The summer had stretched long and hot, dust rising off the rodeo pens and cicadas buzzing through the evenings. For Alex, it had been a season of quiet decisions—hard ones, but necessary. Jackie had kissed Cole, Jackie had left, Jackie had made it clear her heart was never truly steady. For too long, he’d lived tangled in her indecision, hanging on to hope like a fool.

But when she left for New York, Alex made his choice. He wasn’t going to wait for her anymore. He wasn’t going to measure his worth against Cole’s shadow. He deserved better.

Better came in the form of you.

It wasn’t a whirlwind romance—it was slower, steadier, something that rooted itself in laughter and late-night conversations, in the way you showed up to watch him ride even when the sun was blistering. You weren’t complicated, at least not in the ways Jackie had been. You weren’t a storm tearing through the Walters’ house. You were a calm Alex hadn’t known he’d needed.

By the time August slipped into September, you were his girlfriend in every way that mattered. Maybe not loud about it—Alex had always been quieter than Cole—but everyone could see the difference in him. The tightness around his eyes eased. His temper softened. He was smiling again.

Then Jackie came back.

She arrived at the Walters’ like a restless ghost—bags dropped at the door, city air clinging to her clothes. To most of the family, she was a welcome return. To Alex, she was a memory he’d already packed away.

But Jackie didn’t like that. Not at all.

It started subtle. The way her eyes lingered when Alex brushed past her in the kitchen to whisper an inside joke in your ear. The questions she asked, too pointed to be casual. “So…you and her? When did that start?” Her tone carried surprise, and maybe a hint of disdain, like she couldn’t quite believe Alex Walter had the audacity to move on from her.

You noticed it too, though Alex never gave her the satisfaction of reacting. If she tried to sit too close on the porch swing, he shifted away. If she brought up old memories, he redirected, his hand brushing yours as if to anchor himself in the present.

Still, Jackie wasn’t the type to stop when ignored. The more Alex turned away, the more determined she became. One night, when you’d gone home after dinner, Jackie caught him outside by the barn, the cicadas loud in the fields.

“You don’t even look at me anymore,” she accused, stepping into his space. “Like I never mattered.”

Alex didn’t flinch. He’d rehearsed this moment in his head for months. “You made your choice. I made mine.”

Her lips parted, shock flickering across her face. For once, Jackie Howard hadn’t expected rejection.