Chapter 4 Returning to Arizona

Sierra buzzed her assistant’s desk. “Chloe, can you come in?”

Chloe appeared almost instantly, sleek and efficient, her notepad and pen at the ready. “Yes, Sierra?”

Sierra studied her for a moment, seeing not just an assistant, but a protégé, a younger version of her own ambitious self. “Chloe, I have an unexpected family emergency. I need to leave for Arizona immediately.”

Chloe’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by her customary composure. “Of course, Sierra. What do you need me to arrange? Flights, hotels, reschedule meetings?”

“No,” Sierra said, shaking her head. “This isn’t a quick trip. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. This is your time to shine, Chloe. The Veridian account is yours. You’ve been shadowing me, you know the client, you know the strategy. I trust you completely. I’ll be reachable by cell at all times, but you are the new point person. You make the decisions. Bring me up to speed on anything critical, but otherwise, consider yourself in charge of the account. Its success or failure is on your shoulders.”

Chloe’s expression shifted, a mix of awe and fierce determination. “I won’t let you down, Sierra. I’ll nail Veridian. You can count on me.”

Sierra gave a curt nod. “I know I can. Keep me informed on your progress. Don’t hesitate to call if you hit a wall, but try to unblock it yourself first.”

With Chloe dismissed, Sierra made one final call to William Fitzgerald Sterling, the esteemed semi-retired senior partner, but still a guiding presence.

“Sterling,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “It’s Sierra. I need to take some unexpected time off. Family emergency in Arizona. My father is ill, and the ranch is in peril. I’m assigning Chloe to take over in my absence.”

Sterling’s voice, a gravelly rumble, was instantly sympathetic. “My dear Sierra, I’m truly sorry to hear that. But, you know how I feel. Family comes first. You do what you need to do. Chloe is more than capable; I’ve seen her work. I’ll keep an eye on her and the Veridian account, make sure she has all the resources she needs. Don’t you worry about anything on this end. Just focus on your father.”

A genuine wave of relief washed over Sierra. Sterling’s calm assurance was exactly what she needed. “Thank you, Sterling. That means a great deal.”

She hung up, the last professional bridge secured. Now, only the personal remained.

Sierra walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of her office, gazing out at the breathtaking vista of Manhattan. The city lights twinkled like scattered diamonds, a testament to human ambition and achievement. Below, the relentless pulse of traffic, the hum of millions of lives lived at high speed. This was her world, the world she had fought so hard to create. The ranch, far away in the arid landscape of Arizona, felt like another planet.

A bitter sigh escaped her lips. Sage Ranch. Her past, her burden, her inevitable return. She resented it with every fiber of her being, yet the thought of losing it, of severing that last, tangible link to her history, felt impossibly wrong. It was a wound she had tried to ignore, and now it was reopened and beginning to fester.

With a grim expression, Sierra returned to her desk. Her fingers, usually dancing across the keyboard with practiced ease, typed slowly, deliberately, into the flight search engine.

Departure: LaGuardia Airport (LGA)

Destination: Flagstaff Pulliam Airport (FLG)

One way.

The confirmation email popped up. The digital ticket, a stark white against the dark screen, appeared like an official judgement from a court. Flagstaff was just a little over two hours from Kingman. The name echoed in her mind. Kingman. A place she had sworn she would never return to. She closed the laptop. Before she even got up from her chair, the ghost of red dust was no longer swirling; it was already settling, heavy and familiar, on her soul.

The moment Sierra stepped out of the Flagstaff Pulliam Airport terminal, the heat slammed into her like a physical force. It was a dry, punishing blast that sucked the moisture from her throat and promised to bake the ambition right out of her bones. The air, thick with the smell of dust and sun-scorched creosote, was a world away from the humid, exhaust-laced air of a New York summer. The crisp, clean lines of her silk blouse began to wilt instantly, and the back of her neck prickled with a fine sheen of sweat. Her tailored linen trousers, so chic and effortless on Madison Avenue, suddenly felt like a wool blanket.

She instantly remembered why she’d left Arizona.

She looked up to find her ride and considered going back into the terminal. There, leaning against the rust-pocked fender of a familiar Ford F-150, was Cody. The truck was a relic, a faded turquoise ghost from a past she had meticulously walled off. Her dad had bought it the summer before she’d left for college, a proud purchase that represented everything she was desperate to escape: permanence, dirt, and a future measured in seasons instead of fiscal quarters.

Cody looked older than his twenty-seven years. The easy grin she remembered was gone, replaced by the weary set of a mouth that hadn’t smiled freely in a long time. His face was leaner, tanned to leather by the unforgiving sun, and fine lines of worry were etched around his eyes. He pushed a dusty Stetson back on his head, revealing a mop of sandy hair, a shade darker than her own.

“Sierra,” he said, his voice a low, tired drawl. He made a move to hug her. She leaned in, barely touching him, patting him on the back, and brushing her lips against his cheek. She didn’t want his dirty clothes in contact with her clean ones.

“Cody.” Her eyes flickered from his exhausted face to the decrepit truck. The passenger door was held partially shut with a bungee cord. “I’m not getting in that.”

He blinked, his shoulders slumping a little further. “It’s how I got here, Si. Still runs.”

“It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” she stated flatly, already striding towards the rental car counters, the staccato click of her Louboutins sounding with purpose on the terrazzo floor inside the terminal. Cody tagged along. Sierra efficiently secured a Nano Gray Audi Q3. When she finished, she turned to him, holding up a set of keys. “I’ll follow you.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Cody just nodded, a flicker of something, resentment, maybe, or just profound weariness, crossed his features before he turned and shuffled back toward the Ford. When the car was brought around, the air conditioning was already turned on. She slid into the leather seat, the sterile new-car smell a balm against the encroaching scent of the desert. This was her territory: controlled, clean, predictable. Before driving out of the parking garage, she adjusted the climate control until she felt the blast of arctic air-conditioning a welcome shock to her system.