Chapter 9
Roy watched as the dust settled along the driveway long after the truck vanished. The shovel handle bit into his palm, but he barely felt it. His jaw tightened as Mia disappeared into the house without so much as a second glance. Not even a thank-you.
Some stranger shows up with a dog and a big smile and suddenly she’s handing him the whole damn barn to build? A barn. A project that mattered. Something her father would be proud of. Something he would’ve been proud to do for her.
But she didn’t even think about asking him.
Roy jabbed the shovel into the dirt hard enough that the vibration shot up his arm, but he didn’t stop.
He’d been here for years. Helping Hal, keeping the place running, fixing what broke, mowing the lawn while she was off in the big city winning …
whatever awards city people won these days.
He’d laid the pavers for her, work any idiot with a YouTube video could do.
Did he get any praise? Encouragement? A simple hello?
But when it came to building a simple barn, did she think of him? No, that job went to one good-looking guy with broad shoulders, built like a recruiting poster, and suddenly she’s all smiles. He screamed Brotherhood even though Roy had never seen him before.
But the look fit: ex-military, squared-up stance, that quiet confidence the Brotherhood guys had. They all carried themselves as if they were still the ones calling the shots in the room.
And Mia had looked at him like she recognized him.
Like she’d never look at Roy. Not once. Not even when they worked shoulder-to-shoulder at the store.
Roy’s hands tightened around the shovel.
Roy watched the movement in the farmhouse.
Her father would be up from his nap around now.
Usually, he and Roy had a cup of coffee together and talked about what Roy was doing around the farm.
After Hal’s wife died, it was just the two of them against the world.
That is until Hal had his stroke. Roy had stepped in without being asked. Someone had to.
He remembered the day Mia came home. Lost, tired, carrying her father’s illness like a weight around her neck.
He’d been the one to step up. He got the place ready for her.
Fixed the porch rail. Cleaned out the gutters.
Made sure her father had what he needed.
He’d shown up every day, every time she called and even when she didn’t.
She used to thank him. Used to smile in a way that made him feel he was wanted.
But now?
Now, she barely looked at him unless something needed doing. Unless she wanted something done differently. Unless she was correcting him, like yesterday. Like he was stupid. Like all the work he did here didn’t matter. It made him feel worthless.
He knew everything about this land, knew her father’s routine better than she did.
After all these years, he knew how Hal liked things, how the farm worked, how it should stay.
He earned a place here. He didn’t just work here.
He belonged here. Or he used to. Before she came back and changed the rules without warning.
And now, a stranger with a cute dog and a big truck comes in, and she gives him the job. Did Caleb know her father? No. Did he know the history of this family? No.
He didn’t belong here. Roy did.
Roy took a deep breath. Maybe Mia didn’t know how much he did and how much she depended upon him. Maybe she needed a reminder of what happened when you …
He stopped the thought before it finished, but the idea lingered anyway. Quiet. Heavy. Dangerous in a way he didn’t want to examine.
When you forget who’s actually here for you.
He picked up his tools. He wasn’t finished but screw the work.
If Mia wanted a barn built by some Brotherhood guy, fine.
But she’d see soon enough.
People didn’t just walk in and belong.
Not like he did.
Roy didn’t go home after leaving Mia’s place.
He drove aimlessly for a few miles, replaying the scene until his head hurt. He parked at the neighborhood park, a place he always went to when he didn’t want to be seen. He killed the engine and let the silence wrap around him. His pulse still thudded in his ears.
A tap on his window made him jump.
His girlfriend stood outside, arms folded. She opened the passenger door and slid in without waiting for an invitation.
“I thought I’d find you here,” she said, turning to look at him. “You didn’t answer my texts.”
“Didn’t feel like talking,” he muttered.
She studied him for a few seconds. “Something happened at the farm?”
Roy exhaled. “Mia.”
Her brow lifted slightly. “What about her?”
“She had some guy over,” Roy replied. “Black truck, dog in the front seat. Broad shoulders. Walks like he owns the damn county.”
“Oh.” Her tone shifted. “Why was he there?”
“Mia gave him the barn job.”
His girlfriend leaned back slowly. “The barn job you’ve been talking about for weeks?”
“She didn’t even ask me. Just ‘Roy, get those pavers in. Roy, what are you doing? Roy. Roy. Roy.’” He slapped the steering wheel. “But when something big comes along? She forgets me.”
“After everything you do,” she whispered, rubbing his arm. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“It isn’t,” Roy bit out. “I’ve been helping her dad for years. Doing everything around that place. And she just handed the biggest project she’s ever had to some guy she just met.” He shook his head hard. “Like none of it matters.” Like he didn’t matter.
His girlfriend rubbed the back of his neck, her touch warm. Comforting. “Roy, she doesn’t value you the way she should. I’ve said that before.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what else she wants from me.”
“Nothing,” she said softly. “She wants nothing from you because she’s so used to you doing everything without asking for anything in return.”
Roy blinked hard. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “You deserve better than being treated like a background extra in her life.”
Roy looked away. His throat was tight. He hated how true that sounded.
“I’d never hurt Mia.”
He meant it. Even if part of him was starting to resent how easily she’d forgotten him.
“I’m not saying hurt her,” his girlfriend added quickly. “You know I’d never tell you that.”
He turned his head slightly. “Then what are you saying?”
She gave a small shrug. “That people forget who keeps their world running smoothly.”
Roy frowned. “Forget?”
“Disrupt it,” she said softly. “Just enough to make her notice. To make her realize you’re the one holding everything together.” Her thumb brushed across his knuckles. “Nothing big. Nothing that can’t be undone.”
Roy closed his eyes for a beat.
Was it wrong of him to want Mia to notice him? To look at him the way she looked at the stranger with the dog?
It wasn’t that long ago that they worked side by side at the hardware store when they were both in high school. She used to laugh with him back then. And Roy had a crush on her he never admitted. She was so far out of his league, but a guy could wish. Right?
Then she left town. Left the store. Put him in the rearview without ever knowing how he felt and never looked back.
And now she was back with the same smile, the same thank-yous, at least at first. But those smiles faded. She spoke to him now as if he were useful when needed, invisible the rest of the time.
Meanwhile, he’d never stopped liking her like he had when they were teenagers. Not that he would ever admit that to his girlfriend.
But today, Mia hadn’t even glanced his way before walking off with some new guy and his perfect dog.
“Roy?” his girlfriend asked softly.
“I’m thinking. What kind of disruptions?” He knew he shouldn’t be asking, but the words slipped out anyway.
Her smile was faint. Almost satisfied. “Enough to make her slow down and appreciate what she’s been taking for granted.”
Roy stayed silent. The idea shouldn’t have sounded as easy as it did.
“Come over later,” she whispered. “We’ll talk more.”
She kissed his cheek and then eased out of the truck.
Roy watched her go, his pulse racing.
Maybe she was right. Maybe Mia did need a reminder.
Nothing big. Nothing that would hurt her. Just Something small. Something that made her pause. Make her look his way again.