The silence on the other end of the line was heavy, the kind of quiet that usually preceded a storm, but this time it felt more like a white flag. Blake had been my tether to the ranch since I'd left for campus, the one person who truly understood the grit it took to be a Sequoia.
"I'm happy for you, Cammy," he repeated, his voice sounding a little rougher than before. "I really am. You deserve someone who doesn't make you have to build a fortress just to feel safe."
"Thanks, Blake," I whispered, leaning my head against the cool glass of my bedroom window. "It means a lot. Especially coming from you."
"Get some sleep," he said, clearing his throat. "The ranch is waiting for you. And tell that fiancé of yours that if he doesn't treat you like the queen Cash said you were, he's going to have to answer to Axel and me."
I laughed, the sound bright in the quiet apartment. "I'll tell him. Goodnight, Blake."
"Night, Cammy."
I clicked the phone shut and crawled into bed, the familiar scent of my laundry detergent and the distant hum of the city a stark contrast to the crickets and wide-open sky I'd be seeing tomorrow. Two years. It felt like a lifetime since I'd stood in that treehouse or watched Colt and Cash disappear down the driveway.
The next morning, the sun hadn't even peaked over the horizon when a familiar knock sounded at my door. I grabbed my overnight bag, said a quick goodbye to Gini, and headed down.
My fiancé was leaning against his truck, two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. He looked solid, dependable, and entirely mine. There was no "sharing," no possessive mind games, and no "poly" talk. Just a man who respected my boundaries and loved my stubbornness.
"Ready to go home, angel?" he asked, handing me my coffee and pulling me into a one-armed hug.
"More than ready," I said, climbing into the passenger seat.
The drive was a nostalgic blur of changing landscapes. As the pine trees gave way to the rolling scrub and red dirt of the Texas panhandle, my heart started to beat a little faster. We passed the cattle guard, the tires singing over the metal, and there it was—the Sequoia ranch.
I saw the "twin" colts first, now powerful young horses grazing in the front paddock, their coats shimmering in the midday sun. Then, I saw the porch.
Axel was there, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed, looking every bit the protective older brother. Beside him stood Grandpa, his weathered face breaking into a wide grin the moment he saw my truck.
But as we pulled into the gravel drive, my eyes snagged on two figures standing near the barn. They were taller, broader, and more seasoned than they had been two years ago, but the synchronized way they stood was unmistakable.
Cash and Colt.
I felt my fiancé's hand cover mine on the center console. "Everything okay?" he asked softly, noticing my sudden tension.
I looked at him, then back at the twins, and then at my brother. The battlefield was a memory, the truce had held, and I was coming back with the one thing I'd always wanted: a choice that was entirely my own.
"Yeah," I said, squeezing his hand. "Everything is exactly where it's supposed to be."