The question still hangs between us like something with weight. Violet's eyes hold mine, expectant and knowing, and I realize there's no point in maintaining a lie she's already seen through.
"Yes." The admission scrapes out reluctantly, each syllable costing more than it should. "Jake and I are together. But it has to stay secret."
Violet's expression shifts—not to triumph, which I expected, but to something unexpectedly practical. She crosses her arms and studies me with calculating attention.
"You're a terrible liar." She says it matter-of-factly, the way someone might observe that the sky is blue. "Like, genuinely awful. Your whole face changes when you're hiding something."
The observation stings because it's true. I've spent my entire life in Manhattan, crafting careful masks for careful audiences—and apparently none of it matters when the secret actually matters to me.
"Thanks for the feedback." My voice comes out sharper than I intend.
"I'm serious." Violet steps closer, her posture shifting into something almost instructional. "Walter notices everything. He'll take one look at you and Jake in the same room and know immediately." She tilts her head, assessing. "You need practice before he arrives. Urgently."
I want to argue. Want to insist that I can handle myself, that I've navigated far more dangerous waters than her brother represents. But the honesty in her voice stops me cold.
She's right. And we both know it.
"Then help me." The words surprise me as they leave my mouth. "I'll make you a deal—I'll defend you against Walter's manipulations if you keep my pregnancy hidden."
Violet's expression hardens instantly. Something flickers behind her eyes—not calculation this time, but genuine offense.
"Are you serious right now?" Her voice drops, wounded in ways I didn't anticipate. "I already warned you to protect yourself. I already told you Walter would find your secrets. That means I already chose a side, Adison. Yours."
The realization lands somewhere tender in my chest.
"An alliance shouldn't require negotiation." Violet's jaw tightens with frustration. "It should be obvious. I don't need you to buy my loyalty with favors—I'm offering it because Walter is a threat to both of us."
"I didn't mean to insult you." The apology feels inadequate, but I offer it anyway.
"Well, you did." She exhales slowly, some of the sharpness leaving her posture. "But I'll get over it. We have bigger problems than my hurt feelings."
Something shifts between us in the cooling evening air. The adversarial tension that's defined our relationship since she arrived at the ranch loosens its grip. In its place, something unexpected forms—a truce built around a shared enemy.
Walter hasn't actually wronged me yet. But he represents a threat now, and that's enough to unite two women who started as rivals.
"We should go back inside." I push off the railing, testing my healing body. "The others will wonder where we disappeared to."
Violet falls into step beside me, her heels clicking against the terrace. "Try to look less guilty when you're near Jake. It's like watching a neon sign announce your secrets."
"I'll work on it."
"You'd better."
The kitchen buzzes with conversation when we return. Tommy has cleared the dishes, and Jake leans against the counter with his arms crossed. Paige sits at the table, her expression carrying something determined.
"Just a friendly reminder: I've made my decision." Paige straightens in her chair as we enter, her voice steadier than I've ever heard it. "I want to stay longer. I work here. Learn the ranch."
Jake's expression remains unreadable. He studies her for a long moment, weighing something I can't see.
"There are conditions." His voice carries the weight of authority he wears so naturally. "You work alongside everyone else. No special treatment. No complaints when the hours are long and the work is hard."
"I understand." Paige nods eagerly. "I want to earn my place here."
"Then you can stay." Jake uncrosses his arms, and something almost like approval softens his features. "But stock up on condoms, you both. I don't need that particular worry added to my responsibilities."
The bluntness of it lands like a stone in still water. Paige's cheeks flush crimson.
Tommy's face lights up with a grin that broadcasts his intentions before he even opens his mouth. "Can I borrow some?"
Neither Jake nor I find this amusing. I feel my expression flatten into something that could wither crops. Jake's jaw tightens with paternal disapproval that seems to age him ten years instantly.
The silence stretches, awkward and heavy.
Then Zachary's laughter fills the kitchen—hearty and genuine, cutting through the tension like a blade. He doubles over slightly, one hand pressed to his chest.
"Outstanding timing, Tommy." He manages between laughs. "Truly outstanding."
Tommy's grin falters slightly under Jake's continued glare, but he doesn't back down entirely. Paige's blush deepens to something approaching purple.
"This is horrible." Violet's declaration cuts through the chaos. She plants her hands on her hips, surveying the kitchen with theatrical disgust. "All of it. The crude jokes. The romantic declarations. The entire situation."
She tosses her dark hair over one shoulder.
"Paige can do whatever she wants with her cowboy." Her voice carries the familiar edge of practiced disdain. "But I will happily return to Manhattan tomorrow. My enormous bathtub is calling. A proper manicure. Real shopping that doesn't involve feed stores."
She sweeps toward the door without waiting for responses.
"Goodnight, everyone. Try not to procreate before breakfast."
The door swings shut behind her, and I watch her go with something complicated settling in my chest.
Tomorrow, Walter arrives. Tomorrow, the brother she fears and resents will walk onto this ranch and begin cataloging every secret we've tried to protect.
I wonder what version of Violet will emerge once his shadow falls over everything. The calculating predator who pursued Jake? The wounded girl drowning in her brother's shadow? Or something else entirely—someone I haven't met yet, someone shaped by pressures I'm only beginning to understand.
Jake's hand finds mine beneath the table. His thumb traces circles across my knuckles, grounding me in the present.
Whatever comes tomorrow, we'll face it together.
That has to be enough.