds his addiction.”

“My dad used to do the same to us. He even tried after he was in prison, but none of us talk to him anymore. I think Weston has seen him on occasion because he needed him to sign things as the ranch attorney.”

I let out a shaky breath. “When they realized I wasn’t going to give them any more money, I stopped being welcome.”

Jenna squeezes my hand. “That’s awful, Ty. I’m so sorry.”

I know she knows what it’s like to have a dad who doesn’t give a shit about your legacy. And who doesn’t care about his family. Only his own greed. We both have more in common than we realized.

I look over at Jenna and say, “I think that’s the first Christmas I’ve ever enjoyed since it all happened.”

Jenna listens, and smiles.

“I had enough money a few years ago to buy our old ranch back.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Did you do it?”

I shook my head. “I decided I didn’t want it anymore.”

Surprise flickers across her face. “Why not?”

I shake my head sadly. “Because it came with memories I didn’t want. And I know my parents would try to ruin that for me, too.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “I hate that they ruined your dream for you.”

I shrug. “So, I let it go. I don’t miss the land. I just miss ranching. And I realize I can do that somewhere else.”

She watches me. “I get that. I tried to find a new life somewhere else, too.”

“How did that go?” I ask.

“Not so great,” she admits. “It’s pretty lonely out there in L.A.”

She scoots closer until our knees touch. “I know what that’s like.”

She stares into the fire now. “I’m good at producing everyone else’s happy stories.”

“What about you? What did you dream about?”

“Getting out of Bridger Falls. Far from the bad memories. But now that I’m back here...things have changed. And it’s different now. It’s not so bad.” She then says quietly, “I don’t know who I am without work. I don’t know what comes next.”

I smile. “So, we’re both a mess.”

She laughs. “Pretty much.”

“You know...” I hesitate.

“What?”

“Maybe the lesson for both of us is that there’s more to life than work, and we needed each other this Christmas to figure that out.” I shake my head. “When I’m on a horse and working cattle, it’s like my soul is settled. That’s where my happiness is.”