When we’re almost finished filling in the grave, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing Callum’s number. I pass the phone over to Riona.

“Hello?” she says.

I can hear the buzz of Callum’s voice, but not actually make out the words. I watch Riona’s face as she listens, her dark brows drawing together in a frown.

“Alright,” she says. “Thanks for telling me.”

She ends the call and hands the phone back to me.

“What did he say?”

“They found Josh.”

I help Riona mount Penny once more. I climb up on Brutus, leading Horatio behind me. He trots along cheerfully, now that he has no load to carry.

“They found his car in airport long-term parking,” Riona says. “He was in the front seat, dead. It looks like he shot himself in the head.”

“It looks like it?” I ask.

Riona shrugs. “So they say.”

I frown. “They think he was trying to get a flight out of town . . . and what? He lost his nerve? Figured your family would catch up with him one way or another, so he might as well just end it?”

“I guess,” Riona says.

I let out a long breath, thinking.

“So what now?” I say, at last.

“I guess . . . I go home,” Riona replies.

It’s what I was expecting. But her words hit me hard anyway.

I don’t want Riona to leave. And I don’t think that’s what she wants, either. Not really.

“You could stay,” I say to her.

Riona makes an impatient, dismissive sound. “And do what?” she says. “Become a rancher? I love my job.”

“Do you?” I say.

She looks defensive. “Of course I do.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

She tosses her hair back, narrowing her eyes at me. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you’re good at your job. And I think it keeps you busy. But I don’t think that you’re actually that attached to building up the Griffin empire.”

I see that green fire flaring up in her eyes again. I know I’m pissing her off, but I don’t care.

“You spend a few weeks with me, and you think you know what’s best for my life?” Riona demands. “You think you know better than I do?”

“I do know you, Riona,” I say, calmly. “You think you’re independent and invulnerable. You think you want power in your family. I think you need something much more personal than that.”

“What?” Riona demands.

“You need to be loved,” I tell her. “You’re not above it, any more than I am. You’ve been happy here with me. Happier than you are at home.”

Riona stares at me, lips pressed together. I can tell she’s angry, but she didn’t throw back an answer as quickly as I expected.

She swallows hard, and then replies, “I do like it here. But I’m not going to abandon everything I’ve worked for in Chicago. I want that partnership. I earned it. I’m grateful for everything you did for me . . . everything your family did. But I don’t belong here. This is your home, not mine.”