Dawn finds me packed and waiting at the elevator.
The bag at my feet holds everything I brought to Manhattan. Not much—clothes, books, the reading glasses Adison teased me about. My whole life here condensed into one small suitcase.
Cleaner this way. Less painful. If I leave before she wakes, we don't have to do this again. Don't have to stand in the wreckage of everything we built and pretend goodbye doesn't feel like dying.
The elevator button glows under my finger. I press it and wait.
"Jake."
Her voice hits me like a physical blow.
I turn, and there she is. Pajamas wrinkled from sleep. Hair tangled. Eyes red-rimmed and wounded in ways that make my chest crack open.
"You were going to leave without saying goodbye." Not a question. An accusation.
"Figured it was easier." I keep my voice flat. Controlled. "You wanted me gone. I'm going."
"That's not—" She stops. Wraps her arms around herself like she's cold. "I didn't mean for you to sneak away like a thief."
"You insisted pretty firmly last night." The words come out harder than I intend. "Seemed clear you wanted this done fast."
"This isn't permanent." Her voice cracks on the word. "I told you that. It's just necessary. Until things stabilize."
"Right. Necessary." I taste the bitterness in my own mouth. "And when I get back to Texas, at least I'll be in a world I actually control."
Her eyes flash. "There it is. Control. It's always about control with you."
"That's rich coming from the woman who just controlled me right out of her life."
"I'm trying to save my father's company—"
"You're trying to be everything they told you to be." I'm stepping closer without meaning to, drawn by the same gravity that's been pulling me toward her since the day she walked off that plane. "The perfect heiress. The perfect CEO. The perfect daughter."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. Except you're sacrificing everything real to get there."
The argument spirals the way our arguments always do—sharp words and sharper truths, both of us too stubborn to back down.
She says I don't understand Manhattan. I say she's forgotten who she was before it got its claws back into her.
Neither of us wins. Neither of us ever wins.
The elevator dings behind me. Doors sliding open.
"I need to go." I pick up my bag. "Goodbye, Adison."
She doesn't move. Just stands there in the hallway, arms wrapped around herself, watching me step into the elevator like I'm watching myself from somewhere far away.
I press the button for the lobby. The doors begin to close.
"Aren't you even going to kiss me?"
Her voice stops time.
The doors are already moving, the gap between us shrinking by the second, and she's standing there asking for one last touch. One final connection before I disappear back to Texas and she disappears into the role Manhattan designed for her.
I should stop the doors. Should cross the distance and kiss her until neither of us remembers why we're saying goodbye.
But the doors close anyway. And I let them.
* * *
An hour later, my taxi stops at the hospital.
The elevator ride up feels like climbing toward something I'm not ready to face. But I can't leave New York without seeing him. Can't walk away from years of friendship without at least trying to end things right.
Richard's room is quiet when I enter. Machines beeping. Monitors tracking vital signs that tell a story neither of us wants to read.
He looks terrible. Diminished. Gray. Barely the man who beat me bloody in my own bedroom just months ago.
"Jake." His voice is rough but alert. His eyes find mine immediately. "Something's wrong."
"Leaving." I settle into the chair beside his bed. "Ranch emergency. Tommy needs help with the rotation."
The lie sits heavy between us. We both know it's a lie.
"Adison?" He watches my face carefully.
"She's in good hands." I force the words out steady. "Zachary will protect her."
Richard is quiet for a long moment. Then he nods slowly.
"Don't stay away too long." The request is soft. Almost gentle.
I stare at him. This man who threatened to destroy me. Who called me a predator. Who did everything in his power to keep me from his daughter.
"When did you change your mind?" The question escapes before I can stop it. "About us."
Richard's smile is tired but real. "When you came to this concrete jungle for her."
I wait. Let the silence stretch.
"I know the ranch is everything to you." He shifts against his pillows, the movement costing him visible effort. "Twenty years you've refused every invitation I ever sent. Weddings. Funerals. Business opportunities. You always said Texas was where you belonged."
"It is." I said, wondering if I believed it.
"But you put her first." His eyes hold mine steadily. "Left everything you built. Followed her into a world that was designed to eat men like you alive. That's when I knew."
"Knew what?"
"That you actually love her." He exhales slowly. "Not as revenge. Not as a replacement for Elena. You love my daughter for exactly who she is."
The observation lands somewhere deep.
"I'm sorry." Richard's voice cracks on the words. "For Elena. For the threats. For not believing you when you told me your intentions were real."
"Richard—"
"I should have trusted you." He reaches for my hand, his grip weak but certain. "Should have trusted her. Instead I tried to control everything, and all I did was cause more pain."
I look at our joined hands. Two men who loved the same woman. Who spent twenty years carrying the weight of that history. Who somehow found their way back to something that resembles friendship.
"I would have done the same." The admission surprises me. "In your position. If someone like me showed up for my daughter."
Richard laughs. Rough. Real. The sound of old friends finally understanding each other.
"We're both fools," he says.
"Always were."
The laughter fades into something more serious. Richard's grip tightens on my hand.
"I feel it coming." His voice drops lower. "The end. Closer every day."
"Richard—"
"Take care of her." His eyes bore into mine. "When I'm gone. Promise me you'll take care of Adison."
The weight of the request settles into my bones.
"I promise."
He nods once. Releases my hand. Sinks back against his pillows with the exhaustion of someone who's said everything that needed saying.
I stand slowly. Look at this man who was my best friend, my rival, my enemy, and somehow became my friend again.
"Goodbye, Richard."
"Not goodbye." His tired smile holds traces of the man I grew up with. "Just... see you later."
I leave the hospital carrying equal measures of relief and devastation.
Manhattan shrinks in my rearview mirror. Texas waits ahead.
And somewhere in between, Adison makes her choice.
I just have to trust it's the right one.