“Congratulations,” I said.
I walked out without crying. That, more than anything, seemed to disappoint them.
Outside, the cold Wyoming wind hit hard. Beyond the parking lot stretched the land leading to Horizon Ranch—my ranch, though Ethan had started calling it “ours” after Claire entered his life.
I sat in my truck for a long moment, staring back at the church.
I remembered Ethan as a child, running through the fields. As a teenager, promising he would never sell his father’s land. And just weeks ago, asking why I kept certain documents locked away.
Now I understood why.
The next morning, he called.
“Mom, I need the ranch keys,” he said casually. “Claire and I are going there for photos. Her dad wants to take a look at the property.”
No apology. No regret.
Just the keys.
Something inside me settled into a calm I hadn’t felt before.
“You don’t own it,” I said quietly.
Silence.
Then a short laugh. “What?”
“You heard me.”
By mid-morning, he was at my door, knocking hard. Claire stood behind him in sunglasses, and her father waited by their car, watching like he already had everything figured out.
