chapter six

                                    

                                          




KAYCE WATCHED the Jeep kick up dust as it disappeared down the long road leading away from the Dutton ranch. The sight of Reagan behind the wheel, her expression hard and unreadable, left a sour taste in his mouth. Something was off, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than what anyone was letting on.
His boots crunched against the gravel as he stepped closer to Beth, who was standing by the house, still watching the Jeep's taillights fade into the distance. Her posture was tense, arms crossed, lips pursed in that familiar way when she was deep in thought, plotting the next move.
"What was that about?" Kayce asked, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Beth's head whipped toward him, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. She gave him a look that could've cut through steel. "None of your business," she snapped. "Last I checked, you wanted nothing to do with this family."
Kayce stiffened at the venom in her tone. He'd grown used to Beth's sharp tongue over the years, but it still stung when she threw his past decisions back in his face. He clenched his jaw, letting the sting settle before he spoke again.
"That's not what I said," he replied, his voice lower now, steadier. "But that doesn't mean I'm blind to what's happening around here."
Beth turned fully to face him, her eyes cold and calculating as she sized him up. "You left, Kayce," she said, her voice softer now, but no less cutting. "You took Monica, Tate, and ran off to live in your little bubble. You chose to distance yourself from this family. From all of this. So don't come riding in here now, acting like you care about the ranch when it suits you."
Kayce's fists tightened at his sides, his muscles coiling with a mix of frustration and guilt. He had left, it was true. He'd stepped away from the chaos, from the endless battles and bloodshed, trying to give his family a life that wasn't soaked in the violence that seemed to follow the Duttons like a shadow. But he hadn't abandoned them. Not really.
"I never stopped caring," he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground. "You know that."
Beth let out a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. "Do I?" She stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Because the way I see it, you've been perfectly fine pretending like none of this exists. You stay out there, playing house, while Dad and I fight every day to keep this ranch alive."
Kayce flinched at the bitterness in her voice, but he held his ground, meeting her gaze again. "It's not that simple, Beth. I'm doing what I think is right for my family. For Tate."
Beth's eyes flashed with something—anger, hurt, maybe even a flicker of understanding—but it was gone as quickly as it came. She shook her head again, this time more tired than angry.
"None of this is simple," she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned. "But you can't have it both ways, Kayce. You can't be half in and half out. You either fight for this family, or you don't."
Kayce opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Beth turned on her heel, already heading back toward the house. "Reagan's offer isn't your concern. And if you're smart, you'll keep it that way."
He watched her go, her words hanging heavy in the air. There was a part of him that wanted to chase after her, to demand answers, to get to the bottom of what Reagan had just proposed. But another part of him—the part that had been burned by the weight of the Dutton legacy more times than he could count—kept him rooted in place.
Beth was right. He had tried to keep one foot in and one foot out for too long. But something about Reagan, something about the way she had looked when she left, stirred up an old, familiar feeling in him. A feeling that maybe he couldn't stay on the sidelines forever.