Chapter 9 #2
When Truett heads outside to handle some work on the ranch, I’m all alone again.
After I put Dad’s plate in the fridge for him to eat later, I make myself a sandwich, too, and take it on the back porch while I watch the sun sink over the fields.
The same fields I’ve avoided for more of my life than I spent playing in them.
And yet, as I drop onto the creaky rocking chair that belonged to my mother, the acres of grassy fields, wildflowers, and beautiful, thick trees still feel etched into my bones.
My mother used to spend nearly every night in the spring and summer watching us boys play and run around until daylight turned into night.
Our house was always the hangout spot. For as long as I can remember, friends always flocked here, probably because of how much land there is to get lost in.
Mom would bake cookies and treats during the day, then fix everyone lunch, whether they were her children or not.
I always appreciated how welcome she made my friends feel.
Well, not all my friends. But those she knew about, and who came around, she welcomed with open arms and a tray of freshly baked cookies.
A breeze moves through the grass, and the crisp chill in the air sends a layer of goosebumps all over my arms. Somewhere in the distance, cattle call to each other.
It’s something I used to hear every single day, but now, it feels foreign.
Honey Creek isn’t a big town by any means, but it’s definitely more city than Sweet Briar.
The air doesn’t smell faintly like manure any time you step outside, and driving down the highway, you don’t see cattle and horses grazing in every field you pass.
It was an adjustment when I first moved there, but it was one I desperately needed.
I’ve never felt like I missed anything back here.
Never questioned my decision to stay there after I graduated—and I still don’t.
But as I sit here, the sounds of nature and nothing more surrounding me, I can’t deny how beautiful and relaxing it is.
And how maybe, even if only a little, I missed being on this back porch, taking in the fields and wildflowers and trees.
I don’t know how long I sit here for, but eventually, footsteps sound behind me right before the screen door clicks shut.
“Thought I might find you back here,” Truett says.
Keeping my eyes on the sinking horizon, I say, “Just thinking.”
“That’s never good,” he muses.
I breathe out a small chuckle. “You’re telling me.”
Instead of taking the chair beside me, my brother leans against the porch railing in front of me, folding his arms over his chest as he glances out onto the field too.
Neither of us speaks for a while, and it’s actually kind of nice.
My heart doesn’t feel like it’s about to beat out of my chest for the first time since getting here.
After a few minutes, he glances at me. “You okay?”
It’s such a simple question. No, I’m not okay.
Not in the least. My father is dying, our family is drowning financially, I’m living in my old bedroom, and tomorrow, I have to start working with Jasper Smith.
Just thinking about his name makes something twist low in my stomach.
The feeling isn’t completely unpleasant, which honestly annoys me more than anything.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that old feelings don’t disappear.
They wait, buried and patient, for a moment when your guard’s down and you least expect it.
Like right now. Jasper and I spent so much time down by the creek when we were younger.
At first, it was innocent. At first, I truly thought it was just a friendship we had to keep between us.
But then one day when I was fourteen, it hit me that I always looked for him when I was down there, whether we had plans to meet or not.
I’d hope he’d be there, waiting for me. And yet it still felt innocent.
Like I was excited to see my friend, and that’s all.
By fifteen, I started noticing things I shouldn’t.
The shape of his smile and the way it made my heart beat faster.
The sound of his laugh and how much it brightened my day.
The way being around him felt easier than being around anybody else.
Back then, I didn’t have words for the way I was feeling.
Or maybe I did and I was too scared to voice them.
Whatever it was died the night Lyle did.
Everything did. Or at least I thought it had.
But then he opened the front door a few nights ago, and it felt like the secret I’d buried with both hands nearly twenty years ago was digging its way back out.
Even thinking that feels dangerous. Thinking about Jasper, in any capacity, is stupid and reckless.
“Chesney.”
I blink, realizing I’ve zoned out. Truett’s watching me, concern etched across his features. “Sorry. What?”
“Where’d you go just now?”
Forcing a smile, I clear my throat and say, “Nowhere. Just tired.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t call me on it.
Conversation fades after that as we both watch the sun dip even lower, painting everything a beautiful shade of gold.
Sunsets always remind me of things I try my best not to think about.
But even after just one day back home, I can already tell it’s going to be impossible to keep my mind away from it all.
I don’t know how I’m going to do it. Watch my dad fade into nothing, all the history and nasty words left untouched between us.
Work beside Jasper every day. Survive an entire year back in this town and face memories I’ve spent years outrunning.
But sitting here beside my brother, watching our family ranch stretch endlessly toward the horizon, I know one thing for certain: I don’t actually have a choice.
My family needs me, this ranch needs saving, and for the first time—maybe ever—running isn’t an option.
I have to see this through, or I’m afraid I’ll never be able to look myself in the eye again.