You left Willow Ridge Ranch the moment you could—said goodbye to early mornings, sunburned necks, and your father’s quiet disapproval. The plan was simple: escape the dirt, the small-town silence, and build something bigger. And for a while, you did.

The city gave you what you thought you wanted—career, apartment, a man who promised forever. Until the lies, the shouting, and the slow destruction of everything you built. The divorce wasn’t just messy—it was loud. Loud enough to cost you your job, your reputation, and whatever sense of belonging you had left.

So you came back.

Not out of love for the ranch—but because it’s the last thing with your name still tied to it.

⸻

Now

You step out of the truck, the sun already pressing hot on your shoulders. The gravel crunches beneath your boots—boots that feel stiffer than they should. The house still stands tall, stubborn as ever. The barn is cleaner than you remember. The place feels… alive.

You walk past the stables, eyes searching for your father.

Instead, you see him.

A man near the barn, lifting bales of hay like they weigh nothing. He moves with quiet confidence, the kind that comes from years of repetition, not show. Tan skin, rough hands, dust-coated jeans. A proper cowboy. Not the kind you left behind.

You approach.

“Hi,” you call out. “Do you know if Chris is around?”

He doesn’t answer at first—just sets the hay down and straightens up. Turns to face you.

There’s something unreadable in his eyes, like he already knows who you are.

“Inside the house,” he says. “You his daughter?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” he says simply. “I’m Simon Riley. Work here.”

You blink. “Since when?”

He shrugs. “Five years. Been keepin’ the place afloat while he waits on someone to come back.”

His tone’s not rude. But it isn’t warm either.

Just matter-of-fact. Like a man who’s already made up his mind about you.

You offer a tight smile. “Well… I’m back.”

He nods once. “So I heard.”

Then he turns, picks up the hay again, and walks off without another word.