DYNASTY - kayce dutton

chapter two

UNFORTUNATELY, REAGAN couldn't summon the strength to set foot onto Yellowstone Ranch. The last time she had been there, she had been just a girl, sneaking into Kayce's room where they had once found comfort, laying in each other's arms and baring more than just their souls. Those memories were tangled in warmth and pain, leaving her unsure if she could face the man who once meant everything to her.

As John and Tate trotted up the dirt path, Reagan pulled the reins on her horse to stop.

"I don't want you sticking up for me, no matter what he says," John told his grandson.

"This is the end of the road for me," Reagan said, her voice firm yet laced with hesitation.

Tate and John turned to her, and before John could respond, Tate spoke up. "You won't stay?"

"I'm afraid not, kid. I—" She shifted her gaze to John, the weight of her loss pressing heavily on her. "We just laid my brother to rest this morning. I'm only back for a few days, and I want to spend as much time with my mom as possible."

Even though she was partially lying, the truth was that facing Kayce in her current state felt impossible. John sensed her turmoil; he had felt the sorrow radiating from her the moment she stumbled upon their campfire.

"My condolences, Reagan. I had no idea," he replied, his voice steady.

"My parents hardly wanted anyone to know, let alone a Dutton. No offense, sir," she said, a hint of regret creeping in.

He shook his head, understanding her reluctance without further explanation. As she bid her goodbyes, she heard the distant sound of galloping hooves.

From afar, a worried Kayce approached, already mounted, with Rip at his side. He caught sight of John's lips moving, but his attention was drawn to the figure riding away.

Something about her felt hauntingly familiar; her dark hair whipped in the wind, leaving him unsettled.

"Who was that?" he asked, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice.

Rip was about to reveal the mystery woman's identity before he was cut off.

"A bystander," his father responded, quickly shifting the conversation. "I cleaned it best I could, but he's gonna need stitches."

"What happened?" Kayce demanded, still grappling with the image of the woman disappearing into the distance.

"I fell in the river, and Grandpa saved me," Tate said, his tone innocent.

Kayce scooped his son up, transferring him onto his horse, but his mind remained focused on the rider. The connection they once had—so powerful and vibrant—now felt like a ghost, lingering just out of reach. The ache in his gut wouldn't let up, a reminder of the unresolved past and the woman who had once been everything to him.

Behind the tree branches, Reagan spotted him from a distance—the man who had shattered her heart—cradling his son as they rode together on the same horse, a protective arm around the boy.

Maybe she had been too stubborn in refusing to see Kayce. They were adults, after all. A part of her longed to see him, and it gnawed at her, the push and pull between pride and desire.

Her heart clenched. She hated the way seeing him, even from a distance, stirred up old feelings she had tried so hard to bury. The years between them hadn't dulled the memories. Instead, they had only sharpened the edges of her regret, anger, and the love she didn't want to admit still lingered.

His laughter drifted on the wind, soft and easy as he spoke to his son, but Reagan caught it, felt the familiar pang it caused deep in her chest. He looked so natural with the boy, so much like the man she had once thought would be by her side, sharing a life they had dreamed of. A life that was never meant to be.