Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jack
I’m not too proud to admit defeat. Paperwork is my least favorite thing, but it’s all I can really do right now.
It’s a hard pill to swallow, not being able to be as active and hands-on as I normally am. I have to listen to my body, though, because I’m not going to risk being out longer than necessary.
If I can’t be out there lifting bales of hay or hammering boards into place, I’ll do the next best thing: tackle the mountain of paperwork that’s been piling up. With all Brynn has on her plate, this was the least of her worries, I’m sure.
I can go through it, like I told her earlier. It’s part of the job I was hired to do even if I hate it.
Friday morning, I walk into the office on the first floor of the old farmhouse.
I’d gotten quite a bit done yesterday, but there’s still so much to do.
I sit down in the leather chair in front of the old oak desk.
I pull open the first drawer and immediately regret it.
Receipts, invoices, and random scraps of paper spill out like a waterfall. I let out a low whistle.
“No wonder she’s been stressed.”
The morning passes in a blur of sorting and filing. It’s slow going, and every so often, I have to stop and catch my breath, my lungs still protesting from the fire. But it feels good to do something useful, to make even a small dent in the chaos.
My mind keeps drifting, though. Back to Brynn.
To the way she kissed me in the barn, her hands roaming my body like she wanted to devour me.
It’s all a bit much. I’d shut my heart off a long time ago, convinced that it was safer that way.
And in a matter of days, she’s managed to melt the ice around it.
She’s in my head. She’s been in my head since the moment I touched her, since the moment she looked at me with those wide, uncertain eyes, her breath catching when my hands skimmed her skin. I tell myself it was just one night.
But I want it to be more.
I can still feel her. The way her body fit against mine, the way her fingers dug into my shoulders like she was holding on for dear life. The way she whispered my name like it was something sacred, something that belonged to her. And maybe, in that moment, it did.
I hadn’t expected it to be like that. I hadn’t expected to lose myself in her, to feel something more than just heat and desire.
But when I kissed her, when I pulled her beneath me, it wasn’t just about wanting her—it was about needing her.
Like she was something I’d been missing without even knowing it.
That scares me more than I’d like to admit. It’s too soon, too fast. I don’t want to rush into anything, not when there’s so much at stake. But the thought of her, of us…it’s hard to push it aside.
Focus, Renfrew. Stop distracting yourself.
I’m knee-deep in financial records when I come across a folder tucked away at the back of the desk. It’s locked, but the key is taped to the underside of the drawer. Curious, I open it and start flipping through the papers inside.
My stomach twists as I read. It’s a loan agreement dated several years back. Larsa, Brynn’s mom, had taken out a second mortgage on the ranch. The reason listed in the paperwork, which makes my chest tighten, is medical bills. Breast cancer treatment.
I sit back in the chair, running a hand through my hair. She must have done this to make sure her husband wouldn’t be burdened with the debt after she passed. A lump forms in my throat as I think about the kind of strength that must have taken.
As I go through the rest of the folder, it becomes clear that Brynn has been quietly paying off the loan ever since. There’s no way her dad knows about this; he would’ve fought her on it tooth and nail. She’s been carrying this weight on her own, all while trying to keep the ranch afloat.
I close the folder and sit there for a long moment, staring at the desk. Brynn’s been through so much, and yet she keeps going, keeps fighting. It’s humbling, and it makes me want to fight for her, too.
John walks into the office, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. I barely look up from the papers spread across the desk, but I can feel him watching me. He leans against the door frame, arms across his chest.
“How are you holding up?” John asks.
“Fine. I’m not sure why I thought paperwork was the best thing to do.”
He exhales, stepping further into the office, his hands resting on his hips as he studies Jack for a long moment.
“That’s enough to drive anyone crazy.”
I chuckle and nod.
“I appreciate what you did, running into that barn like that. Most people wouldn’t have risked it,” John continues.
I just nod again, my jaw tight. An awkward silence stretches between us, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. John clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Insurance adjuster will be here later. Figured you’d do the walk-around with me?” he adds.
“Yeah. I found the last appraisal paperwork, the structural reports, and the inventory logs. Should be everything they need.”
“Good. That’ll help.”
I lean back in my chair, running a hand over my face before dropping it to my lap.
“Any idea who started it?” I ask.
John exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Sheriff’s looking for Lane. Says he’s the most likely suspect, but no one can seem to find him.”
“That’s who I would look for, too.”
My expression doesn’t change, but I nod slowly, absorbing the information. Another silence lingers, thick and heavy. John looks toward the window, out at the charred remains of the barn, then back at Jack. His mouth twists into a sad half-smile.
“That barn was built a long time ago. Hell, I remember my granddad telling me stories about raising it. We’re lucky it wasn’t worse, but…” He shakes his head, voice quieter now. “Still a damn hard loss.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. We both just sit with it for a moment, the weight of it settling between us.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” he says before he walks out of the office.
I go back to digging through the paperwork.
There’s still a mountain of things that need filing, and it would be easier to handle if we switched everything to digital.
I turn on the desktop that’s currently sitting on the old wooden desk.
It looks fairly new, so I’m hopeful I can switch the financials to QuickBooks and set up some Excel spreadsheets to get this all way easier than the current filing system.
I blow out a breath and stare out the window.
I know why Brynn didn’t do this before, it’s overwhelming as all get out. Maybe my getting injured in the fire is a blessing; there’s no telling what else is being overlooked here.
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. Brynn appears in the doorway, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. “Hey,” she says, leaning against the frame. “What are you up to?”
I glance at the mess of papers spread out before me. “Just trying to make sense of all this.”
She steps closer, her eyes scanning the desk. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Part of the job,” I say firmly. “Bill should’ve done it. It should never have been you.”
“He hated the paperwork. Always said the numbers made him drink.”
“I feel the same way about it.”
“Mom did it for so long and had her own little system,” she says softly as she looks out the window. “Bill tried to take over after she died, but I told him I could do it instead.”
“You’ve been doing this all on your own for too long.”
She looks at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods. “I don’t mind it, but thank you.”
I watch her as she turns to leave, my heart tugging in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. She’s strong, yes. But she doesn’t have to be strong alone. Not anymore.