DYNASTY - kayce dutton

chapter tweleve

REAGAN STIRRED awake the next morning, the remnants of last night's whirlwind still weighing heavy on her mind. Her body felt like it had barely rested, but it was her thoughts that truly exhausted her. The drive home with Kayce had been tense, laden with unspoken words and more questions than answers. After all these years, he still cared for her—he had made that clear in ways only he could. And yet, it didn't matter. He was married. That reality hit her harder than she liked to admit, and the feelings that stirred made her chest tighten in frustration.

Rolling out of bed, Reagan pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the day ahead. She slipped on a pair of jeans that hugged her frame, a plaid flannel shirt, and her well-worn cowboy boots that had seen too many sunrises and dusty trails. Her reflection in the mirror was the same tough exterior she'd shown the world for years, but inside, there was turmoil.

As she descended the stairs, the smell of breakfast drifted through the house, drawing her toward the dining room. She moved quietly, hoping to slip out before anyone noticed her, but she should've known better.

"Baby, aren't you going to join us? I made pancakes with chocolate chips—your favorite," Evelyn's voice broke through her silent escape, the warmth in her tone unmistakable.

Reagan hesitated in the doorway. Her mother sat at the head of the table, beaming with that soft, loving smile she had always used to coax her daughter into staying just a little longer. Billy was seated beside her, already halfway through his meal, the fork in his hand pausing as he glanced up at Reagan with a critical eye.

"I can't, Mama," Reagan replied, trying to sound casual. "I've got some business I need to take care of."

Billy's gaze didn't waver. "Your mother got up early to prepare this meal for us," he said, his voice carrying that sternness Reagan had grown used to over the years.

She glanced at him, her words sharper than she intended. "Well, it seems like you're enjoying it just fine. You've got a hearty appetite—I'm sure you don't mind eating for two."

"Reagan," her mother warned softly, not looking for a fight, just peace at the breakfast table.

At the far end of the table, Mimi let out a short laugh, the old woman's eyes gleaming with amusement. "Leave her be, Evelyn. She's a busy woman. Ain't got time to sit around with the rest of us."

Evelyn sighed, her disappointment palpable. "Mom, we hardly get to have her here," she said, looking over at Reagan with a touch of sadness. "I'm just trying to enjoy having her home."

Reagan swallowed the guilt that threatened to creep up, her heart tugging at her mother's words. There was a time when she would've given anything to sit around that table, basking in her mother's affection, letting her father's critical eye roll off her back. But now, there were bigger problems. Bigger worries.

Reagan's gaze softened as she looked at her mother, who was trying so hard to keep things normal. It was rare for Reagan to be home, and Evelyn's efforts weren't lost on her, but Reagan had bigger things weighing on her mind. She leaned against the doorway, debating whether to stay.

"I'll be home for dinner, Mama," she said, offering a small smile. "I promise."

Evelyn's face brightened, and Reagan could see her mother's relief. "I'll hold you to that."

With that, Reagan stepped out of the house, the screen door creaking as it closed behind her. She breathed in the cool morning air, her thoughts already shifting to Weston. She needed answers, and she wasn't going to wait any longer.

She found him leaning against the barn, his arms crossed over his chest, as if he had been waiting for her.

"Weston," she called, striding toward him. He straightened up, his expression unreadable.