“It’s family property,” Dad said. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”
“The only misunderstanding,” Walt said, “is the idea that you can bring a locksmith to force entry onto someone else’s land.” The locksmith packed up fast. The realtor cleared his throat. Evan sneered and asked if they were really going to be arrested for standing there. Walt told him that if they broke the gate or attempted entry, he
would arrest them. My father’s face went red. “My daughter is unstable. She needs intervention, not a ranch.”
From behind my curtains, I actually laughed. Then I opened the front door and stepped into the cold. The crunch of snow under my boots carried in the silence. I walked the gravel path toward the gate, each step steady. When my father saw me, his mouth fell open.
“You thought I wasn’t here,” I said softly. “You thought you could take my home.”
