Chapter 71 Decisions
Sierra wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, the dampness smearing the dust on her skin. The phone buzzed again, Julian Rossi illuminated in crisp white letters against the dark screen. She stared at it, breath uneven, the echo of Ryder’s departure still ringing in her ears. The wind outside had picked up, rattling the loose shutter on the west-facing window. A storm was coming, just as Ryder had said.
She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear with a trembling hand.
“Sierra?” His voice was smooth, measured, like silk stretched taut over steel. “You’re crying.”
It wasn’t a question. Julian didn’t do small talk. He cut through noise like a scalpel.
She tried to steady her breath, to pull the grief behind a mask. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”
“You’re not fine,” he said, softer now. “I can hear it. Your voice cracks when you’re holding something back. Always has.”
She closed her eyes. Julian knew her well, too well in such a short time. He knew her in all the places that didn’t matter most. He knew the way she tapped her pen when she was stressed, how she caressed the left side of her neck when she was thinking. But he didn’t know the weight of red dirt beneath boots, or how the aroma of sagebrush after a rain could make her heart ache for a life half-remembered.
“It’s been a long day,” she whispered. “Dad’s ledger… Cody’s still grieving and trying to find his footing… the feed budget’s a mess. And—” Her voice broke. “And this place… is slipping. Sterling needs me in Manhattan in three days to close a multi-million dollar account. I don’t know if I can hold it together.”
Silence on the other end. She could almost picture him, standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass of his Dubai penthouse, the skyline glittering below, a tumbler of twenty-year-old Scotch in hand. Untouchable. Unbothered. In control.
And yet, when he spoke again, his voice held something rare, concern that wasn’t performative.
“Sell it, Sierra.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Let me buy the ranch. The whole thing. No strings. I’ll bring in a management team, keep it operational, and preserve the name. Cody can stay on as a figurehead if he wants. Or retire comfortably. You don’t have to carry this burden.”
Her chest tightened. “It’s not a burden. It was his life.”
“It’s debt and dust,” Julian countered, gentle but firm. “Your father loved that land, I get that. But he’s gone. And you… you’re not built for this. You’re built for boardrooms, for closing million-dollar deals, for walking into a room and owning it before you say a word. Not for feed calculations and broken fences.”
She pressed her palm flat against the kitchen table, grounding herself. “You don’t understand. Sage Ranch isn’t just property. It’s… it’s where I learned how to ride my first horse. Where my mother used to take me out riding in the sage after sunset. Where Cody buried them both. Where—” She stopped, the memory catching like a thorn, where Ryder held me after the fire had nearly burned it all up, and the night she had let herself grieve beside him.
But she didn’t mention the last part or say the name on her lips.
Julian exhaled. “I don’t have to understand it,” he said quietly. “But I understand you. And I know you’re torn. I see it every time we’re together, pretending you’re okay. You don’t have to choose between honor and survival. Let me shoulder the weight. You come back. Aldridge is waiting. Sterling’s hand-picked you to close it.”
William. The thought of him, frail but insistent, waiting for her in Manhattan, pulled at her loyalties. He’d trusted her with the firm. He’d believed in her, even when she doubted herself. Leaving now, when they were on the cusp of a career-defining deal, felt like betrayal.
Still, she hesitated.
“I can’t just sell it, Julian. Dad would never…”
“He’s not here anymore, Sierra,” Julian said, not unkindly. “And you are. You’re alive. You have a life to live. You don’t owe the ghost of a man anything more than memory.”
They were harsh words. True, perhaps, but they cut deep.
Outside, thunder growled across the mesas, low and ominous. The lights flickered once, twice, then held.
She thought of Ryder’s hands, calloused from work, passing her the coffee mug. The way his eyes had lingered on hers, not with anger, but with sorrow. He hadn’t blamed her. He’d seen her, the girl who left, the woman who returned, the one who couldn’t decide where she belonged.
“You don’t belong on a drought-stricken ranch, Sierra,” Julian said, the words softening as if he sensed her wavering. “Let me send the jet. Be in Kingman by tomorrow morning. You can return to the ranch after you close Aldridge. Reassess. Make the call then.”
It wasn’t an ultimatum. It was an exit ramp.
And God help her, she wanted to take it.
“I need to talk to Cody,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course. But don’t wait. The longer you stay, the harder it gets to leave.”
She disconnected the call slowly, the silence rushing in like a tide. The ledger still sat open, numbers bleeding into one another. She walked to the window, peering out into the darkening yard. The storm had arrived, sheets of rain sweeping across the field, turning the red earth into a soup.
She thought of her father’s boots on the porch outside the screen door, still there, still waiting. Of Cody, trying so hard to be the man their father raised him to be. Of Ryder, who had loved her enough to let her go.
And Julian, who loved her enough to pull her back.
She pulled her phone close again, typed a quick message to Chloe: Prep the Aldridge files. I’m coming in. Be ready to brief me in the morning.
Then she called her brother.
“Cody,” she said when he answered, “we need to talk.”
Twenty minutes later, she stood on the porch, watching as he stomped up the path, hoodie pulled low, hands shoved in his pockets.
“You okay?” he asked.
She looked at him, really looked. His shoulders hadn’t yet squared again since Dad died. There were shadows under his eyes, but she also sensed a new kind of steadiness. He was trying. Hard.
“I have to go back to Manhattan,” she said. “Just for a few days.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay.” She sensed that he didn’t buy the idea that it would only be a few days.
“I’ll be back. I promise.”
“Are you selling?” His voice was quiet, but not angry. Just… resigned.
“No,” she said firmly. “Julian offered. And I… I didn’t say no.”
Cody studied her for a long moment. Then he exhaled. “Just don’t choose for me, Sierra. This is my home too.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know it is.”
He nodded again, then turned and walked back into the rain.
Alone, Sierra stepped inside, closed the door, and leaned against it. The house felt emptier than ever.
She had no idea how she was going to balance both of her worlds, but her decision had already been made. She would never sell Sage Ranch.
She texted Julian: I’ll take you up on the jet. Kingman at dawn.
He replied instantly: It’ll be waiting.
She went to her room, packed a single suitcase, work clothes, blazers, and heels that would click against the marble floors in Sterling, Quinn & Spencer. Her Ariats, Wranglers, and flannel shirts would stay in Arizona. She zipped it shut.
She collapsed onto the bed, listening to the rain on the roof. She could feel Ryder’s presence, the aroma of sage and leather, and she could hear his words, unbidden, sharp as barbed wire.
You’re trying to live in two different worlds and expecting each one to wait for you.
She closed her eyes.
She still wasn’t sure which world she wanted to come home to.