Chapter 8
TILLY
“Get out of the car,” Ash pleads, tugging once again at my seat belt.
It digs into my neck as I wiggle away from him, downright refusing. “Not a chance. I can’t believe you’d take me here. This is not Maggie’s diner.”
“You knew it wasn’t the moment we left town. Don’t act like you didn’t recognize where we were going fifteen minutes ago.”
“I was hoping that I was wrong.”
“Come on, Tilly. Don’t you miss the place? Don’t think about this as you coming here for a job, but really so that you can see the horses again.”
I swat my brother’s hands away and dig my elbow into his stomach. He backs up a few steps, groaning.
“This is the last place I want to visit, Ash. The horses here will just have to be left to suffer.”
“I’ve already talked to Jed on your behalf. They were expecting us fifteen minutes ago.”
Seething, I scrub a hand down my face. “You’re such a dick.”
“For trying to get you a job doing something you love? Yeah, sounds real dickish,” he mutters, reaching forward once again.
This time, I don’t shove him away when he reaches to undo my seat belt. It flies up my body and into place behind my shoulder before I slowly climb out.
I’ve done a fantastic job of ignoring the ranch when we were driving up the road, but now that we’re here without anywhere else to look, that’s impossible.
It’s like going back in time, but instead of being reminded of the happiness I would get from coming here, all I feel is dread, knowing that it means I’m once again in close proximity to Rowe.
After our little spat in the rodeo parking lot last week, I’m not entirely interested in going for round two.
It’s a real shame that his home is so beautiful.
It’s one of the most desirable pieces of land in Alberta, and his parents have done a great job of increasing that beauty over the last decade.
From the new trees planted alongside the paved road winding through the property to the upgraded exteriors of nearly every structure I’ve seen so far, it’s clear they’ve dumped a shit ton of money here.
The last time I was here, they were only just planning where they were going to put the modular homes for the long-term staff. A ranch this size should have its own vet living on-site, so if they still have Katie, I assume she’s living somewhere on the property.
I shouldn’t be so curious. Why would it matter to me how many trainers work and live here now or if the cabin up past the stream is still empty. Who cares? Not. Me.
“Jed hates me, Ash. Unless you bribed him with something, I doubt he’d willingly offer me a job here,” I say, pulling myself together.
My brother shuts the door behind me. “He doesn’t just hate you. That douche hates everyone.”
“Oh, I’m not nervous anymore, then.”
“You have the job from connections alone. I doubt he’s even going to be around to talk with us. We could probably just stop the first wrangler we see and ask him to get us the keys to one of the trailers if you want.”
“Mm, that would be great, actually.”
Ash grumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch before taking me by the elbow. We move up the road and to the worn, dirt path leading up to the ranch house.
The screen door rattles with the breeze, clapping shut every few beats. Ash snags it and holds it open for me to go inside first. I immediately shake my head, digging my heels into the ground.
“Really?” he asks bluntly. I shrug. “You’re unbelievable sometimes.”
With a smug smile, I say, “Surprise.”
My brother ignores me and takes the lead. I kick my boots off and follow slowly. My socks droop down my ankles and bunch at my toes, the material thick enough to cushion my steps.
“You don’t have to sneak in like a naughty adolescent,” Faye Carrigan says, her voice smooth like expensive whiskey.
I almost jump out of my skin and spin toward the kitchen archway. This house is the furthest from open concept, and I swear I can feel the wall behind me breathing down my neck when I meet the waiting eyes of Rowe’s mother.
“I wasn’t sneaking per se.”
Her black-as-night hair is pulled into a low bun that rests at her neck, and not a single piece is lifted from her head, like even her flyways are too scared to piss her off. I should be too, but my fight-or-flight response has been malfunctioning for days now.
“You were sneaking. There’s no need to lie. Come, I’ve got rolls cooling,” she demands.
Ash hesitates for all of half a second before pushing past me behind her. The asshole knows she’s always liked him more than me.
“You like blueberry jam, right, Ash?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I scrunch my nose on instinct, my stomach turning at the mention of blueberries.
“You’re still unable to hide your emotions, Tilly,” Faye snips.
Meeting Ash’s humoured gaze, I mouth, “How did she see that?”
He discreetly points to the back of his head with two fingers, and I have to cover my mouth to keep from letting her see me find humour in her kitchen. Laughter? In this house? Blasphemy.
Mrs. Carrigan gathers two rolls onto two tiny plates painted with wildflowers. She rips both open but only slathers one of them with jam. The other, she smears butter over. Steam evaporates from both of them. They look damn near as good as they smell.
With a blunt exhale, she hands us each a plate. “Sit at the table.”
Not wanting to get a wooden spoon to the ass, we both do as she says. Once the plates are in front of us, I take my hat off and set it on the table while Ash dives right in. The only hat he ever wears is a ratty old baseball cap that is currently getting bleached in the sun on his dash.
“You should know that I didn’t send Ash out to get me a job. I’d have shown up here myself instead,” I tell Faye, needing to fill the quiet.
“Oh, I would have expected nothing less. Everything was done much too politely to have your fingerprints on it.”
Yikes. “Right. Well, I don’t need the job.”
“Yes, she does. And she’ll take it,” Ash speaks for me, not noticing the crumbs on his chin and collar.
I try to extend my spine as much as I can in this hard chair. With my shoulders pinned back, I meet Faye’s narrowed eyes. They’re the same shade of grey as her son’s.
“I’m really—”
She lifts a hand, cutting me off. “The job is already yours, so you can stop arguing. Jed’s out, but I’m assuming you already know what you’ll be doing without needing him to explain it. You’ve always been good with the horses here, and I expect that you’ve only gotten better over the years.”
I clamp my teeth together once before nodding. Ash’s stare is heavy on me as I wrangle back every single snappy comment that wants to spew from my lips. Her choppy, no-bullshit tone leaves little room for me to try and argue further, not that I’d want to keep going anyway.
Faye isn’t a woman who takes shit from anyone, let alone the woman who she believes is completely responsible for her son’s criminal record and time spent in prison.
“Right. I have.” I nudge the roll in front of me, and Ash takes it without me needing to ask. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow. Be here at sunrise, and I’ll make sure someone is outside the house to help you move into your trailer.”
My mouth pops open, nothing but hot air escaping me. It’s Ash who speaks, half choking on a bite of buttered roll.
“Her trailer?”
“The groomer’s trailer is sitting empty. Why wouldn’t Tilly move into it?” Faye asks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Scooting my chair closer to the table, I say, “I don’t need a trailer. I’m back at home with my parents. The drive here isn’t long from the lake.”
“It comes with the job. You can take it or walk away.”
“Really, Mrs. Carrigan, there’s no need for me to stay here. Let someone else move into the trailer,” I ramble.
Her features tighten as she takes the empty plate once covered with a jam-slathered roll. She digs her eyes into mine and nearly has me apologizing for daring to argue with her over this.
“You’ll live in the groomer’s trailer. It’s settled.”
I fold my hands in my lap and tap a finger to my knuckle.
Something teetering into panic territory expands in my chest, leaving no room for anything, let alone my lungs.
I glance behind me and through the archway, half expecting Rowe to jump out with that rugged laugh of his.
There’s nobody there. Just this heavy silence that’s sticking to my skin.
Ash knocks his knee against mine beneath the table to try and snag my attention, but I ignore him. When I push to my feet, I take the now empty plate that was in front of me and silently carry it to the sink. It clatters loudly enough to cut through the room.
“I’ll be here tomorrow, then,” I tell her.
Faye dips her chin in acknowledgment before turning to the plate in the sink. Once she reaches for it, I take the opportunity to slip out of the room. Fuck waiting for Ash to catch up. I’ve got my boots back on and the screen door flying open quick enough to freak me out.
The familiar sound of hooves clopping on dirt should settle me, but right now, it has me picking up the pace. Something about being here—alone at that—has the hairs on my neck lifting. Ash’s car is close; if I can just make it there before any of those blabbermouth cowboys see me, I should be fine.
“Wait up!” Ash calls.
His sneakers are much quieter than my boots as he bounds over the dirt, chasing me.
“This is all your fault,” I snap at him.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were going to have to live here.”
A few feet from his car now, I spin around and jab my finger into his chest at the same time he stumbles to a stop. “You get to be the one to tell Mom that I’m moving out already. I’m not going to be the one to break her heart this time.”
“I really didn’t mean to screw anything up. You needed a job, and we both know you wouldn’t have come here and asked yourself. You’re too prideful for that.”
“I’d rather wash tables at Maggie’s.”
He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “We both know that isn’t true. You’re mad, fine. But don’t lie to me.”
“I can’t live here.”
“Let’s get in the car and talk about this on the way home, Tilly,” he pleads softly.
I let my shoulders fall half an inch. “There’s nothing more to talk about. I can’t back out of this now.”
“Just get in.”
He reaches around me to pull the door open, and I clamp my lips together while slipping inside. Once he’s shut the door, I hastily yank my seat belt across me and dig it into the buckle, my grip hard enough to leave imprints in my fingers.
I’ve never been sure exactly how much Ash knows about what happened after Rowe went to prison, but the longer I’m home, the more confirmation I’m getting that the answer is not much. If he had, I don’t think he’d be so eager to find me a job here.
But then again, my brother may be my blood, but his friendship with Rowe has been just as strong without needing that tether. He’s connected to both of us in a way that I used to love.
Now, I hate it as much as I hate him.