14. Fourteen
Fourteen
Wes
The sun beats at my back as I heave another hay bale off the trailer and into the hay barn. Sweat coats my skin as my brows furrow.
Since a week ago, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened with Cass. And since I got home and reevaluated my priorities and goals, I haven’t been able to stop avoiding her.
My number one priority has to be Miller Run, but it also has to be the well-being of the staff and those around me.
When I’d dated Scarlett, I found myself so engrossed in work that I’d go days without communicating.
On the nights when one of the mares would drop a foal?
I’d be non-existent for at least three days afterward.
It was always one of her complaints.
In fact, it was the reason she’d blown up at me in front of the staff the day we broke up.
In that moment, nothing about our relationship mattered. We became strangers. No. It’s more than that.
I have had multiple clients bring up her name, and every time, I’ve steered them in a different direction. I’d love to say it was based on her talent or a genuine belief that she wasn’t the right fit for what our client needed. In reality, it’s because I don’t want to see her.
Facing her is facing all of my shortcomings, my failed relationship, and my propensity to end up just like my dad.
If I fail at this—if I pursue Cass and mess it up, will she quit her job? Will I shut her out of Miller Run?
So, logically, I’ve been avoiding her.
It’s cruel and unfortunate—certainly against everything my body and my heart are screaming at me, but it’s also the right decision.
Another bale, and I grab my discarded shirt from the grass next to the trailer, turning my ballcap backward and wiping my face with the fabric before getting back to work.
I’ve gone over everything at least a hundred times.
Cassidy Summers has been very clear about how much this job means to her.
She’s a good worker, knowledgeable about the horses, and she cares deeply about every animal on this farm.
In addition to that, she loves being here.
It’s in the lilt of her voice when she talks about the horses.
I can see it in her eyes whenever I ask her to try something new.
She’s gotten comfortable with the foals on the farm and gets excited whenever she finds scrap papers documenting how often the baby nursed in the office because she knows it means she’s about to meet the newest member of the Miller Run family.
All I can think about is how loving the farm and all it comes with wasn’t enough to keep my parents together.
As far as relationships, I’ve been shit at them—too afraid of repeating patterns, and somehow, at the same time, too afraid of change. The life I’ve built is good, solid in a way my parents could have only hoped to be.
If I upset the balance, I have to assume the risk of fallout should something happen. I also assume the risk of Cassidy losing the job she likes, too.
I’ve spoken with her enough to know this is the first thing she’s done for her.
How could I jeopardize that?
I stack another bale in the hay barn, turning around to find a shadow lingering at the barn’s entrance. My heart jumps at the intrusion.
“Fucking hell, Rosemary.”
Roe crosses her arms over her chest, her wild hair tied into a bun at the top of her head. Noting the jeans, muck boots, and t-shirt, I get the feeling my sister expects to be asked to help. That, or she’s offering help in exchange for something.
“Don’t curse at your sister,” she says, cracking a smile. “It’s rude.”
I shake my head, burrowed too deeply into my own thoughts to banter. I grab another bale of hay, thankful for the work gloves when I toss it out of the trailer, and then walk it to the barn.
“You’d have to rake less chaff if you had a little help,” Roe says, her eyes tracking me as I work. With her brow furrowed, I know she’s spinning a web of what she thinks is wrong.
I don’t want to find out if she’s right.
I grunt, jumping back up onto the bed of the horse trailer and stomping to the back where the last few stacks sit.
Roe invites herself into the trailer, blocking my path.
My hackles rise. “Are you offering help or trying to prevent me from doing my job?” My brows raise. “Because right now it seems like the latter, and I’m kind of pissed off about it.”
Roe scoffs, stepping aside so I can move another bale. “Cassidy was eating lunch alone,” she calls, and I halt, knowing it’s a mistake the second it happens.
I can hear the smile in my sister’s voice. “Less talkative than normal. She even gave me a one-word answer as to where you were.”
I turn my head just slightly to talk over my shoulder. “You don’t know the girl enough to know what is and is not considered normal.”
Roe scoffs again. “Oh, please,” she says. “I can get a good read on someone’s personality, Wes.”
I drop the bale, turning to face her. “Why are you here, exactly?”
The energy of the conversations shifts, Roe’s expression flattening in a way that makes my stomach sink. She’s not just here asking for help. Something happened.
Oh shit.
“I…” She pauses, looking toward the ground to kick up some of the chaff. “I’m moving back.”
I stare at her. “From Nashville?” I question.
“Yes, from Nashville,” she says, folding in on herself. “The music thing isn’t working out the way I want it to. I think I need something steadier.” Her voice cracks. “I need to grow up, Wes. Everyone knows it. Mom said—”
“Mom,” I say, hinging at the waist to pick up my t-shirt and throw it on. “Mom doesn’t know anything.”
I play back my last conversation with my mother—the one where she hinted at how displeased she was with Roe’s decisions. I mean, she’s always been displeased. The only difference here is that this is the first time I’ve seen Rosemary shrink.
Normally, she faces my mother head-on. Roe fights for what she wants. She doesn’t just quit.
Roe shrugs, “Maybe she does.”
I step forward, my chest tight against the rising emotion. Nashville—music—is all Roe has ever dreamed about. The idea that she’d give it up—that she’d listen to our mother on the matter—
“Spike,” I say, my voice soft. “You can’t be serious.”
Rosemary straightens her spine, standing up to her full height with new resolve.
The decision’s been made, and once Roe makes a decision, there’s no talking her out of it.
The only reverse that woman knows is the gear she engages on her own.
“I am serious,” she asserts. “Which means I’d like to stay at the house.
” Her voice lowers when she adds, “Please.”
I take too long to respond. The answer is obviously a yes, but I’m still fighting the urge to tell her she’s wrong. I’ve heard Roe’s music. Whatever the issue is, it’s not for lack of talent.
Music floated through the hallways upstairs growing up. For so long, I was the first person to hear every new song she’d ever written—the first to watch her play at the local bar in town.
“I’m not going to ask for work,” she adds swiftly. “I don’t expect to be hired or anything, and I know Grammie’s house isn’t up for grabs. I just figured you might need the help, and I need a little time to—”
“Please.” It’s my turn to scoff. “Let me pay you for a little work around here. We can always use extra hands, and you’re always welcome in the farmhouse. It’s only me there, anyhow.”
Roe smirks, the expression far less defeated than her previous mood, but it still feels like a mask.
This place isn’t home for her anymore. All she ever wanted was to get out.
“What is it then?” she questions. “I still can’t believe you and that girl haven’t fucked yet.
I saw the way you looked at each other.”
“Damnit, Rosemary.” I run my hand down my face, shifting my jaw to prevent grinding my teeth together in frustration.
“That is, quite frankly, not appropriate for the workplace. You also know I don’t get involved with employees.
” A glaring lie. I can still feel Cass’s soft lips against the pad of my thumb—hear her shallow breaths.
Roe holds her hands up in defense. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just figured with the way you were looking at each other, and it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”
“Stop.”
Her hands drop. Roe chews on the inside of her cheek, looking around at the chaff I’ve left while loading hay. Her features soften. “You sure you can use an extra hand around here?”
I sigh. “Yeah, well, we are waiting on two more foals. Besides, you’re great at teaching lessons for the younger riders. Maybe you and Cassidy can work together on that. She’s pretty good at it, too.”
“Wesley Alexander Miller,” Roe starts. “When I’m right, I know I’m right. I don’t know what happened, but are you using me to avoid that woman?”
I am.
I can’t look at Cassidy without remembering the feel of my hands around her waist—without wondering what her lips taste like.
My fear of failure has put me into fight or flight, and unfortunately, I’ve chosen flight. I’ll run as far as I need to for some distance. If I don’t, I’m going to make a decision that could ruin everything.
And with Cass? I can’t ruin everything. I just can’t.
I can’t bear to see her walk away.
Irritation coats my tone. “Want the work or not?” I question.
“I’ll take it,” she says. “But only until I find something else, okay?” Roe kicks at the loose hay on the ground. “This isn’t really my thing,” she admits. “You know that.”
I nod once, hopping up into the trailer to move the last of the bales. “That’s fine,” I say over my shoulder. “Go get some extra gloves from the office. They should be on the counter.”