heard. He had tried to buy the ranch. A developer had talked about building rental cabins and Evan had imagined managing them, something stable, something real. But the loan fell apart. His credit was ruined. He had not told Dad. He just kept saying everything was fine.
“When you bought it,” he said, “I freaked out. Not because I thought you were stealing. I just saw the last thing I’d been hanging on to vanish. And Dad told me it was yours to give me, that you’d do the right thing like you always do.”
“Meaning he expected me to sacrifice again,” I said quietly.
Evan nodded miserably. “And I let him because it was easier than admitting I’d failed.” A long silence. The cold was settling deeper but neither of us moved. A bird called somewhere in the pines and the sound carried in the stillness with the particular clarity that comes from being far enough from any highway that natural sounds are
