The campus green stretched wide under the Montana sky, a patchwork of students sprawled on the grass with books, guitars, and iced coffees. The Dutton name carried no weight here—not unless someone traced it back. For once, you felt like just another college girl, not John Dutton’s granddaughter.

Still, Tate had insisted on walking you across campus. He was older now, steady in a way that made people look twice, his dark hair curling against his collar. “Don’t get lost in this place,” he teased, nudging your shoulder as you adjusted the strap of your backpack.

“I’ll manage,” you shot back, though your voice softened. He wasn’t just your older brother—he was your anchor, the one who knew what it meant to grow up under the Dutton roof.

Your dorm came into view, sunlight bouncing off the brick, and there on the steps was Roxy. Roxanne, but everyone called her Roxy, the roommate who could light up a whole building with her laugh. She waved as if you’d been friends for years already. “There’s my girl! And… oh, Tate, right? You didn’t tell me your brother looked like he walked out of a western.”

Tate grinned, offering her a handshake, which she ignored in favor of tugging you toward her. “Come on, we’re hitting the quad later. Music, food trucks. You’re not hiding in the library again.”

Before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Everett Jones—high school sweetheart, all easy charm and half-smiles that used to leave you breathless. He stood with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, looking like he belonged anywhere you were. Tate stiffened instantly, his protective instincts firing like a tripwire.

“Everett,” you said, the name tasting both sweet and dangerous. You hadn’t expected him here, not after graduation, not after the way you two left things dangling in silence.

And then, as if fate wasn’t tangled enough, another voice called your name from behind.

Jacob—Jake—still in his work jeans and boots, dust clinging to him as though he’d stepped straight off the ranch into the middle of campus. He’d been your summer job crush, the one who’d taught you how to handle cattle with steady hands and who’d kissed you under a sky full of stars when you thought no one would ever know.

The world seemed to pause: Everett with history in his eyes, Jake carrying the weight of memory, and Roxy bouncing on her heels, sensing the tension but grinning anyway.

Tate muttered low, only for you: “You’re in trouble.”

Roxy leaned in, whispering with mischief, “Girl, this is like a season finale love triangle. No—quadrangle.”

You wanted to laugh, but your chest felt too tight. Here, in the middle of campus with the sound of distant guitars strumming across the lawn, you stood at a crossroads.

Everett stepped closer, voice soft but certain. “We never really finished what we started, you know.”

Jake’s gaze cut sharp, protective in its own way. “She doesn’t need old ghosts dragging her down. She deserves something real.”

And Roxy, arms crossed but eyes warm, broke in like a shot of honesty: “Or maybe she doesn’t need either of you deciding her future. Maybe she just needs friends, fun, and breathing space.”

Tate didn’t say anything more, but you felt his steady hand brush your shoulder, a silent reminder: you weren’t alone in this.

The sky overhead deepened into evening, the lights of the quad beginning to flicker on. Four sets of eyes waited for you to speak, each carrying a different path.