8. Nash
Chapter 8
Nash
T he sun wasn’t even up, and here I was, stumbling into the rustic kitchen like a zombie, clutching my coffee as if it were the only thing keeping me alive. My boots were untied, my hair probably looked like I’d been electrocuted, and I was praying no one would notice.
My night at the village motel had been rough. The mattress had springs coming out of it, the vertical blinds were in pieces, and I could hear everything happening in the next room. A shiver passed through me as I thought back to the sounds coming out of there. Still, I’d managed to get up, get somewhat dressed, and arrive on time at the ranch.
“You’re late,” Dawn said without even looking at me, her back to the stove.
Well, there goes being on time.
“How can I be late? It’s not even a normal human hour,” I grumbled, collapsing onto a stool at the kitchen counter. I was more used to getting up when the sun was going down than the other way around.
“The horses disagree,” she replied, setting a plate of eggs and toast before me. “They’ve been neighing for twenty minutes. Want to go explain to them that you’re not a morning person?”
I muttered something under my breath and shoveled a forkful of eggs into my mouth. Dawn smirked, like she’d won some kind of contest. Her hair was fastened in a high ponytail poking through the hole at the back of her cap. I just wanted to tug on it because of her joke, but I restrained myself; it was only my second day here, still.
Then Ben wandered in, way too chipper for this hour. “Morning, Nash! Ready to muck out the stalls again?”
I groaned, dramatically dropping my fork onto the plate. “Isn’t there some kind of chore rotation around here? Maybe Clara wants a turn.”
“I supervised yesterday!” Clara entered from the doorway, hands pushing her blonde bangs out of her forehead. “And I’m supervising again today. Very important work.”
“Supervising?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s just standing around telling other people what to do.”
“Exactly,” she said, grinning as she plopped into a chair at the kitchen table behind me.
I turned back to Dawn, pointing dramatically at the two of them. “This is what I’m dealing with. Your team is bullying me.”
Dawn didn’t even look up. She just handed me a pair of gloves. “Welcome to ranch life. Now finish your coffee. You’ve got work to do.”
I eyed the stained gloves beside my still full plate. My second day was off to a rough start. I gobbled my eggs and picked up the gloves before following Dawn outside.
Out in the barn, I tried to focus on the job at hand, but apparently, swinging a pitchfork full of straw in the right direction was more complicated than it looked. The straw missed its target entirely and landed dangerously close to Simon.
“Sorry, buddy!” I said, holding up my hands in apology.
Simon just blinked at me, his expression deadpan. “You’re not very good at this.”
His first words for me were an insult... or more of a realistic comment, I guess.
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered. “I’m learning, okay? Give me a week, and I’ll be an expert.”
Simon tilted his head like he wasn’t convinced, then wandered off to help Ben.
From across the barn, Dawn burst out laughing, shaking her head as she leaned on a hay bale. “He’s got a point, you know.”
I turned to her, trying to look offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Why would I do that? This is way more fun.” She said, pushing herself off the bale and walking towards the home ring to train.
“Glad to be your entertainment,” I said dryly, but I couldn’t help the smile creeping onto my face.
By lunchtime, I was a wreck. Dirt, sweat, and straw clung to every inch of me, and I was pretty sure I’d inhaled at least half the dust in the barn. When I finally collapsed onto a bench outside the house, Dawn handed me a glass of iced tea with a smirk.
“Is this what you do every day?” I asked, gulping down the drink like it was liquid gold.
“Besides training, pretty much,” she said, sitting across from me. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Will I, though?” I asked, glancing at her. “I feel like I’m one wrong move away from being trampled by a horse or poked by a chicken.”
“That’s part of the charm,” she said with a teasing grin.
Ben and Clara joined us then, full of energy, apparently fueled by something other than exhaustion.
“Nash,” Ben said seriously, “you’re taking care of the chicken coop this afternoon. I’ll teach you the technique; don’t be afraid.”
“Technique?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “There’s a technique for that?”
“Oh yeah,” Ben said, nodding solemnly. “You need a good form, or you’ll hurt your back.”
“Yup,” Dawn repeated, clearly trying not to laugh. “Don’t embarrass yourself, Nash.”
I shook my head, leaning back against the bench. “No pressure or anything.”
“Come on, follow me.” Ben continued, taking his teaching really seriously.
“You said this afternoon, not right now!”
“It is afternoon, Nash. It’s 12:05!” laughed Clara, seeing my despair.
I mustered all the energy I had left to go clean the chicken coops with the help of my new colleagues. I can’t say I was at ease with this chore. I didn’t like the way the chickens were looking at me, with their bulging eyes and their wrenching screams.
I looked around to ensure no one was near and dropped to face one of the hens. “I’ll cook you if you attack me.”
Before I had time to finish my sentence, the beast flew at me, low on the ground, landing on my feet. I let out a really manly, not terrified-at-all scream before running out of the coop.
These fucking birds.
I heard distant laughter behind me and saw Ben and Clara folded in half. I couldn’t help but smile, even if they were laughing at my deeply rooted fear of birds.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, I was still standing, which felt like a minor miracle. Dawn and I sat on the porch with beers in hand, the quiet of the evening settling around us like a blanket. Simon was rocking in his chair, and the two others were preparing dinner inside with the help of Billie, whom I’d met earlier today, and Willow.
“Not bad for your second full day,” she said, clinking her bottle against mine.
“High praise,” I replied, taking a sip. “I think I’m starting to like it here.”
She glanced at me, surprised. “Really?”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” I said with a grin. “It’s different, yeah, but it’s... good. Honest. It feels real. I like it.”
Her expression softened, and for a moment, we just sat there, watching the horizon. The light of the setting sun painted everything in warm golds and pinks, but it was Dawn who caught my eye. She had this effortless beauty about her, the kind that wasn’t wrapped up in makeup or fancy clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, strands escaping to frame her face, and her eyes held a depth that drew you in without trying. I’d barely met her, yet there was something about her that felt steady, like the ranch itself—rooted and unshakable.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she said finally, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Too late,” I said, leaning back with a smirk. “I think I’m already hooked.”
To my surprise, it wasn’t just the ranch I meant. There was a pull here, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe it was her, or perhaps it was this place, this life. Either way, it felt good—unexpected, sure, but good.
* * *
The dining table was a patchwork of mismatched chairs and personalities, and somehow, it fit. The residents had whipped up some kind of stew that smelled like it had been simmering for hours—the kind of meal that made you feel at home, even if you weren’t sure where that was.
I sat between Clara, who hadn’t stopped grinning at me since I’d arrived that morning, and Simon, who was laser-focused on slicing his bread into perfect triangles. Across the table, Dawn was pouring iced tea while Billie and Willow were already bottomless in an animated debate about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.
“You can’t just throw fruit on everything and call it gourmet,” Billie said, her fork gesturing for emphasis.
“Pineapple is not just any fruit,” Willow shot back. “It’s tangy. It’s sweet. It’s?—”
“It’s disgusting,” Clara chimed in, her voice theatrical as she stabbed a carrot from her orange pile.
Simon, without looking up from his bread slices, added, “Pineapple on pizza increases the flavour profile’s complexity.”
I tried to stifle my surprise. I quickly learned that he was a man of few words, but his comments were always profound. I tried to suppress my laugh, but it escaped anyway. “Simon, are you a pizza scientist or something?”
He looked at me with a dead-serious expression. “I read a study once. It’s all about balance.” Then, just as quickly, he returned to his bread like the conversation had never happened.
Dawn rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. “You’re all impossible,” she said, but you could hear the affection in her voice.
Ben, who had been quietly stirring his stew, suddenly piped up, “You know what’s really good? Ranch dressing on pizza.”
Willow nearly choked on her drink. “Ranch dressing? Ben, that’s a crime!”
“It’s not a crime. I’ve seen it on TV, and no one ended up in prison,” he said, grinning as he shrugged, not catching Willow’s joke. “It’s delicious. Right, Nash?”
All eyes turned to me, and I realized I’d just been handed the role of tiebreaker. “Oh, no,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m not stepping into that fight. But I will say there’s a reason ranch is a classic.”
“Ha!” Ben crowed, pointing at Willow triumphantly.
“You’re all food heathens,” Willow muttered, shaking her head.
The conversation rolled on from there, jumping from favourite childhood snacks to the weirdest things we’d ever eaten. I learned that Clara was obsessed with trying peanut butter with practically everything, and that Simon once ate grass on a dare. He declared it “surprisingly not bad,” and Billie had a talent for sneaking snacks into movie theatres that bordered on legendary.
By the time the plates were cleared, my cheeks hurt from laughing. It had been a long time since I’d felt this—this easy, this light. Sitting there, surrounded by mismatched chairs and mismatched people, I felt something stir in me that I hadn’t felt in years. Something that whispered, maybe, just maybe, I was exactly where I needed to be.