Chapter 7 Jesse
Jesse
I’d been back on the ranch for a month, and I wasn’t convinced the work was getting any easier.
Getting up at five in the morning was some sort of insane torture.
I blamed the cows for it. If they weren’t fed by six, they started to get loud.
If they didn’t have food by seven, they would break down fences. They were a fucking menace.
But I couldn’t deny the feeling of peace that came with rising before the sun.
The landscape was transformed in those liminal moments, the sky going on forever in a series of blues, grays, and pinks.
Pine trees, mountains, and pastures were draped in rolling mist that gave the entire place an ethereal quality that I didn’t realize I missed.
I’d forgotten how much I loved Nelson Ranch, how much I loved Montana…
And how lonely it could all feel despite the beauty.
And those feelings are what churned in my stomach as I crested the last hill west of Hell Creek.
They were made even stronger by the fact that I was surrounded by boxes, my little sedan stuffed to the gills with everything I owned.
It was proof that the life I’d worked so hard to build in Seattle was officially gone.
Mr. Whitaker had been understanding when I told him I had to go back to Seattle to collect my things.
He, under Cole’s intense gaze, agreed to give me five days for the trip without breaking the terms of my stepfather’s will.
Cole seemed relieved to have me gone for a moment, but I had a feeling he was secretly hoping I wouldn’t come back.
Part of me wasn’t sure I would come back either.
After all, it was getting harder and harder to avoid the old feelings I had lingering from my teenage years about him.
And those tight jeans… they made it really hard not to notice him.
Despite all that, living with Cole wasn’t gonna be easy.
Quitting my job had been easy. I wasn’t that attached to it.
But breaking up with Derek had been… difficult.
Mostly because I felt like an asshole. Three days after I signed the terms of the will, he stopped answering my calls and texts.
A week after that he blocked me everywhere.
The only correspondence I received was a letter two weeks later telling me that my belongings had been packed up and I needed to come get them before they were thrown in the garbage.
Clearly, Derek was through with me. And when I arrived in Seattle to get my car and my stuff, he wasn’t even home.
I’d been hoping to say goodbye to him and to apologize to him again, but I never got the chance. With everything in my car, I left my key on the kitchen table and left the apartment and my life, locking the door behind me. It wasn’t the first time I’d left a home behind.
The worst part was… I thought I should miss Derek.
We’d been together for two years after all.
But the further I drove from Seattle, the less I missed him.
By the time I arrived back in Hell Creek, I could barely remember why we’d been together for so long.
The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it hadn’t just been a convenient arrangement for both of us.
After all, Seattle wasn’t a cheap place to live and having a roommate with benefits was pretty much ideal.
I definitely wouldn’t be getting any of that on the ranch.
As soon as I pulled into town, I stopped off at the gas station, the only place you could get coffee not made at home for forty miles.
The closest franchise was clear the hell up in Missoula, and I wasn’t gonna drive an hour just for coffee.
It seemed odd though. In Seattle, there was a coffee shop every ten feet.
But here in Hell Creek people still ground their beans by hand.
I pushed open the door to the gas station, the little bell jingling overhead.
The place hadn’t changed since I was a kid.
It still had the same faded linoleum floors, same buzzing fluorescent lights, and the same rack of beef jerky by the register.
The smell of stale coffee and motor oil hit me like a punch to the gut. Pure nostalgia.
“Just a cup of regular,” I told the elderly woman behind the counter as I approached. Her white hair was pulled back in a tight bun, deep lines etched into her face from decades of Montana winters. She looked vaguely familiar, probably someone who’d known me growing up.
She squinted at me through thick glasses as she poured the coffee. “You’re the other Nelson boy, aren’t you? Jack’s stepson?”
I nodded, reaching for my wallet. “Jesse Harris, ma’am.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Heard you were back in town. Staying at the ranch with Cole.”
“That’s right,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. News traveled fast in Hell Creek. Always had.
“Hmph,” she grunted, sliding the coffee toward me. “Didn’t think we’d see you around these parts again after what you did.”
I froze, my hand halfway to the cup. “Excuse me?”
“Breaking your daddy’s heart like that. Running off without so much as a goodbye.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “And then not showing up when he was sick? That’s cold, boy. Real cold.”
My cheeks burned with shame and irritation. “You don’t know the whole story.”
“Don’t need to,” she replied curtly. “Three fifty for the coffee.”
I handed her a five, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “Keep the change.”
“Your charity don’t make up for what you did,” she called after me as I headed for the door.
I pushed outside, gulping down fresh air, my hand clenched so tight around the coffee cup I nearly crushed it.
So that’s how it was going to be. Hell Creek had me pegged as the villain.
Cole had probably made sure of that, poisoning the well while I was gone.
Not that he had to do much. The old lady was right, I didn’t show up when Jack was sick.
I never even knew he was… but I never called either.
Back in my car, I took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. It tasted like it had been sitting on the burner since dawn, bitter and burnt. Just like my homecoming.
The drive to the ranch was short, but with each mile, the knot in my stomach grew tighter.
I wasn’t sure what awaited me there. Would Cole be glad I’d come back, or disappointed?
Part of me hoped he’d given up on the ranch already, decided it wasn’t worth sharing with me.
But I knew better. Cole was nothing if not stubborn, and he’d never abandon his birthright, even if it meant putting up with me.
Plus, he was getting far too much enjoyment out of watching me struggle.
As I pulled up the long driveway, I spotted him immediately, a tall figure in a black cowboy hat, walking back to the house from the barn.
He looked up when he heard my car, his stance stiffening noticeably.
Even from this distance, I could feel the weight of his gaze as he watched me approach.
I tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach, chalking it up to anxiety rather than the real things I thought about him in the dead of night.
For a moment, he just stood there, hands on his hips, as if debating whether to acknowledge me or walk away.
I pulled up near the house and cut the engine, taking a steadying breath before stepping out. The mountain air hit me, crisp and clean, such a stark contrast to Seattle’s perpetual dampness.
“Wasn’t sure you’d come back,” Cole called out, making no move to help as I started unloading boxes from my car.
“Yeah, well, I signed a contract,” I replied, hefting a box of clothes. “And unlike some people think, I do keep my word.”
Cole’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he nodded toward my car. “That all you got?”
I glanced at my sedan stuffed with boxes. “This is my life for the past decade, so yeah. This is it.”
Something flickered across his face—pity, maybe, or judgment. I couldn’t tell and didn’t care to analyze it. I just wanted to get my stuff inside and collapse. I’d driven all night to make it back in time and my body ached from sitting for hours.
“I can’t believe you just abandoned your boyfriend like that,” Cole added, leaning against the railing as I struggled with a particularly heavy box. “Seems like you got a habit of chewin’ people up then just leavin’ them without warnin’.”
I gritted my teeth. “Would you rather I just let the ranch get donated?” I shot back. “Or maybe you just like being a dickhead about everything, huh?”
He seemed unfazed. “I’m just tellin’ the truth.”
“You wanna know the truth, Cole?” I said, tossing the box down and rounding to face him. “The truth is that Mom died and both you and Jack abandoned me.”
He scoffed, but I could see the surprise in his eyes, the realization. “We were here the whole time.”
“The hell you were,” I snapped. “The moment she died, both you and Jack clammed up and damn near didn’t speak a word to me for two years.”
“I had a ranch to run—”
“And I was fifteen!” I cried. “A kid! Do you think I knew how to process losing my only real parent in this entire world?!”
Silence.
“She died and I had no one to talk to. You and Jack didn’t know how bad things got at school when people realized I was different.
Do you have any idea what the ranch hands used to call me when you weren’t looking?
No! You didn’t ask and you didn’t care.” I put a foot on the bottom step of the porch, glaring at Cole with all the venom I could muster.
“So can you really stand there and blame me for leaving when you didn’t give a shit if I was here or not to begin with? ”
For the first time since coming back home, I saw Cole falter, his stoic facade fading. “I… I had to take care of the ranch…”
“Fuck you and your excuses,” I snapped, still glaring. “I was a child. Who was taking care of me?”
Cole’s face shifted, a mix of confusion and something else I couldn’t quite place. He stepped down from the porch, coming closer to me with his hands slightly raised like he was approaching a spooked horse.
“Jesse, I didn’t—”
“Save it,” I cut him off, turning back to my car. “I’m not here for your pity or your excuses. I’m here because I’m trying to make it up to Jack, to do right by him. For one year. That’s it. Then I’ll take my fund and you’ll never see me again, just like you’ve always wanted it.”
I grabbed another box from the backseat, my muscles protesting the weight.
Even after a month, my hands were still bandaged and tender, each day adding another layer of blisters that never seemed to heal.
But I gritted my teeth through the pain.
I didn’t want to give Cole something else to rag on me about.
Cole stood up on the porch for a long moment, watching me struggle. Then, to my surprise, he moved forward and took the box from my arms.
“All these goin’ to your room?” he asked gruffly.
I blinked at him, thrown off by this small act of kindness. “I don’t need your help, Cole.”
“I know you don’t,” he said, his tone almost normal. “But I’m helpin’ anyway.”
There was no arguing with him. The man was a stubborn ass through and through. “Yeah. My room,” I replied at last.
Cole and I worked in silence for nearly twenty minutes, carrying boxes into the house and up to my room. It felt surreal having him help me, especially after our argument. The weird truce between us was fragile, and I was afraid to say anything that might break it.
When the last box was stacked against the wall of my childhood bedroom, Cole lingered in the doorway, his hat in his hands. I pretended to be busy organizing things, not wanting to acknowledge whatever moment was happening between us.
“Jesse,” he finally said, his voice unusually quiet. “I never thought about it that way.”
I looked up, surprised by the admission. “What way?”
“That you were just a kid when your mom died.” He twisted his hat in his hands, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I was eighteen, and Dad stopped working and everything fell on my shoulders. The ranch, the finances, all of it. I guess I never stopped to think about what you were going through.”
I didn’t know how to respond. After years of anger and resentment, I wasn’t prepared for anything resembling an apology from Cole Nelson. Not yet.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said, turning back to my boxes.
“It does matter,” he insisted. “What you said... about the ranch hands. What did they say to you?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “You really want to know? After all this time?”
Cole’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.
“Faggot. Queer. Fairy. Take your pick.” I met his eyes, challenging him to look away. “Every day after school, walking home from the bus. Whispers when I’d walk by the bunkhouse. Notes shoved in my saddle.”
Cole’s face darkened. “Who?”
“Does it matter? They don’t even work here anymore.” I shrugged, trying to act like it didn’t still hurt.
“I should have known,” he muttered. “I should have done something.”
“You were busy saving the ranch,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Like you said.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Through the window, I could see the sun finally rising fully above the horizon.
“Evelyn’s got breakfast ready,” Cole finally said. “Whenever you’re done up here.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. After he left, I sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
My same old bed, with the same quilt my mother had made before she died.
The room was exactly as I’d left it, like a museum exhibit of my teenage years.
Dad hadn’t changed a thing, not even after I’d been gone for over a decade.
I wondered if he’d come in here sometimes, looking at the posters on the walls, the books on the shelves, remembering the boy who’d left without saying goodbye.
The thought made my chest ache, but there was anger behind it too.
Why did he abandon me? Why did he abandon Cole too?
What kind of father does that to his children?
Suddenly, and without my permission, Cole and I had a lot more in common than I thought. But I still wasn’t ready to forgive him. Or Jack for that matter. Or even… my mother. This was all her fault, anyway. If she hadn’t died, then… then none of this would’ve happened.