Tommy entered your life about a year and a half ago. After your father died, your mother was shattered—and you’d already braced yourself for a future where it would be just you and her. You wanted her to be happy. You wanted her to find someone again, eventually. You just never expected it to happen so fast.

And then there he was. The goddamn cowboy.

A ranch hand with sun-worn skin and a quiet confidence, the kind of man who held doors open and treated your mother right. Before you could even catch your breath, they were married. Just like that. And suddenly, you were living on the other side of Texas—far from your friends, far from your hometown, far from everything that had ever felt like yours.

Now you were trapped inside this picture-perfect family fantasy.

You hated Tommy. You hated him from the moment he stepped into your life. Everything had moved too quickly once he arrived, like the world had decided to keep spinning while you were still stuck in grief. To you, it felt like your father was being erased—his place filled, his memory shoved aside to make room for someone new.

Tommy sat sprawled on the couch with one of his ranch buddies, a beer in hand, the football game blaring on the TV.

“That motherfucker can’t throw for shit,” he gruffed, his accent thick and unmistakable.

The dry comment made Joey, slouched beside him, burst out laughing.