Legacy & Cameron – Chestnut Ridge Skies

The black SUV announced itself with a plume of dust long before the vehicle came into view. Jackson spotted it from the saddle, nudging his stallion toward the fence line where Beau was wrestling a tumbleweed out of the wire.

“Yer mother’s comin’,” Jackson drawled.

Beau straightened, squinting toward the ridge. “What she want?”

“I ain’t no mind reader,” Jackson said. “Probably some event she wants us to go to for Briony.”

“Nah, there ain’t nothin’ goin’ on. She and I spoke last night.”

Jackson paused. “Ya called yer sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Good boy. I’ll be sure to mention that when yer mother launches her next complaint at me. If I don’t come back, take care of yer other mother and siblins.”

Beau smirked. “She ain’t gon kill ya. Amy won’t let her.”

Jackson grinned, gave his horse a quick hiya, and steered him toward the front of the ranch just as the SUV rolled to a stop.

He slowed the canter to a walk as Briar Rose stepped out, sunglasses on, hair perfect, looking like she’d just stepped off a stage instead of a dirt road.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Bri,” Jackson said, deliberately chipper. “What brings ya out here on such a fine mornin’?”

She pulled off her sunglasses. “Can you dismount, or am I supposed to get a permanent neck cramp? Rude.”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

Jackson swung down from the saddle, boots hitting the dirt. He pulled the reins over the stallion’s neck and patted him.

Briar Rose stroked the horse’s face, her expression softening. For a moment, Jackson saw the horse‑obsessed teen girl he’d once loved.

“He’s very handsome,” she said. “What’s his name?”

“That right here is Maverick.”

“Hello handsome. Did you retire Blaze?”

“Blaze died, Bri.”

“Oh no, I am so sorry. I know he was your heart horse.”

Something about her remembering, asking, and knowing felt good. Like a little bit of what once was between them didn’t get lost. He just nodded. Not much to say about it.

“Maverick is precious. Studding him?”

“Yes ma’am. He makes mighty purdy foals. Ya lookin’ for a stud?”

“No, I’ve got one waiting for me at home.” Bri grinned.

Jackson snorted. “Bri, I know taste is hard to argue about, and Brad deserves a lotta words, but ‘stud’ ain’t one of ’em.”

“Well, you’ve never had sex with him.”

“That’s the truth, and I thank the Lord for blessin’ me with better taste.”

“Alright, you connoisseur. Get in the car.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going somewhere. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back by dinner.”

“Bri, what are ya up to?”

“Get in the car and find out, cowboy.” She slipped her sunglasses back on and slid into the driver’s seat.

Muttering under his breath, Jackson tied his horse to a trunk, then climbed into the passenger seat.

Jackson’s brother Cody rode up on his black stallion ‘Whiskey’, tipping his hat. “Howdy, y’all. Where ya headed?”

“Ask the ex‑wife,” Jackson said. “Tell mine I went off with Bri, and to send a search party if I ain’t back by supper. Hey — put Maverick up for me.”

“Yes, sir will do. Bye, y’all.” Cody grinned big, shaking his head as he leaned down to untie Maverick.

“You are such a drama queen,” Bri said, steering the SUV down the ridge.

They drove for a while into the open prairie, golden grass stretching forever.

“Listen, darlin’,” Jackson said, “if yer thinkin’ ‘of ’bout killin’ me and leavin’ my body for the coyotes, I gotta warn ya — plenty o’ witnesses saw me leave with ya.”

“Jackson, if I wanted you dead, I’d hire a hitman. You wouldn’t even know what happened. Nobody would. Unfortunately do we share two children and I would never hurt them like that. And I like Amy; no way I’d leave her to deal with the houseful of kids you stuck that poor woman with.”

“Yeah, that’s all my fault …”

“Of course it is. If you – at your ripe old age – still do not know how to prevent babies from happening, you are more worthless than I thought.”

“Hell Bri, and here I was thinkin’ it takes two to make babies, hot damn. Just tell me one thing, then, if all them kids were my idea, don’t ya think at least one of ’em would have been another boy to give Beau and me a fightin’ chance.”

“Also your fault. The man’s contributions determine the gender.” she pulled down her sunglasses and looked at him. “Turn it how you want, you brought all that on yourself.”

She tipped the glasses back in place, tapped on the GPS on her phone screen, then stopped the car abruptly, stepped out into the dust cloud, looked around, then walked off into the prairie.

Jackson unfolded his tall frame out of the SUV, shook his head, set his old Stetson on his head, tapped it once, and followed.

“Bri, yer actin’ mighty strange — even for you. Or is that my fault too?”

She finally stopped and lay down in the grass.

“Bri, girl, what the heck are ya doin’? At least look to make sure there ain’t no rattlers tannin’ their hides!”

She patted the ground beside her. “In my business I can smell snakes from miles away, none here. Quit being such a chickenshit and join me. Just for a little while.”

Jackson raised a brow, sighed, took off his hat, and lowered himself beside her.

“I always loved the endless blue skies here,” she said. “It’s different than back home.”

“Where’s home these days?”

“Where it always was. Brindleton Bay.”

“Well, for a while ya were happy here. Then home was San Sequoia.”

“Home was always where I was born. I was happy here because you were here. Back when… well.”

“Yeah, that feels like a different lifetime, don’t it? Sometimes I find it hard to believe that you and I were real close once. Could fool most people when they see us together these days.”

“Yeah, also mostly your fault.”

“Of course it is.”

“Well, you don’t even recognize this spot.”

“Course I recognize it. I know every inch of this here land.”

“Do you? Then tell me why this part is special.”

“Whaddaya mean, special? Special how?”

She sat up and swatted at him. “You really don’t remember! You are such a douchebag, Jackson Cole Kershaw!”

“What are ya on ’bout, woman!”

“THIS,” she gestured wildly, clearly agitated, “this is where we had the twins. In our wedding night!”

He groaned, closed his eyes, grabbed his hat and slapping it over his face.

“Yeah! Just like I keep telling you, almost everything is YOUR fault, cos if it doesn’t have hooves and nays you have the memory of a goldfish!” she grabbed his hat off and swatting him a few times with it, he curled aside, chuckling.

“I am sorry, Bri. I give ya that one. Yer right. Kinda. It was actually down that way, bout half a mile. See them big rocks. Protected on one side, that’s how a real cowboy knows to set up camp. But yer right, I messed that one up. Hard to believe it’s been almost three decades ago. Man, we were so young and dumb, thinking we knew everythin’, turns out we knew less than nothin’.”

“Yeah, that is true. Man, were we confused and wrong about so many things.”

“But we also did a few things right. Like Beau and Briony. Tell me how they could’ve turned out any better.”

“True.”

Silence settled between them, warm and familiar.

They sat on the ground where the prairie stretched out in every direction, nothing but golden grass, distant hills, and the low hum of cicadas filling the warm afternoon. The breeze rolled across the open land, tugging at Briar Rose’s long honey‑blonde waves until they lifted and fluttered behind her like a banner. Jackson sat opposite her, boots planted in the dirt, elbows resting on his knees, hat tipped low to shade his eyes. His posture was relaxed, but his jaw was tight — the way it always got when he was trying not to lose his temper.

Then Bri asked, “When did you stop loving me, Jackson? And why?”

He turned his head. She turned hers. For a moment, they were young again — her strange light seaglass green eyes, his bright blue ones against sun‑baked skin.

“What kinda hella dumb question is that, Briar Rose?”

“What? Just be honest. Enough time has passed.”

“Are ya dyin’ or somethin’? We talked all that to death a million times over by now. Where is all this comin’ from all of a sudden? I thought yer happy with yer life now, cos I am happy with mine.”

“With a doctor for a husband I can assure you I am not anywhere near dying. And yes, of course I am happy with my life. Brad and I are endgame.”

“Where is he?”

“Back home. I’m allowed to leave his sight and let go of his hand, you know. I have a career that has me travel a lot at times, in case you forgot. The again, you live in a place where progress died a slow, painful death. FYI – women are allowed to vote now.”

“Didn’t forget. What I am asking is does he know ya came here?”

“Of course. He trusts me.”

“That I doubt. Especially when my name comes into play. And I base that off past experiences.”

“There used to be a time this might have flagged, but that is long ago now. Not anymore. He knows it’s him, and ONLY him for me. He is so confident in that now, I could be laying naked in a sea of men and he wouldn’t give a shit. If you could act civilized around him, he would be here. I prefer him to be safe, because my ex-husband is an ass and a brute.”

“I can’t help bein’ an ass and a brute, there is jus’ somethin’ about Dr. Bradford Cunningham that evokes my punch reflex as much as he makes me vomit on sight. So why don’t ya answer yer own question? Sounds like ya got it all figured out now, and gotta remind ya, you were the one leavin’ me for him, cos ya wanted to be the doctor’s wife. I didn’t leave ya.”

“Debatable. I remember coming home from tour once to a foreclosed home, while you had our son and your precious horses all packed up and ready to come back here, leaving poor Briony hysterically sobbing her little eyes out thinking she and I would have to sleep under a bridge. Between you repeatedly pulling shit like that and refusing to acknowledge that our daughter needs life-saving medication to be anywhere near your ranch, you beat my love for you right out of me. Besides, I realized you’d never love me as much as your ranch and your horses. And I realized we weren’t compatible. We should’ve known that long ago.”

Jackson let out a long breath, the kind that came from years of holding things in. “Yeah… yer not wrong,” he said quietly. “I think we both screwed up a lot, but I own all ya just said. I did make a lot of mistakes with you, and with Briony, and if I could go back and fix all that I would, believe you me.”

He looked at her then — really looked — not with anger, not with regret, but with the kind of honesty that only comes after the dust has settled.

“All I’ll say about lovin’ ya is that that was never the issue for me,” he went on. “I did love ya. Harder than I ever thought possible. But our priorities jus’ don’t align. That was excitin’ when we were teens, but once we started a family… that’s what broke us. Over and over again.”

Briar Rose didn’t interrupt. She didn’t look away either.

“Yeah, maybe I could’ve tried harder to come more yer way,” Jackson admitted. “I give ya that. But if ya take a long, hard look at us, a blind man would see we could never make that work. Ya need yer fancy lifestyle, mansion, the stage with fans screamin’ yer name… and I need the opposite. Wide open spaces. Domestic life that’s simple and straight‑forward. I know that ain’t every man and woman’s dream, but it’s what I need. What I love.”

He shrugged, almost helpless. “Amy feels like that. And you got yer Brad, who likes all that fancy stuff rich people need, jus’ like you.”

His voice softened. “I made mistakes tryin’ to hold on to a woman lettin’ go. When ya married Brad the first time, I shoulda let ya be. Counted my losses and moved on. I tried, but I couldn’t. That was my biggest mistake.”

He paused, letting the weight of it settle between them.

“But ya weren’t innocent either, Bri,” he said, not cruel, just truthful. “If ya wanna point fingers at me, ya gotta be honest with yerself about that part too. Ya cheated on me with Brad… and on him with me. He knew it. I knew it.”

Her eyes flickered — guilt, memory, pain.

“I mean, up until she was a little toddler, we all thought Eden — or Caroline — was my child.” He shook his head. “That don’t happen if ya were all straightlaced and honest.”

Silence stretched, but it wasn’t hostile. It was the kind of silence that comes when two people finally stop lying to themselves.

“But I kept lovin’ ya,” Jackson said softly. “Right up until I met Amy. That’s when I realized what ya just said. You and I never fit the way Amy and I do.”

He didn’t say it to hurt her. He said it because it was the truth. And because, for the first time in years, they were finally saying the truth out loud. Bri nodded.

“Yeah. That’s how Brad and I fit. Meant to be. You were always a great guy, though, underneath all the rough edges. Hard to let go. Tough act to follow, that I will admit.”

Jackson smirked, looking back up at the sky.

“Whatcha want, Bri?”

“Why do you think I want anything?”

“Cos I know ya. What is it?”

She sighed. “Okay. Remember when you helped Stryker Hayes get sober?”

“’Course I remember. What about that?”

She angled herself more to face him. He turned his head.

“Soooooooo , ya know Brad’s daughter from his first marriage, Lauren, is my stepdaughter. She’s married to Blaine. And Blaine has hit a rough spot. He’s been to rehab twice now and—”

Jackson raised his hands sharply. “Bri, lemme stop ya right there — no. Absolutely no.”

“Why not? You’ve done it before. And Stryker was in much rougher shape. Blaine just … I don’t know. Needs an attitude adjustment or something. He’s functioning. Just … stupid.”

“That was thirty damn years ago. I was a young man then, not married, and I didn’t have kids, but what I did have was boundless energy. And I ain’t never been a fan of the original Blaine, and I ain’t too passionate about his boy neither. I got a wife, a daughter who’s now a young woman, a teen daughter and two younger daughters. That’s a lotta girls to take care of. I can’t have no addict throwing fits among all my women! And even if I were insane enough to even entertain this foolish idea for a second, I gotta run it by Amy — we decide things together.”

“Wow, she’s changed you. Back when we were married, you decided and I had to deal with it.”

“Bri…”

“Jackson, at least think about it.”

“Why me? You have a ton of money, ya married into a ton of money, and Blaine had a ton of money, all ya’ll could buy every rehab facility known to mankind and still come out on top. Book him into somethin’ nice and fancy. You’ve spent the last decades tellin’ me how shitty my ranch is, my life is, my style is, my horses are— I am. Jus’ got through sayin’ all that to me again. Now ya want me to baby some grown man back into a decent person with a functioning brain? That don’t make no damn sense, no Ma’am!”

“If you do this, I’ll buy ten stud fees from Maverick.”

Jackson blinked. “What?”

“Brad has horses. Caroline is a competitive rider. You’d like her if you ever gave my daughter the time of day, she is as horse obsessed as you are and she is a very good rider. We wouldn’t mind some of your stallion’s spunk in a foal out of her favorite mare. Lumiere.”

“Bri, that ain’t how breedin’ works in yer circles. Ya need clean lines, not mutts with my Saddlebred.”

“Fine, then we’ll buy a horse from you. Two horses. A fucking herd of them. Please Jackson!”

“Briiiiiiaaar Rose …” Jackson drawled her name into a no without saying the word.

“Jackson, please. If you do this, I’ll forgive you for not going to see Briony.”

“Bri…”

“I’ll forgive you for hitting Nate.”

Jackson groaned. “Goddamn it, Bri — I ain’t never hit yer son! I grazed him. Accidentally. He knows that, you know that, I know that, everyone knows that! I apologized a million times.”

“It would have never happened, had you not gone after his father – again. Of course Nate would try to help. Which son worth anything wouldn’t? Nate knows he can’t take you, he is a very smart young man, but he loves his Dad and tried to stop you from hitting Brad anyway. If anything, that is admirable and certainly not something you can dismiss with – ‘was nothing’. It was something to many of us. How would you feel if I punched one of your girls and she then would have to go to school looking like she was on the bottom of the pile on bar brawl night? Seriously! My poor son had to run around with a huge shiner and a messed-up face – on campus. You haven’t been to university, but that’s not fun for any boy. That is my child, Jackson, no matter how old. Just because he is not YOUR child, and just happens to be my son with Brad doesn’t mean you get to manhandle him!”

“Alright, here we go again ….”

“I’ll drop it forever if you say yes.” Bri said quickly, eyes narrowed, clearly playing the ace up her sleeve.

He leaned back, eyes closed, face to the sky.

“Hell woman, yer a plague if I ever seen one. You are such a manipulator. Fine. I’ll run it by Amy. If she thinks I should do it, I will. No guarantees. That Blaine ain’t no rancher. He’ll be more miserable than you ever were. And I was bein’ mighty nice to ya back then. I won’t be nice to him. Especially not if he starts getting special on us.”

“That’s the point,” Bri said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as the wind pushed it back again. “He needs a reality check. I want you to make him work for it like only you can. Get him dirty. Treat him like a ranchhand or whatever — I don’t care. Whatever you think is best.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Whatever you did when you thought you were being nice to me back when,” she continued, voice softening for a moment, “I remember what kind of reality check it was. It cut my arrogance down to size. It helped me see the big picture. That is what he needs. And you managed that with me, we both know that I am stubborn as hell and do whatever I want anyway, but you had me falling in line where I admittedly needed it, and you managed it with a total wreck like Stryker… I mean, even Connor said he was more dead than alive when he brought him to you, and even he didn’t think he had a snowball’s chance in hell — but you did it. Compared to that, Blaine is a walk in the park.”

She plucked a blade of grass and twisted it between her fingers. “And your daughters can show off to their friends that the Blaine Cameron is living at their ranch.”

Jackson snorted, leaning back on his palms. “Nobody here knows who the hell he is, Bri, and the few who might don’t care. My kids listen to real music. Not that lousy loud artificial crap everyone in the big cities listens to. Country music is real men and women with real voices and real instruments singin’ about real things.”

Bri’s head snapped toward him, hair whipping across her cheek. “Huh? So my voice and music aren’t real? I can play instruments, Jackson. I can sing a capella, full range, and none of it is artificial! Maybe a few stabilizers here and there — especially live — because unlike your country crooners who stand in one spot all night, I also do dance routines on stage.”

She jabbed a finger toward him. “And Blaine does a different kind of music, but he moves around a lot too. That’s why he’s in his current mess. He took a bad jump off a speaker box on stage, landed hard, broke his femur, sprained his wrist, concussion, banged up to hell. Ended up addicted to the painkillers — which is almost understandable. Brad said few things hurt longer than a broken femur.”

Jackson’s head snapped up. “He what now?!” His voice boomed across the empty land. A flock of birds startled from the grass and took off. “Bri, lemme stop ya right there. If he got all that wrong with him, he can’t be on a ranch! What the hell ya thinkin’, woman?! He can’t ride like that! He can’t even drag a wet kitten ’cross a room like that!”

He gestured broadly at the endless prairie. “Does my ranch look wheelchair accessible to ya?! Goddamn girl, use yer head for more than new hairstyles and makeup, would ya!”

Briar Rose scoffed, tossing her hair back. “Thank you, Jackson, because I am a drooling idiot and didn’t know that! Do you really think Brad would sign off on this if Blaine wasn’t healthy enough?! Of course he’s better already. He still needs a crutch, but he can walk, he can take care of himself without help. He just won’t be able to lift heavy shit or whatever, but he can do… things.”

She flicked a hand dismissively. “And no, he cannot ride, injured or not. As in, zero percent skill. I seriously doubt he’s ever seen a horse up close, unless he and Lauren canoodled in our stables at some point. He has zero interest in any of your… ‘ranchcore’ here.”

Jackson barked a humorless laugh. “Ain’t that just peachy. He can do things? Right. ’Cos that’s what I need help with. Things. I got five girls of various ages who can help me with ‘things’. I need more of that like I need a hole in my damn head.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, eyes sharp. “What I need are strong men to help me out. Listen, Bri — ya know why I hire ranch hands? Think I got too much money and can’t think of any better way to get rid of it? No. I hire ’em ’cos most of the ranch work is heavy shit, as you put it, or somethin’ that requires ridin’ or at least solid base knowledge ’bout horses.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “I ask ya — what am I supposed to do with some addle‑headed bone‑orchard‑bound ornament?! Last thing I need is ’nother mouth to feed. I have no use for him, and I still gotta do heavy shit too, so I can’t be some celebrity guy’s nanny from dawn till dusk.”

The wind swept across the open prairie in long, rolling waves, bending the tall grass until it whispered against their legs. Briar Rose sat cross‑legged in the dirt, the sun catching in her warm honey‑blonde hair until it glowed like spun gold. Every gust lifted the long waves and sent them drifting across her shoulders, brushing her cheek, tangling around her fingers when she pushed them back again.

Jackson sat opposite her, boots planted wide, forearms resting on his knees. His hat now lay beside him in the grass, dark hair ruffled by the breeze. The smell of dry earth, sun‑warmed sage, and distant horses hung between them — familiar, grounding, but doing nothing to soften the tension.

He pointed at her, not unkindly, but firmly. “So all he could be doin’ is sittin’ on his ass all day long — and he can do that elsewhere. And don’t ya be lookin’ at me like that.”

The wind carried the tension between them across the open land, stretching it thin but never breaking it. Neither looked away.

Briar Rose’s jaw tightened. Her hair whipped across her face again, and she shoved it back with a sharp, impatient flick. “I’ll pay you. Name any number. I’ll write the check.”

Jackson groaned. “Bri …”

“Fifty k?”

“Bri!”

“Hundred thou?”

Jackson sat up straighter, eyes flashing. “Bri, I don’t want yer damn money! I never wanted yer damn money and I ain’t gon’ start wantin’ it now! This ain’t ’bout money, it’s about principle!”

His voice echoed across the prairie, startling a pair of meadowlarks from the grass. They shot upward, wings beating, disappearing into the sky.

Briar Rose didn’t flinch. She stared right back at him, eyes bright, hair wild from the wind, looking every bit the woman who still stood on stages in front of thousands — and every bit the girl who used to sit in this same dirt with him, dreaming of a life neither of them could give the other.

The breeze tugged at her hair again, lifting it like a veil. Jackson watched it for a moment — the familiar honey‑blonde wave he’d once known better than his own heartbeat — before dragging his gaze back to her face.

The prairie around them was endless, quiet, waiting.

And neither of them moved.

Jackson’s words hung between them, sharp and final. Bri’s mouth tightened, but she didn’t look away. The prairie around them was quiet except for the low rustle of grass and the distant creak of a windmill turning somewhere behind the ridge.

“Jackson, I am begging you.” Her voice cracked — not dramatically, but honestly. “Legitimately begging. Whatever you want — I’ll do it, I’ll say it, I’ll pay it, anything you need. Name it. I’m desperate.”

He blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift.

“This is Brad’s son‑in‑law,” she pressed, leaning forward, hands braced in the dirt. “And it’s killing Lauren — and therefore it’s killing Brad — and therefore killing me. She has three children under the age of three, and she is the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet. She deserves better. But you and I both know how a person holds on to a love even when it’s tearing them apart.”

Jackson’s jaw worked, but he didn’t interrupt.

“This isn’t a game,” Bri said, voice low and urgent. “It’s urgent. And you’re the only one I trust to help him. He’s been through those fancy rehab facilities more times than I can count. He even managed to get himself addicted while in rehab — yes, for his injuries, but still. At one of Brad’s own facilities, he stole oxycodone and got hooked right after getting clean from cocaine, following the heroin addiction before that. And that’s not even touching the alcohol or the chain‑smoking.”

She finally stopped, breath shaking. Jackson stared at her, the wind tugging at the brim of his hat where it lay beside him.

They traded a glance — the kind that carried years of history, mistakes, and truths neither of them liked saying out loud. Jackson shook his head, grabbed his hat, and stood. Then he held out a hand.

“Come on.”

She took it, and he pulled her up like she weighed nothing.

“We’ll talk to Amy,” he said. “If Amy makes me do this, you drop all the naggin’. Never again a single word about me supposedly hittin’ yer son or about me not bein’ able to go see Briony much. Ya gotta promise.”

He barely finished before Bri launched herself at him — arms around his neck, legs nearly lifting off the ground as she kissed both his cheeks in rapid, delighted bursts. Her perfume hit him first, warm and familiar, then her laughter, bright and victorious.

She pulled back, grinning like she’d just won a war. “I swear. You do this for me and I will never, ever mention you hitting Nate or abandoning Briony again. But I’m the one who runs it by Amy. Get in the car.”

She was already halfway to the driver’s side.

Jackson’s eyes widened. “Nah, Bri — that wasn’t the deal!” He rushed after her.

“It wasn’t not the deal either…” she called over her shoulder, hair flying behind her as she slid into the seat.

Pleading the Case

The SUV rolled up the long dirt drive, dust swirling behind it. Before Bri even cut the engine, Jackson flung the door open and sprinted toward the cabin like a man possessed.

“Ya ain’t gon beat me, woman!” he hollered over his shoulder.

“Oh please,” Bri snapped, already halfway out of the driver’s side. “You run like a refrigerator.”

They barreled toward the porch, tripping over each other, elbowing like siblings, and burst through the cabin door at the exact same time.

Amy shrieked, hand flying to her chest.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—what is WRONG with you two?!”

Savannah, standing at the stove stirring a pot, jumped and dropped her spoon.

At the big table, Lainey, Bonnie, and Daisy froze mid‑homework — three sets of wide eyes, three country drawls ready to fire if needed, three girls who had grown up with Jackson’s chaos and still weren’t used to this level of it.

Beau and Cody, sitting with beers, looked up.

Beau grinned. “Hey Ma,” he said, rising to hug Bri. “You scared the hell outta us.”

Bri hugged him tight, kissing his cheeks. “Hi baby. How’s the wife and kid?”

“Della Rae’s jus’ fine and our lil one is growin’ like a weed. Ya stoppin’ by my place too?”

“Try and stop me. Since I keep in touch with all my children, not just those nearby, unlike your father.”

“Oh Jeeses Christ Almighty! Ya promised that would stop!” Jackson ranted.

“She hasn’t said yes yet! Just giving you a reminder to start rooting for me.”

Jackson pointed at Bri. “Ya hear that nonsense, Amy? Hear what I gotta deal with?!”

Bri pointed at Jackson. “He started it.”

Amy closed her eyes. “I swear to God, every time you two get together, my blood pressure goes up ten points.”

Lainey whispered to Bonnie, “Mama’s gon’ lose it.”

Bonnie whispered back, “She already did.”

Daisy clutched her pencil like a weapon.

Amy inhaled sharply. “Alright. What is it this time? Bri – you did come without Brad or do I have to worry?”

“Nah, don’t worry Amy, I saw her drive up without ‘im.” Cody snickered.

Jackson and Bri both started talking at once, pushing and shoving each other while trying to outtalk the other.

“Blaine needs help—” Bri said.

“Hell no he don’t—” Jackson said.

“He’s spiraling—” Bri insisted.

“He’s a Cameron, that’s a default—” Jackson countered.

“He needs structure—” Bri said.

“He needs a padded room—” Jackson muttered.

“He needs the ranch and Jackson being a dildo around him to set him straight—” Bri said.

“He needs Jesus—” Jackson said.

“What’s a dildo?” Daisy asked.

“She said Dingo, baby. A dingo, like that wild dog we saw on TV. Seriously, Bri?!” Amy grumbled and immediately Bri and Jackson snapped at each other, and nobody understood a single word anymore.

Savannah grabbed an empty pot, slammed it on the counter, and banged a wooden spoon against it like a gong.

Stunned silence followed.

“THANK YOU, Vannah,” Amy said, rubbing her temples.

Jackson and Bri both stared at her.

Amy pointed at Bri. “You. Talk. If you curse again, I will put you out.”

“Ames, why ya lettin’ her go first?!” Jackson blurted.

“Because she is a woman, Jackson. Ladies first, remember?”

“That’s Bri, she ain’t no lady— OUW, what the hell, Briar Rose!” Jackson rubbed the arm Bri had pinched, while she shot eye daggers at him.

“He deserved it!” Bri told Amy.

“Yes, he did. Jackson, you want me to listen, then lemme listen, alright?”

Jackson grumbled. “Yeah, right. Go ahead, Bri.”

Bri straightened. “Alright Amy, Lauren is Brad’s daughter from his first marriage — sweetest girl you ever meet, great doctor. She’s married to Blaine Cameron Jr.. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty about him on the news. So, he just relapsed — but not really all his fault, long story. He’s detoxing. He’s scared. He’s ashamed. This time, all the press and fans know is that it was an unfortunate accident. So we’re hesitant to send him back to rehab. And frankly, I think he needs more than rehab — he needs a reality check. Lauren wanted to do it at home, but she just had her third baby. Brad and I were gonna, but I have my own tour coming up. He needs something only Jackson can give. You know what I mean. We talked about this before, that special way he has to teach people things when they can’t hear anyone else anymore?”

Amy nodded once. “Now you.” She pointed at Jackson.

Jackson crossed his arms. “We ain’t runnin’ no rehab, Ames. I ain’t got time for babysittin’ no celebrity. I ain’t lettin’ no Cameron boy near my kids — all our girls be ruined for life with all his nonsense. And I ain’t—”

Savannah banged the pot again.

Amy slammed her hand on the counter. “ENOUGH. Put that dang pot away or I’ll swear …!”

Jackson flinched. “Vannah, darlin’, please stop.”

“Jus’ tryin’ to help, ’cos ya were diggin’ yerself in deep, Daddy.”

Amy folded her arms. “I agree with Savannah. Jackson Kershaw, you helped Stryker Hayes when he was worse off than any man I’ve ever seen. When he collapsed on live TV and vanished, we all thought he checked out permanently. Then two years later he’s back on some talk show lookin’ better than he ever had, talkin’ about some cowboy savin’ his life. I didn’t know that was you — not for another twenty years — but now that I do, it makes perfect sense. You saved his life. You gave him decades he never would’ve had. And we all know it’s true ’cos that man had been in and out of rehab more times than I can count on fingers and toes.”

Jackson looked away, jaw tight.

Amy stepped closer. “He was a perfect stranger to you. And you did it because you’re good. Because you’re steady. Because you’re strong. Because you don’t quit on people. It’s one of the many things that made me fall so hard for you.”

Jackson swallowed hard.

Amy continued, softer now. “Blaine isn’t a perfect stranger, even if we don’t know him. Lauren is Bri’s stepdaughter. Blaine is her family. And whether you like it or not, that makes him ours too. We both love Beau — and this is his mother asking for help. Don’t we listen to the preacher every Sunday about those who can help, should help? Don’t mean nothin’ to you now?”

Jackson muttered, “I ain’t gonna like him. I know I won’t like him.”

“You don’t have to like him,” Amy said. “You just gotta help him. The sooner you get him better, the sooner he will leave again.”

Bri looked hopeful.

Jackson looked doomed.

Savannah sighed dramatically. “Dad, you know you already lost. Just roll over and admit it.”

Amy smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Briar Rose grinned at Jackson, who shoved her which only made her laugh harder.

Amy turned to Bri. “We’ll do it. On conditions.”

Jackson groaned. “Lord help us now.”

“Condition one: If we call you and say it’s not working, someone comes to pick him up ASAP.”

Briar Rose nodded. “Of course. No problem at all.”

“Condition two: You Bri stay out of how we do this.”

Bri gasped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Amy said. “If we do it, we do it our way. I don’t want ya to come hauling up in your SUV like a fury yellin’ at my husband. That happens, you and I will have a problem. You drop him off, and we do our best in any way necessary. You drop the drama.”

Jackson and Cody grinned, Bri was standing between them, so she shoved both brothers.

Amy smiled sweetly. “Lastly: If Blaine comes here, he stays until Jackson says he’s done. Not you. Not Brad. Not Lauren. Jackson.”

Jackson blinked. “Wait — so I get full say?”

Amy nodded. “Full say. Do we have a deal?”

Jackson looked at Bri. “Well hell, woman, ya heard her. Looks like I’m takin’ yer Cameron boy — if ya can agree to all my woman told ya. So, Bri, do we have a deal?”

Bri squealed and hugged him. “Yes, we do. I am fine with all of that. And thank you both.”

Bri hugged Amy. “Thank you, Amy. I’m so glad he married a woman with a functioning brain, ’cos we both know his doesn’t work on days that end in ‘y.’”

Jackson groaned. “Goddamn plague woman…”

Bri winked. “Love you too, cowboy.”

Tell The Children

Blaine limped into the living room, surprised to see Brad and Bri there, and Lauren and Channing all staring at him. No babies, which flagged instantly. If Brad didn’t jump at every opportunity to snuggle kids, especially any related to him, something was wrong.

He had reached the couch.

“Okay, what is this, an intervention?” then at Lauren. “You told them?”

“She did. And rightfully so. Blaine, sit down.” Brad said calmly, and Blaine knew the tone. Nothing good was gonna come from this. Not for him.

“I rather stand.”

“Please sit.”

“I can’t, okay? I can sit in that chair and only that chair or all of you will have to help hoist me back up.”

“Fine, here, sit there then.” Brad stepped aside and pulled the chair closer, then helped Blaine lower himself into it, dropping the crutch at the side.

Harrington appeared in the doorway. “Refreshments? Maybe a light snack?”

“Bring me a bucket of whiskey and three lines of coke.” Blaine deadpanned, then rolled his eyes. “Joking. Chill everyone. Can we all get some coffee, please. Make it strong enough to dissolve spoons, I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

“Very well, Sir.” Harrington bowed slightly and vanished, soon after the decadent scent of fresh coffee wafted into the room. Moments later, he served up.

Everyone was now assembled, sipping. Clinking of metal spoons against porcelain.

“Blaine, you are going to rehab again. I love you, but I can’t do it here. I thought home would be healing to you, but I think it made you worse, reminding you of all you could do before the accident and now can’t, combine that with your legendary impatience and the chaos is complete. I can’t do that with three small children around.”

Blaine swallowed hard. The words stung, even though he knew she wasn’t wrong. He knew he had hurt her – again. Disappointed her – again. Let her and his children down – again.

“Okay,” he croaked hoarsely. “Where are you shipping me off to?”

Brad linked his hands together, leaning forward as if delivering a status report. “Well, you see that is what we all debated as well. We want you to be well taken care of, safe, but the typical rehab models do not seem to work well for you, so we looked into some alternative options …”

“Alternative rehab. Oh, that’s gonna be good.” Blaine interrupted.

“Well, it’s not bad …”

“Just say it already. Quit trying to prep me for the inevitable and just shove it in without lube. I can take it. I know I fucked up again. I know I deserve whatever you got coming for me. Just get it out so I can wrap my brain around what you all cooked up for me.”

“Jackson’s Ranch.” Bri said.

Blaine stared at her as if he misheard her, then his mouth fell open, his eyes grew wide.

His eyes darted to Lauren, who shrugged, then Brad and lastly Channing. The same pitiful glances.

Blaine stared at Brad like he’d grown a second head.

“You gotta be shitting me! Of all the crappy rehab bullshit out there — yoga retreats, kumbaya circles, people humming Ommm around a fire — you wanna send me to her ex‑husband’s horse ranch?! Is that supposed to be a sick joke?”

He gestured wildly at his immobilized leg.

“That Jackson‑bro and I can’t tell each other from Adam, and I’m supposed to bunk with him? What the fuck am I supposed to do there?! If this is some lame‑ass horse therapy idea — hello — I can’t ride a fucking horse! Takes me half an hour to get up or down a flight of fucking stairs and you all are sending me to some fucking farm?!”

He pointed at Bri, furious.

“Does that bro even know I’m coming, or are you planning to roll me out of a moving vehicle and hope he finds me lying in the dirt like a broken scarecrow?! Put me up in his barn next to some mangy nags?! Fuck this shit! I’m not going! I’m not doing it! I’m not—”

“Blaine.” Lauren’s voice was soft. Too soft.

He froze.

She stepped closer, eyes already wet, hands trembling as she reached for him.

“Baby… you will go.”

He stared at her, stunned. “Laur— no. No. Don’t do this. Don’t—”

She cupped his cheek, tears spilling. “If you don’t go… I will have to file for divorce.”

The world stopped.

Blaine’s breath hitched. His face crumpled. His whole body went still, like someone had unplugged him.

“Laur…” His voice broke. “Please don’t say that. Please.”

She slid onto his lap carefully, mindful of his leg, wrapping her arms around him as he began to shake.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, crying into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby. But my mind is made up. You have two choices. Go to the ranch… or I have to protect myself and the kids.”

He clung to her, sobbing, burying his face in her neck.

“Don’t leave me,” he begged. “Please. I’ll go. I’ll go. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want. Just— don’t leave me.”

Lauren kissed his forehead, her tears falling onto his skin.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered. “I love you, Blaine, so much, I want you. I want our family. But you have to fight for us now. You have to do the work. You have to get better.”

He nodded desperately, still crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Laur. I messed up. I know I messed up. I love you, I need you. I’ll go. I swear. I’ll go.”

She held him tighter.

“Good,” she whispered. “That’s all I needed to hear.”