You thought the Season 2 finale was savage with its back-to-back “I love you” gut punches? Darling, that was just the warm-up. The official Season 3 trailer for My Life with the Walter Boys detonated online less than eight hours ago, and the internet is already a smoking crater. Two minutes and forty-three seconds of merciless emotional warfare that makes the previous seasons look like a kindergarten playdate.

This isn’t a love triangle anymore. It’s a full-blown family massacre, and Jackie Howard is standing in the middle of the carnage holding the match.

The trailer opens deceptively soft, golden sunrise over the Colorado mountains, horses grazing, the Walter ranch looking like a postcard you’d frame and hang above your bed. Jackie’s voice, fragile and cracked, floats over the quiet: “I thought choosing a future meant choosing a person. I was wrong.” The camera lingers on two plane tickets lying on the kitchen table like loaded guns: one to New York City, the other blank. Because some choices, apparently, don’t come with a return address.

Then the screen fractures.

Cole Walter storms into frame like a thunderstorm wearing flannel. The golden boy turned beautiful disaster slams his fist into the barn wall so hard the wood splinters and dust rains down. Blood drips from his knuckles as he gets nose-to-nose with Jackie. “You want to run back to your perfect little Manhattan life?” he snarls, voice raw and venomous. “Go ahead. But don’t pretend you didn’t torch everything on your way out.” Cut to his truck roaring down the driveway, kicking up gravel like bullets, and the camera swings to reveal a crooked FOR SALE sign stabbed into the front lawn. The Walter ranch, the beating heart of this entire universe, might actually be gone.

If you’re Team Alex, stop reading now, because what comes next is brutal. Sweet, earnest Alex stands in a sterile hospital hallway clutching Erin’s stuffed giraffe, tears carving tracks through the dirt on his face. He looks straight into the camera and whispers, “Tell me I didn’t lose them both.” Both. Jackie and Cole. Because loving Jackie might have just cost him his brother and the only home he’s ever known.

Speaking of hospitals, remember that ambulance siren screaming into the night at the end of Season 2? The trailer drags us right back there. George Walter lies pale and motionless, wires and tubes everywhere, while Katherine collapses against Will in the waiting room. The younger kids huddle together like frightened animals. A heart monitor flatlines. Someone screams. And Jackie’s voice, cold and distant, overlays it all: “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” The way she says it makes you wonder if she’s lying.

Then the pace turns vicious. Quick cuts hit like punches: Jackie hurling clothes into a suitcase while Danny watches in stunned silence; Jackie screaming at Katherine, “You never wanted me here in the first place!”; Jackie shoving past Cole in the hallway, him grabbing her wrist hard enough to bruise, her hissing through clenched teeth, “Let go of me before I ruin you worse than I already have.” The girl who arrived in Silver Falls wide-eyed and grieving has sharpened into something dangerous, and the trailer wants us to fear her as much as we root for her.

And just when you think your heart can’t take any more, the past comes clawing back. A sleek Manhattan townhouse. Jackie in a camel coat that costs more than the Walter family truck. A familiar male voice off-screen: “You can take the girl out of Manhattan…” The camera whips to Jackie’s face, eyes glittering with tears or triumph, it’s impossible to tell, as she finishes, “…but you can’t take Manhattan out of the girl.” Half the fandom is already screaming that she’s abandoning Colorado forever. The other half is praying it’s a fake-out. Either way, the war lines are drawn.

Then the screen literally ignites. Flames devour the barn, orange and hungry, while Cole and Alex, for the first time all trailer, stand shoulder to shoulder with garden hoses that might as well be straws against a forest fire. Soot streaks their faces. Their eyes meet for a single, loaded second, brotherhood flickering beneath the hatred. Jackie watches from the porch, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding her own ribs in place, while Katherine’s voice shatters the night: “Jackie! What have you done?!”

The music drops out. Silence so loud it hurts. Slow-motion: Jackie rising on her toes, hands fisting in a flannel shirt, blue-and-black or green, the lighting is criminal, lips almost touching, and right before impact, smash to black.

Twitter has crashed three times trying to enhance that flannel pattern. TikTok is a bloodbath. Someone already superimposed the kiss over the burning barn with “exile” by Taylor Swift playing and collected ten million views in four hours.

The final sequence is designed to murder what’s left of your soul. Jackie alone in Denver International, boarding pass trembling in her manicured fingers. Her voice, barely audible over the airport noise: “Some choices don’t break two hearts… they break twelve.” Cut to the entire Walter family on the porch watching her taxi disappear in a cloud of dust. Cole’s jaw could grind diamonds. Alex is sobbing without shame. Danny clutches his notebook like a shield. Even little Benny is crying, and that kid once laughed through a broken arm.