31. Bishop

Even though Porter'sside of the bed is nearly cold, I wake up with the biggest smile on my face. Instead of nerves clenching my gut, this time it's excitement. I'm so tired of hiding this side of me from my parents, and owning my truth is way past due. Besides, it's what Porter deserves—for me to be open about how I feel about him, how proud I am to be with him.

We found our way back to each other, and never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that we could have anything again after he left and then returned with a huge chip on his shoulder.

But I was able to grind away at it, and through all the aches and pains, he finally let me in. No way I want something to come between us ever again.

After getting dressed, I slip into boots and grab my hat for the day ahead with the cattle. Instead of eating breakfast with my parents, I grab something quick on the way out, all fired up to get moving.

"I was hoping we could talk later," I tell my parents. "Maybe after dinner?"

"That sounds good." Dad throws Mom a sidelong glance over the top of his newspaper. "We have some things to square away with you too."

I'm assuming he means about Randy, so I hope last night went well between putting his daughter to bed and discussing treatment options. Pixie won't be up for at least another hour, and then Randy can see her off to school. At least he's been consistent with that. It's the evenings that seem to haunt him most.

Speaking of the devil, Randy is pacing outside the bunkhouse as I approach, like maybe something's worrying him. He blanches upon seeing me, but there's something else in his expression, almost like he's gloating about who knows what.

Is it related to our talk last night?

Just as I'm about to open my mouth to greet him, Wade charges toward me, wearing a grave expression. "We need to talk. It's important."

"What is it?" He leads me away from the bunkhouse and toward the firepit. "What's going on?"

Wade reaches inside his coat and pulls out some papers. "Randy had these. Took 'em from the house."

When my eyes spring toward Randy, he's wearing that same smarmy expression. "What in the world? Why would he…"

As I rifle through the pages, my breath catches. It takes me a full minute to understand what I'm reading. The ground seems to sway as my vision blurs. This information can't be accurate…or true. But the handwriting…

My entire life I defended my family to Porter. He always pushed back, and all this time I thought he was misinformed and being stubborn.

Warm bile climbs up my throat, and I hunch over, feeling nauseous.

"You all right, boss?"

"P—Porter?" is all I can get out.

"Randy showed them to him first." There's anger in Wade's tone. "He took off."

Now I understand why Randy is reveling in this. He thinks he's hurting Porter with evidence of a deal struck on paper between our great-grandfathers. Gloating that Porter lost out on his family legacy. All because of envy mixed with addiction, a volatile combination. But not every alcoholic is a thief, which only makes him a despicable human being.

And now Randy thinks what? That when we lose Porter, he can fill his shoes?

I feel Wade's hand on my shoulder. "I told Randy to wait for me outside the bunkhouse until I speak with you. But that didn't stop him from spewing his venom to the other guys. And not only about the papers."

He means about me and Porter sneaking around. But that revelation pales in comparison to the other. That my family took from Porter's, turned the ranch into a thriving business while Porter's family suffered and fell on hard times.

It no longer matters who knows about me and Porter—if there even is an us anymore. He'll assume I've been hiding the information from him all this time. Porter will never be able to trust me again. And after this, I wouldn't blame him.

In fact, maybe he's already gone.

I square my jaw. "And?"

"Dunno. But I do know the men have been concerned about how erratic Randy's been acting."

Despair colors my vision as I spring up and stalk toward Randy. "You piece of shit! What gives you the right to search through our things and violate my family's privacy?"

A flash of shock filters through his expression before he narrows his eyes. He was expecting a different reaction from me, maybe a bribe to keep the information on my family quiet, who knows? And at this point, it doesn't matter. The Sullivan Ranch will be shaken by scandal one way or another. We either survive it or we don't.

"Boss, I only wanted to—" But Randy's pleading voice only stokes my anger.

"I'm not your boss anymore." I jab a finger in his chest. "You're finished. Get the fuck off our land."

"I should've known you'd take up for your lover." His face transforms with rage as his hands curl into fists. I haven't even considered what this might mean for Pixie. But after this, there's no way this man can continue to work for us. "You think he's still yours after what you stole from him? No way he's gonna want you anymore."

Wade strategically places himself between us just as I step forward. "Now go on. Gather your things and be on your way."

But Randy doesn't pack up anything, just walks to his truck and tears off.

"What about Pixie, boss?"

"Fuck!" I pace with my hands linked over my head. "Not sure. First things first. I need to speak to my parents. For the record, I've never seen those papers before."

I need at least one person to believe me, and I see in his eyes that he does.

"Ain't none of my business anyway." He looks toward the bunkhouse. "We'll get going on the morning chores."

"Thanks, Wade, for always being a good person and a loyal friend."

As I head toward the house, my anger returns like an icy blow to my chest. It helps bury the worry and anguish as I focus on my parents' part in all this.

Mom and Dad are still at breakfast when I step inside.

I toss the papers in the center of the table. "Care to explain?"

Mom shoots Dad a troubled look.

"Where did you get those?" Dad asks. "Were you rifling around in my desk?"

"I wouldn't do that unless you asked?—"

"Your mother set them aside so we could?—"

"Randy stole them!" I fold my arms, as if that'll keep all the pieces of me from flying apart.

"Stole—he went through our things?" Dad's jaw clenches as he glances toward the living room, putting the events of last night together. "Where is he?"

"I fired him." My gaze steadies on him. "Told him to leave after what he's done. So that's what he did. Went to his truck and drove off without collecting any of his stuff."

Mom stands, alarm in her expression. "What about Pixie?"

My shoulders sag as I pace the room. "For now, she's safe."

Dad nods and points to a chair. "Will you at least sit down so we can explain?"

I shake my head and continue wearing a path in the floor. The burden of the truth weighs heavily on me. Are my parents even who I thought they were? This whole time I've been holding part of myself back, and they've been hiding this? "I don't know how you think you can possibly explain?—"

"We didn't know!" Dad blurts.

"At least not until after your grandfather passed. We were planning to tell you eventually," Mom adds, and now I'm curious if it's the reason they agreed to talk later. "Now will you take a seat?"

My gut churns, and my muscles are so tight that even sitting doesn't unclench them.

"When I found my father's journal after the funeral," Dad says, "I could scarcely believe the secrets it contained. Those papers were stuffed inside, along with a confession that the story Porter's father had told for years was indeed true."

"We sought legal advice, of course." Mom is nervously twisting her napkin in her lap. "We were told the agreement wasn't binding because it was never notarized. We were also advised to burn the papers, but we couldn't bring ourselves to do something like that. It didn't seem right."

"It weighed heavily on us, so we mulled over our options and never settled on a solution. That dispute happened generations ago; what could we do now? Hand over part of the ranch based on a written note between two men who were supposedly friends?"

"It's about more than that." I pound my fist on the table. "It's about our family's legacy. How everyone in town who heard the rumor believed us and not the Dixons because, what? They were poor? They wouldn't be poor if my great-grandfather hadn't been a cheat."

"You're right." Dad frowns. "You think I'm not ashamed? Because I am. And maybe that's why I welcomed the Dixons to this ranch all those years ago."

"You mean…" My head spins as I put more of the puzzle pieces together. "So that's why you hired Mrs. Dixon and put Porter to work on the ranch too?"

"Partly, yes. They're good people and deserved a leg up." Dad winces. "It was common knowledge that Mr. Dixon had his struggles, and hell if I wanted his wife and son to suffer."

"But they did suffer! Their family's name was tarnished after what ours did." I clench my jaw. "I can't believe this is real."

"We're so sorry. There were times over the years when we considered telling you," Mom says, and I can hear the regret in her voice. "After his momma passed away and Porter left so abruptly, we thought that might be the last we'd see of the Dixons. We regretted not taking the opportunity?—"

"But then Porter returned, and you were both eager to hire him." I stand again and pace. "It all makes sense now."

"What else could we do? It gave us another chance to consider talking with Porter about our families. But we were also nervous it would reopen old wounds," Mom says.

"And tarnish our reputation?" I accuse.

Dad shakes his head. "We'd rather make things right. If after all this time our customers and neighbors don't know who we are and what we stand for, then so be it."

I meet my father's eyes and know he means it. My parents have never been anything but upstanding, fair-minded business people trying to live an honest life and have something to pass down. They weren't perfect, but they meant well and raised me to have respect and compassion not only for the animals and the land, but our employees too.

"We could tell how pleased you were having Porter back in your life, which only made us consider our options again. It's the reason we planned on telling you first. It's complicated."

"It's definitely complicated." The words climb to my lips, and I finally let them fall free. "Because I love him!"

"Of course you do, he's your fr?—"

"No, I'm in love with him. Always have been." My parents sit motionless, watching me. "He was my first love, and no one else even comes close."

Mom throws Dad a look. "So, Aimee…"

"Was a misguided decision to do the right thing. To be a good son and make you proud, especially since losing Faith left me as the sole heir of this ranch."

Mom looks stricken at the sound of my sister's name.

"Oh, honey. I wish you'd told us sooner that you felt that way."

"I didn't feel like I could. We don't talk about Faith very often, but we should. Visit her grave more too. I was only five and don't remember all that much, but I do know part of your dream died with her. I wanted to help with some of that, by meeting the right girl and giving you grandchildren."

"Oh, honey, no." Mom's hand briefly rests against her mouth. "That only works if it makes you happy too. And it's obvious it doesn't."

I blink back tears. "No, it doesn't, and I can't hide it anymore."

Dad grips my hand. "And we wouldn't want you to, no matter what that means."

We sit silent for a long moment, lost in our thoughts, when Mom leans into my line of sight. "Looks like we've got some fixin' to do."

My stomach bottoms out. "You know that foundation I poured a few years back?"

Dad nods. "The house you were considering building."

My parents likely thought it was for my future family, even after Aimee and I ended up staying in my wing of the ranch house. And I suppose it was, in a way.

"I did that for me and Porter, even though I figured he wasn't coming back." I point in the direction of the mountains. "That stream is our stream. Every part of this land reminds me of him. I want to build a life with him, and now…no way he'll accept any of this, let alone put it behind us."

"Oh, honey." Mom rubs at her heart like it hurts her too. "I'm so sorry. We feel awful. Where is he now?"

Suddenly it occurs to me where he might be.

"I might know." I turn for the door, focused on only one person. My person.

Porter Dixon.

I head toward the stables and Midnight.