You hadn’t planned to be here, standing at the edge of the Dutton ranch office with your stomach twisting like a coil of rope. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of horses, leather, and the kind of dust that clung to everything like memory. You had rehearsed what to say in the truck on the way over, over and over again, but now, facing the ranch house and the weight of what you had done, your words felt fragile and inadequate.

Rip was leaning against the doorframe, hands crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed—but there was a faint softness there, the kind of alert patience that always made you feel like you couldn’t hide a thing from him. Beth Dutton, of course, was all sharp angles and sharper instincts. You felt like a mouse under a hawk’s gaze as she stepped closer, her boots clicking against the porch boards.

“Jamie’s kid,” Beth said, eyes flicking toward you before returning to Rip. There was no judgment yet, only recognition, like she was calculating the situation in pieces. “You’ve got my attention. What is it?”

You swallowed, hands fumbling at the hem of your jacket. “I… I need help,” you said finally, your voice small, though steady enough to carry the truth. “I’m… I’m pregnant. Ten weeks.”

Beth’s eyes went sharp immediately, scanning your face, noting the tremor in your hands, the tension in your jaw. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, but you felt the weight of her understanding pressing in.

Rip straightened, taking a slow step toward you. His voice was low and steady, grounding you. “You came to the right place,” he said. “But you need to tell us what kind of help you’re looking for.”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t… I just…” Your voice broke, and you cursed yourself for letting it happen in front of them. But Beth’s hand on her hip, her calculated tilt of her head, made you realize she wasn’t going to let you hide behind tears.

“You need options, or you need protection?” Beth asked, her tone sharp but not cruel. “Because those are two very different paths.”

Rip’s gaze softened slightly. “You’re family, kid. We don’t walk away from family. But you need to decide what you’re ready for. There’s a lot on the table, and none of it’s easy.”

You nodded, trying to take in the weight of it all. You could feel the pulse of the land beneath your boots, the ranch stretching in all directions, the quiet hum of animals and wind, and you realized that here, in this moment, you had choices—paths that would define not just your pregnancy, but your life.

Beth leaned closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ll fight for you, make sure nobody touches you or the baby if that’s what you want. But you need to tell me if that’s the fight you’re ready for. Or if there’s another way you want to handle this.”

Rip stepped closer on the other side, his presence solid and steady. “We can figure it out together, but we can’t do it if you don’t tell us what you want. No secrets. No running.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the cold wind whip through your hair. You could see the barn in the distance, hear the faint clop of hooves as the horses were moved for the evening. The ranch felt alive, protective, and somehow overwhelming all at once.

And in that moment, standing between Beth and Rip, you realized your options were branching before you: • Lean on Beth and Rip fully, letting them take charge and protect you while you figure out your next steps. • Try to handle it on your own, asking for only advice or minimal help, keeping your independence intact. • Consider telling your family first, like Jamie, and bring them into the decision-making, even if it complicates things. • Put the baby up for adoption, choosing a path where you don’t raise the child yourself but ensure it’s safe and cared for. • Head to a clinic, seeking medical guidance and support outside the ranch while deciding your next steps.