5. HAYLEY
Chapter five
HAYLEY
A few hours earlier ...
I sit in the passenger seat of the police car, embarrassment crashing over me in waves as we drive away from what I've always considered my home. The argument with Austin keeps replaying in my head, each moment making me wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
"I'll call them myself. We'll see who they believe – the rightful owner or the trespasser." Ugh, did I really say that?
Please, someone – take me back to that moment. My face feels hot enough to fry an egg, and I know I must be tomato red. I stick my head out the window, desperate for the cool night air to soothe my burning cheeks.
I can't even bring myself to look at Santiago. The silence in the car is deafening, and I’m grateful for it. But as if fate hasn't tormented me enough today, Santiago chooses that moment to speak up.
"So, Hayley," he says, his eyes flicking to me before returning to the road. "You back for good this time, or are you just visiting?"
I swallow hard. "I'm... still thinking about it," I lie. The truth is, I've packed up my entire life in the city, ready to come home for good. But now that I know what's really going on, I'm not so sure anymore.
Desperate to change the subject, I ask, "What about you, Santiago? You ever leave Redstone?"
He chuckles. "Nah, never saw the need. I went to community college, and became a cop. Got married, got four kids now, with another on the way."
"Wow, that's...amazing " I say, surprised, but at the same time happy for him.
We reminisce about our high school days for a while, the familiar stories providing a welcome distraction.
"And he ended up moving down south, we haven't seen him since then," he finishes about one of the guys I remember only a little.
"Wow…" I mumble, processing all the information. So, one out of our set has turned into a cop, and the other has decided to steal eggs and make it to the front page of the local newspaper. I’m somewhat amused until Santiago steers the conversation back to me.
"You know, Austin – the guy you had the run-in with? He moved here about four or five years ago, a couple of years after you left for college. He's a good guy, Hayley. He’s a real stand-up fella."
I scoff. "Yeah, he seemed real stand-up, " I say sarcastically.
Santiago sighs. "Have you been able to contact your folks yet?"
A twinge of guilt shoots through me at his question. The truth is, I've barely spoken with my parents recently. Ten years ago, they'd fallen victim to a scam that just about cost them everything, including the ranch. We'd managed to hold onto it, but only through incredible sacrifice. I'd vowed then to become a lawyer, to make sure no one would ever take advantage of my family again. I'd worked very hard, earning a full scholarship to a university in the city. I left Redstone with big dreams and even bigger promises.
But life has a way of getting in the way of the best-laid plans. Between struggling to stay afloat in a new city and not wanting to burden my parents, I've rarely made it home. For the first few years, we video-called and chatted a lot. But as time passed and my workload increased, our communication dwindled to occasional calls and emails.
I remember my parents mentioning once that they felt lonely on the big, empty ranch. But I'd been so focused on law school, the bar exam, and finding a job that time just slipped away from me. I'd lost sight of what's important. Now that I think about it, I once got an email mentioning them wanting to travel the world someday. I never imagined they'd sell the house to do it.
"In the end, was it all worth it?" I mutter under my breath, regretting leaving a bitter taste in my mouth about all the times I could have spent with them, but didn’t. The people here know my parents better than I know them. How pathetic, I realize.
Santiago's voice snaps me back to reality. "Hayley? You got a place to stay tonight?"
I manage a weak smile. "Oh, um, you can drop me at a hotel. I'll figure it out."
"No problem," he says, and I can't be more grateful that he doesn't ask more questions.
As we drive through town, I realize I've forgotten one crucial detail: it's tourist season in Redstone. The streets are bustling with visitors, and every motel and guesthouse we pass has a glaring "No Vacancy" sign.
Santiago drives me around, and each time we pass a local, the same exchange plays out:
"Santiago, making rounds, aren't ya?"
"You know it!"
"Who's the pretty lady?"
"Martha's daughter!"
"Oh, that wee thing? She's even prettier now! Tell your mom I said hi!"
The warm greetings and casual conversations still make me uncomfortable. After so long in the city, the small-town familiarity feels almost alien.
Finally, we pull up to the last hotel in town – my last hope. I approach the receptionist, who greets me with a bright smile.
"I'm so sorry, honey," she says, her face falling. "We're all booked up. Tourist season, you know?"
The last of my energy drains away. I can't even sleep in my car – it's still broken down on the side of the road. With a jolt, I realize I haven't even called a repair company. My thoughts have been too scattered.
I excuse myself, stepping outside to try my parents one more time. "Please, for the love of Pete, pick up this time," I whisper, pressing the phone to my ear.
The first attempt is met with silence. On the second try, it starts ringing. And then, miraculously, I hear my mom's voice.
"Hayley? Sweetheart, is that you?"
Suddenly, I'm a little girl again, fighting back tears. "Mom? I... I'm here, back home. I went to the ranch, but..."
We switch to video call, and seeing their faces – tanned and relaxed – makes my heart ache. They confirm everything Austin and Santiago have told me. They'd sent me an email about selling the ranch, not wanting to bother me during my final year of law school. But in my whirlwind of classes and studies, I must have missed it.
The guilt intensifies. I can't bring myself to tell them I've quit my job and come home for good. Because there is no home anymore.
I choke back tears without them noticing and ask about their trip. They're in Hawaii, living their dream. And, like Santiago, they sing Austin's praises.
"If you need a place to stay, I'm sure Austin would let you use the cottage behind the main house," my mom suggests.
Annoyance flares in my chest. Why does everything have to revolve around him?
After saying goodbye, I return to Santiago, who is leaning against his car.
"No luck?" he asks, though he clearly already knows the answer.
I shake my head.
"Well," he says, "looks like you're coming home with me. Marcella will be thrilled to see you again."
I start to protest, but Santiago won't hear it. "Come on. It's late, you're exhausted, and my wife would kill me if she found out I left you with nowhere to go."
Finally, I relent.
Santiago's house is a whirlwind of activity. Four kids and three dogs swarm us as we enter, their excited voices filling the air.
"Dad! Dad, look what I did!"
"Dad is back!"
"Daddy did you buy anything!"
"Charlie, give me back my book!"
But as soon as they see me, the children's screams settle, their eyes widening with curiosity at the sight of a stranger.
"Kids, this is Miss Hayley. She went to school with your mom and me," Santiago explains.
Marcella appears from the kitchen, and I am thrilled to recognize her from our high school days. She envelops me in a warm hug as if no time has passed at all. She was in my chemistry class if I remember.
Warmth and the mouthwatering smell of homemade tamales fill the house. As we sit down to eat, I nearly cry at the first bite – I hadn't realized how hungry I was.
Conversation flows easily around the table, the kids asking non-stop questions about life in the big city.
"Is there a lot of horses over there?"
"When I'm big, I'm also going to go to the city."
"Why are there…"
For a while, I forget about all the stress and confusion of the day and enjoy the sweet and loud family.
But as I lie in the guest room that night, my gaze fixed on the ceiling, I realize one big problem.
I can't sleep.
It's almost like a switch has been turned on, preventing even a wisp of sleep from coming my way. My mind races with everything that has happened, everything I've learned. And at the center of it all is Austin – the gray-eyed cowboy who's bought my childhood home and unknowingly turned my world upside down.
As I toss and turn, my initial embarrassment gives way to frustration and then anger. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't be homeless, in pain, and completely lost.
Deep down, I know I'm only looking for someone to blame. But in that moment, I don't care.
"Stupid, smug, infuriating, and handsome jerk," I mutter into my pillow. In fact, it’s that kind of handsome that brings on weak knees.
As much as I want to call him an ugly punk, the truth is the jerk is handsome.
But even as I seethe, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers that there is nothing I can do about the house. And whether I like it or not, it seems Austin is going to play a significant role in whatever comes next.
With a heavy sigh, I close my eyes, silently praying for sleep to come. Tomorrow is a new day, and I have a feeling it's going to be just as complicated as this one has been.