Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Chesney
The impact wrench screams across the shop, metal clanging somewhere behind me as another truck gets lowered off the lift. Normally, the noise helps. The steady rhythm of work is usually enough to keep my head quiet.
But not today.
And if I’m being honest with myself, it hasn’t been enough since I got back from Sweet Briar last month.
“You gonna answer that?” Nate asks from two bays over.
I don’t look up from the engine in front of me. “Nope.”
My phone buzzes again where it sits face-up on my toolbox, and I already know who it is. Truett. Again. Third time in twenty minutes.
Nate snorts softly. “Whoever it is, they’re persistent.”
Grabbing the rag off my shoulder, I wipe grease across my hands harder than necessary. “He’ll survive.”
He hums but doesn’t say anything. The weight of his gaze is heavy on the side of my face.
Nate’s been my best friend since I moved to this town.
He’s a former Marine and built like a damn refrigerator.
The type of man who only talks when he’s got something worth saying, and unfortunately for me, he usually does.
I finally snatch the phone off the toolbox, heaving an irritated sigh. Persistent is right, and he won’t stop until I respond.
Truett: Have you thought any more about Jasper’s offer? I don’t think you should shut it down so quickly.
That was sent this morning.
Truett: Dad’s refusing to hire help again.
The timestamp shows this one came in about half an hour ago.
I grit my teeth. I’m not surprised. My father is one stubborn motherfucker, and only he would refuse to let cancer get in his way.
That ranch is all he’s ever known, and for as long as I can remember, rain or shine, in sickness and in health, he’s out there, day in and day out.
Something tightens in my chest as I read the message that came in a minute ago.
Truett: I’m serious, Chesney. I could really use a little more support from you. I can’t keep shouldering all this by myself. The money you could make from this in a year would help our family a lot. Can you, for once, not think of only yourself?
My brother’s right; I’m being selfish. Yeah, what I went through when I was a teenager was horrible and traumatic, but it was for my family too. They stayed while I left. And now Truett needs me to be there for him, and I can’t bring myself to do it. What’s wrong with me?
Not sure what to say, I lock the screen without replying. That’ll have to wait until later when I have a clearer head. Or at least until I’m not elbow deep in a pickup truck.
“Family?” Nate asks cautiously.
I shove the phone into my back pocket. “Unfortunately.”
He waits, wanting more but not rushing me. The people here and back home always ask too many questions and push for more. But not Nate. He’s patient, letting the quiet sit there until I fill it myself.
Which is exactly what I do.
“The trip home was a disaster,” I admit, ducking beneath the hood.
I’ve somehow managed to keep all this to myself since returning after Christmas, but apparently, I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Turns out, the owner of the neighboring ranch passed away sometime before Christmas and decided ruining my life from beyond the grave sounded fun.”
Nate leans against the workbench beside my bay, letting out a low chuckle. “That sounds awfully dramatic. How’d he manage to do that?”
I tighten something unnecessarily hard just to give my hands something to do. “He left half the ranch to his grandson and the other half to me.”
“You?” The surprise and confusion are evident in his tone. “I thought the two families didn’t get along.”
Lifting my gaze, I meet his from beneath the hood. “They don’t.”
His eyebrow quirks. “Why’d he leave half of it to you, then?”
I bark out a laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine, my friend.”
Nate crosses his arms. “So, what’s the problem? Can’t you just relinquish your share? It’s not like you have to oblige. The guy’s dead.”
“That’s what I said,” I mutter. “But my brother seems to think it’s a good idea that I should consider.”
“Why?”
I pause, not sure how much I want to divulge.
Nate is my closest friend and someone I’ve shared a lot with over the years, but there’re still many things I’ve kept close to my chest, simply because I’m a private guy.
But I’ve already shared this much, and without the extra information, it won’t make any sense, so I may as well.
“My family’s business ain’t doing so well,” I explain. “The money I could potentially make from this deal would really help us out.”
“I can see where your brother is coming from,” he says with a shrug. “Why are you so against the idea?”
I stare at the engine for a second too long before answering. “Because it would require me and the other guy to run his family’s ranch for a year before either of us can sell.”
He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying, then breathes out a small chuckle. “That’s objectively hilarious.”
When I glower at him, Nate holds up his hands and shakes his head, coughing to cover his laugh.
“Sorry, man. That’s terrible. Tragic, even.”
“You’re an asshole,” I grumble.
“Yeah, but you already knew that,” he muses, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Honestly, I can see where both of you are coming from. But if it could help your family that much, it might be worth at least considering.”
“You sound like Truett.” I huff, then shake my head and get back to work while ignoring the ever-present ache in my chest. Saying it out loud makes it feel more real. A year in Sweet Briar on that ranch with Jasper Smith...
My stomach twists.
Since that night he showed up on my family’s porch, I haven’t let myself think too hard about him or the news he brought.
Haven’t wanted to unpack the weird, nagging tension sitting under my skin that came from seeing him again.
But, of course, my brain chooses now to betray me.
Those dark eyes flash through my mind. His cowboy hat tipped low.
And that goddamn deep, rough voice of his saying my name for the first time in almost two decades.
Jasper’s called half a dozen times in the last month, but I’ve ignored each and every one. I’m not taking part in anything that has to do with him; already told him and my brother that, yet neither of them seems to want to accept that.
I slam the hood down, exhaling a shaky breath that’s bordering on panic. There’s no way I can do this. I can’t.
Nate watches me carefully. “You okay?”
“Fucking peachy,” I mutter under my breath before dropping my tool onto the tray and storming off toward my office.
This shit is getting to me, and I can’t handle it. How can one short visit back home cause so much distress? It’s a dumb question, mostly because no matter how long I’m there, it does a number on my nervous system. Add in running into Jasper, and I’m nearing a mental breakdown, I’m sure of it.
Although, running into isn’t really accurate. Jasper sought me out. He showed up at my family’s house with news that managed to rock my world in the blink of an eye.
Desperately needing to get my mind off him, I throw myself into all the tedious office work I always tend to avoid. One of my least favorite parts about being Nate’s assistant manager. Much to my surprise, it works for a couple of hours.
But then my phone buzzes again.
“Goddamnit,” I hiss, grabbing it out of my pocket.
Truett: Dad collapsed in the barn.
Every muscle in my body locks. I text him back so fast I nearly drop my phone.
Me: What?!
Three dots appear instantly, and I hold my breath while I wait. But then Truett’s name lights up my phone. I stare at it for a long beat before finally answering.
“Hey.” He doesn’t respond right away, but I can hear faint hospital sounds in the background, so I know my dad wasn’t successful in his attempt to avoid help. “Truett?”
“He fell last night,” he says. “Didn’t really think anything of it. Thought he just lost his balance. But then it happened again earlier in the barn.”
My heart thrashes inside my chest while words escape me.
“He’s okay,” he adds quickly, exhaustion thick in his voice. “Mostly. He’s weak. They admitted him again.”
I close my eyes. The shop suddenly feels too loud. Air compressors hissing. Radios blaring country music somewhere up front. Metal clanging against concrete. It’s too normal for the conversation I’m having. Too mundane.
“What are the doctors saying?”
There’s a long pause, like my brother is trying to pull himself together. “Since the procedure, the cancer has spread more than they expected.”
Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
“Chesney?”
“I’m here.” Barely.
Pushing back in my chair, I rest my elbows on my knees and let my head hang between my shoulders.
My dad doesn’t get sick. Not like this. That’s never been how the universe worked.
Even after Truett told me about the diagnosis, some stubborn part of my brain kept expecting him to outwork it somehow.
Like he could glare hard enough at the cancer and it’d back down out of pure intimidation.
“Chesney…” His voice cracks, and it shatters something inside me. “My gut’s telling me it’s bad this time. Really bad.”
Staring down at the floor, I scrub a hand over my mouth, feeling like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks. One thing about Truett is that he never says things unless he absolutely believes them.
“You gotta consider his offer,” he says, almost pleadingly. “I need you back home. I can’t keep doing this by myself. It’s time. It’s what Mom would’ve wanted.”
Mom.
Hearing him bring her up is a different kind of pain.