Chapter 4
Four
JASON
“They’re here!”
Luke’s excited shout echoed from the side of the house and signaled that his sister, Toni, was back from the airport, picking up her soon-to-be husband, who was coming home permanently. The two were getting married today, and it blew his mind that his sister, both of his sisters had found that special someone in their lives.
Jason’s family lined up together, waiting, and sure enough, Toni and Derek came around the corner – both dressed to the nines. Derek was in his Air Force dress uniform, and he’d never seen his sister look happier at that moment and swallowed the lump in his throat at seeing Toni’s joy.
He glanced at Becca who was holding hands with her husband, Travis, met Luke’s bright smile, and Matthew’s playful one, and felt a painful smile touch his heart. He wanted to feel just the excitement—the joy of welcoming Toni’s soon-to-be husband home for good—but beneath it all, there was something deeper.
Something heavier.
The weight of an absence.
His parents should be here.
“Welcome to our family, Derek,” Becca said with a warm smile. Travis, Becca’s husband, extended a hand, his grip firm, his eyes steady. “Welcome… brother.”
The word carried weight. It wasn’t just a greeting—it was an oath: a silent understanding that family wasn’t just blood but the bonds they chose to forge.
Luke followed, repeating the gesture, his grip firm. “Welcome, brother .”
Matthew stepped up next, his expression solemn but eyes dancing with joy. “Welcome, brother .”
Finally, Jason stepped forward to welcome Derek Thorne into the family and lingered, holding his hand but shifting his weight slightly.
“Welcome, brother ,” Jason began, but his voice faltered. He glanced at Toni, saw the emotion in her eyes, and knew she was thinking the same thing as him. His father should be walking her down the aisle – not him.
“Can I walk my sister down the aisle?” Jason asked her husband-to-be, his tone raw with emotion. “She said ‘no,’ but I’m asking you . This is my one chance.”
“Jason…” Toni started, her voice tinged with exasperation and affection. She had said no because he wasn’t her father; he was her brother, and this was just a small ceremony, nothing formal.
“Please,” Derek said firmly, nodding. “I’m only getting married once in this life, and I want to do right by Toni.”
This simple gesture meant a lot to him—to both of them.
Derek stepped away, giving Jason his silent approval. Jason turned to Toni, extending his arm with a crooked smile that barely hid his feelings. He was going to be a mess if he didn’t find a way to lighten the mood between all of them.
“I like your husband-to-be,” Jason whispered, his voice low and steady, a rare softness in his tone. Things were still tough sometimes between them, and he knew Toni bristled at being told what to do. He was trying to do better, to be a brother instead of a boss . “Good choice.”
Toni’s lips trembled for just a moment before she hooked her arm through his. She gave his bicep a firm squeeze, her silent way of saying thank you.
The farm was a perfect place for his sister to be married. He’d rented folding chairs for the event and created a makeshift aisle that Becca insisted be scattered with petals – and they grabbed every wildflower and hit every florist shop in the area to make sure there were plenty. The makeshift aisle, lined with folding chairs and scattered petals, suddenly became something sacred. Jason guided Toni forward, step by step—a shared memory they would have always—carved into time.
It was perfect.
And yet, as he walked beside his sister, a strange sense of loneliness crept in. He could feel it. Something was missing, and during this time of joy, he felt a strange emptiness.
At the other end of the aisle, Derek waited, surrounded by a group of men—the staff at Flyboys. Their Air Force dress uniforms were pristine, their laughter easy, their presence commanding. These were former pilots who had seen the world, who carried each other through the worst of times, and came out the other side with unbreakable bonds. Jason recognized that kind of brotherhood, even if he’d never been a part of it.
He’d stayed for the farm. For the family. For a duty that felt just as heavy as any medal pinned to a uniform.
And yet…
Would it ever be enough?
Becca had married. Toni was getting married. Luke would marry someone someday. Matthew would never marry – but never lacked for female companionship, and Jason was thirty-three years old now. He didn’t want to be alone forever. He wanted something more, a person to share his life with just like his siblings.
At that thought, as he handed Toni’s hand in marriage to Derek, Jason caught himself looking around for the first time for a familiar face. And pinched his lips together.
There.
Caitlin Barnes was there at the back of the throng of chairs to celebrate Toni’s marriage with his family. Didn’t she have anyone? She was always coming around when she was a kid and then disappeared for what felt like the longest time, only to reappear again.
And Caitlin’s eyes turned away from Toni to meet his.
They widened—just barely—before they steeled, turning sharp as flint.
Interesting.
To his surprise, Caitlin looked away once again. His younger brother had somehow slipped from the front row, appearing beside Caitlin with an easy, mischievous grin.
Jason bit back a smirk as Caitlin scowled at his brother, rolling her eyes in exasperation before jerking her chin toward Toni—silently telling Matthew to pay attention to the bride.
Good.
Jason exhaled, something settling in his chest. At least some things never changed.
And a small voice deep within him suddenly spoke up, asking a question he never thought to ponder on his own:
But what if they did?
* * *
The afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light over the gathering. Music played a steady, cheerful rhythm underscoring the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. The celebration was in full swing—dancing, drinking, talking. It was a moment of joy, of life, of togetherness, and yet Jason felt like an outsider looking in.
A week ago, he had been in a shouting match with Toni. Both of them throwing words like weapons, neither willing to back down. They had been standing in the middle of the barn, voices echoing off the wooden walls, tension thick enough to choke on. He had been so darn stubborn, convinced that shouldering everything on his own was the only way to honor their parents' legacy.
Then, she had cut him down with a single sentence.
"Divide the responsibilities of the farm with us – because I refuse to bury you, too."
The words had hit him like a punch to the gut. He could still hear the crack in her voice and see the raw frustration in her eyes as she flung her arms wide, practically daring him to argue.
“Matthew has all the charm. Make him do the advertising. Let me handle the cattle. You handle the horses since you love them so much – and for the love of all that is holy, turn over the accounting and website to Luke. You don’t have to do this alone, Jason! You’ve never had to!”
The silence that had followed had been suffocating. Not because he had nothing to say, but because he knew she was right. And that truth burned.
He had done exactly as she suggested, and the result had been immediate. The weight that had pressed on his shoulders for years had lessened just enough for him to realize how heavy it had truly been. The relief in his siblings’ eyes had been undeniable. They had wanted this—they had needed this. And all this time, he had been the one holding them back.
So he’d taken it a step further.
Jason gave each of them a piece of the land. A tangible tie to their legacy. Luke now owned the adjoining property, ensuring the creek wouldn’t be dammed up. Matthew owned another parcel of land. Travis had bought the land with the house Becca had loved, so Jason had helped fund the renovations.
And he? He had finally decided to move out of the main house.
The old place had too many ghosts. Too many memories. He would be settling into his great-grandmother’s house once it was cleaned up. It was time. Time to let go of the past, time to carve out something new for himself.
For the first time in years, Jason had stopped running.
Yesterday, he had finished work by three in the afternoon—something that had never happened before. And instead of looking for another task, another chore, he had sat on the deck with a beer in hand and simply existed . The stillness had been foreign, unsettling at first, but then, it had felt good.
What else had he been missing in his life?
What if he started a garden?
What if he decided to go on a date?
His gaze swept over the crowd, and then, without meaning to, it landed on her again.
Caitlin Barnes.
She was laughing, her head tipped back, her dark hair catching the light. She was standing with Luke and Matthew, and she was always smiling. That was what he remembered about her. Caitlin was the kind of person who found joy in the smallest things.
Except for that one time.
The memory came unbidden. The fear in her eyes. The way she had gripped his arm so tightly that her nails had left crescent-shaped indentations in his skin.
And the scar on his hand—a small, jagged reminder of that day. Of how close things had come to turning tragic.
They had been kids, doing reckless, stupid things.
And yet, the thought struck him like a hammer to the chest—he had barely been three years older than her.
Three years.
That thought hit him like a ton of bricks. He had always tried to be so perfect, so parental, so strong that it never dawned on him that they were practically the same age. He always looked at her like she was some child, some gnat to brush off, but standing here now, he was seeing her for the first time.
She was… okay.
Decent.
There was an air of ease to her, like she was someone you could talk to, but she would never be some raving beauty. She didn’t paint her face, doll up her hair, or put on airs like some other women did. She was just Caitlin.
And before he knew it, he was walking toward her.
Jason was a simple man. He believed in routine. A single slice of toast, precisely buttered, and two eggs sunny-side up every morning. Predictability kept things steady and kept things safe .
But this week had shattered every routine he had.
He had let go. Delegated. Changed. And it had felt good .
What would it be like to toss one more thought out the window?
“Miss Barnes?” His voice came out steady as he reached her, snatching his cowboy hat off his head and holding it to his chest in a rare show of deference.
Matthew’s response was immediate, elbowing Luke and smirking. “Uh oh. We should go. The hat’s off, bro…”
“It’s serious,” Luke agreed.
Jason barely heard them. His focus was on Caitlin—who, to his surprise, didn’t look the least bit amused by his arrival. If anything, she looked irritated – at him. Sure enough, Matthew and Luke walked off together, chuckling, leaving him there with her, floundering.
“Can I help you with something, Mr. Baird?” she said, almost icy.
“I think you can call me Jason…”
“You started it by calling me ‘Miss Barnes.’ ”
“Welp, I’m finishing it now.”
“Consider it finished then,” she snapped, “Good day.”
“Yes, it is a good day – and I thought you might like to dance,” he retorted, realizing that she was giving him a hard time, like he’d done something wrong. “Do you have a problem?”
“You sure do.” Her expression didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened.
“Really?” he retorted, drawing back in surprise. “What, pray tell, is my problem?” And then, to his utter shock, she jabbed a finger into his chest.
“You,” she hissed. “You are your own worst problem, Jason Baird.”
“I know,” he replied simply and caught the surprise in her face, seemingly taking the wind from her sails. “I’m learning that, and it’s been a lot to swallow lately, but I got a whopping dose of humility served up to me this last week. Do you have siblings?”
“No.”
He chuckled. “Be glad for it. They’re great, but they can be meaner than a rattlesnake sometimes.”
For a second, just a second, something shifted in her gaze—a flicker of understanding.
Jason had spent his whole life carrying the weight of his family, of the land, of a legacy that sometimes felt more like a prison than a blessing. He was… free – and didn’t know what to do with himself. He had always worried, worked, sweated, and labored since he was eighteen, working hard on the farm with his father – and then tackling double the workload alone.
Now, he wasn’t.
He wanted to live, to enjoy life, to be a part of the world, and dang it – he wanted to dance.
He turned to Caitlin, the stubborn, sharp-tongued woman who had once been a blur in his past but was now standing before him, flesh and blood and memories he hadn’t known he still carried. He extended his hand, fingers open, palm up, an offering.
Bowing slightly, he met her eyes, willing her to say yes.
“Miss Barnes,” he said, his voice quiet but certain, carrying the weight of something deeper than a simple invitation. “ Caitlin , may I have this dance?”
She hesitated.
A flicker of something unreadable passed through her gaze—wary, unsure, maybe even afraid. Jason felt the breath in his lungs tighten. He hadn’t expected her to look at him like that, like she was searching for a reason to trust him and not quite finding it.
Her throat bobbed in a swallow. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, tentative.
“I would like to dance,” she admitted, glancing around as though she expected the moment to shatter, “but only if you’ve yanked that yardstick you’ve had firmly planted for years outta your rear end.”
Jason blinked, then let out a surprised chuckle.
And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he smiled. A real, honest smile that stretched slow across his face, easing something tight inside him.
“Consider it yanked…”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes in mock skepticism, lifting her chin ever so slightly. “Hmph.”
It was an unnecessary sound, one that should have been dismissive, but the way she said it made his grin deepen. He saw the edges of her lips twitch, fighting a smile of her own, and then—finally—she slipped her hand into his.
Jason swore he felt something click into place.
Her fingers were small, delicate, but warm—so warm it startled him. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected the jolt that shot up his arm or the way his entire body attuned itself to her in that moment.
“Make sure it doesn’t return suddenly,” she warned.
“I’m pretty sure it won’t,” he murmured, and before she could protest, he pulled her into an easy spin, guiding her through the grass.
Caitlin let out a breath—half laugh, half exasperation—and followed his lead.
But just as quickly, the playful air shifted.
Her posture stiffened. Her fingers curled slightly against his palm. He could feel her guard going up, brick by brick, and when she spoke again, her words were sharp.
“So what’s the deal?” she demanded, her voice low but heated. “Are you bored? Someone make a bet with you?”
“No bet,” he said simply. He held her gaze, willing her to believe him. “I realized today, standing here, that I’ve never danced with a girl before—and you, being a girl—I thought you might like to join me.”
Something flickered in her expression.
Disbelief. Skepticism.
A slow breath left her lips, and her brows pulled together ever so slightly.
“You didn’t go to your prom?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost incredulous.
“No.”
“You’ve never danced with a girl?”
Jason shook his head. “Always too busy.”
Caitlin scoffed, shaking her head like she didn’t believe a word of it. “Now I know you’re funning me…”
“I’m not.”
She tilted her head, studying him in the dim light. “Have you looked in the mirror?”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Once or twice,” he admitted. “Not often, though. It’s a reminder that time passes faster than you realize.”
Her smile faltered.
“Tell me about it,” she muttered, glancing away.
Jason hesitated. He could see something in her posture—something heavy, unspoken. “What have you been up to lately?” he asked instead, keeping his tone light, keeping the moment balanced on the edge of ease and something more.
Caitlin exhaled a sharp breath.
“Oh, you know, same stuff every other loser deals with—confusion about what to do with your life, have a little fun, realize you’re utterly broke and there’s no jobs in Yonder, join the military for a steady paycheck and insurance, regret that with every fiber of your being, and then end up back in the same place you left, realizing it’s not quite as bad as you made it out to be in your head.”
Her words tumbled out in a rushed sentence, each one laced with frustration, humor, and something else—something raw.
Jason listened, fascinated.
“Wow,” he murmured, his lips twitching at the sheer honesty in her voice. “You’ve lived your life, haven’t you?”
Caitlin blinked.
“Haven’t you?”
Jason hesitated, then shook his head.
“No,” he admitted openly. “I don’t think I have – but I’ve decided I’m going to try to.”
She studied him again, something wary and uncertain in her expression.
“That’s great,” she replied warily. “I’m happy for you – you should.”
“I’m moving.”
Caitlin’s breath caught.
Jason watched as her shoulders stiffened, and her eyes darted to his, searching and questioning.
“I’m moving into the old house on the hill,” he continued, his voice steady. “Remember where you saw the wildcat kittens years ago?”
She sucked in a breath. “That house?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh wow…” She shifted slightly, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. “Congratulations.”
They weren’t dancing anymore.
Jason could feel the shift, the way the night seemed to press in closer, the way Caitlin’s eyes searched his like she was trying to figure out what he wasn’t saying. He wasn’t sure why he told her about him moving. He hadn’t told anyone yet – not even his family.
Her lips parted slightly, her throat moving as she swallowed.
“I need to go,” she whispered.
Jason felt the words like a punch to the ribs.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t ask her to stay.
Instead, he nodded, his voice low. “Thank you for this dance.”
Her eyes softened—just a fraction.
“I enjoyed it,” he added.
Caitlin hesitated.
“Maybe you should try it again.”
Jason’s throat tightened. He swallowed, offering a small smile. “My dance partner is leaving, though.”
A beat of silence.
“Yes, she is,” Caitlin murmured, her voice measured, her expression unreadable.
Jason nodded once.
And then, just like that, she was gone.