Chapter 6
Jenna
I stare at the stack of essays on Romeo and Juliet, knowing good and well it’s been a long freaking time since I worked my way through the play.
This is going to be a long night.
But at least I miraculously passed that stupid background check.
Rolling the red pen in my hand, I pluck the first essay off the pile. I’m not sure why Dr. Shannon chose to do hard copies, when the rest of the world has moved to digital. But…
Whatever.
I just have to get through grading these, and then I can start scoping out the town. I start reading through the opening paragraph, discussing a striking label of codependency and obsession right off the bat.
Well, this is a modern take, I laugh to myself, just as there’s a knock on the doorframe. I peer up to see one of the staff member’s faces.
“How’s your first day?” Ian, a tall, redheaded composition professor meets my gaze. “I heard you were the sole applicant. I have to know, what made you choose this shithole town?”
I chew the inside of my cheek as he steps into the office. “I guess a job is a job, when you need one.”
His brows raise. “I suppose. I figure you had ties here. Most of us do.”
I start to deny it, but then stop. “My brother used to live around here.”
“Yeah?” Ian plops down in the chair across from me. “What’s his name? I probably know him. Well, or maybe not. I don’t know. Hard to say.”
“Yeah… I actually haven’t heard from him in a long time.”
Ian’s face softens behind his glasses. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, and then casually pull up a picture of him on my phone—not in his uniform or with his hair cut short in a fade. “I lost his phone number when he changed it.” It’s a lie… And probably not even a good one.
Ian stares at the picture, and I pray to goodness that he hasn’t kept up with the Texas or California news, my heart pounding in the side of my head.
“Oh hey,” Ian seems to miss what I said as he stares at the picture. “I’ve seen that guy! He works at the Bradford Tree Farm. We saw him there this past Christmas with my sister and her kids.”
“Really?” I try to swallow the emotions tightening my throat. “I guess it is a small world after all.” I put the picture away and then lock my phone screen, careful not to give any more exposure than necessary.
“Sure is,” Ian grins at me. “You a fan of Romeo and Juliet?” He points at the papers in front of me. “I never knew why Shelby always focused on it. Seems overdone in my opinion.”
I tilt my head, my eyes dropping down to the words for a minute. “It’s not my favorite, no. But I think some people like the tragic love story.”
Ian chuckles, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, I could see that. I guess I just prefer my love stories not to end in tragedy."
I set the essay back down on the desk and push my chair back. “I guess for me, they’ve always ended in the worst way. So, maybe I’m jaded.”
“What a shame,” Ian holds my gaze, as I grab my messenger bag and shove the stack inside of it. “You seem like the kind of woman a man would want to give a happy ever after to.”
I pause at the doorway, forcing a smile. “Nah, that’s not me. I don’t care to have my happy ending, but I do care to take my lunch break,” I joke, grabbing my coat. “I’ll see you later.”
“Best of luck with lunch.”
I give him a passing nod, and then head down the hallway for the exit, my phone already on the GPS, figuring out where the hell the Bradford Tree Farm is. I slip out the main door and make my way to my SUV.
Thankfully, no one pays much attention to the Texas plates.
I toss my messenger bag into the passenger seat and then plug my phone in, seeing that I’m only fifteen minutes from the place. Google says that it’s closed, but still… It’s something.
And I need to see it for myself.
I navigate the small amount of traffic, and squint at the overhead entryway sign for the farm, fields of trees, and well…
A closed gate. I pass it, and then notice a gravel road cutting off the main road around the perimeter.
Carefully, I follow the road along the exterior wrought iron fence until I come to a smaller private gate.
I take a deep breath, my heart rate picking up, and then pull off, parking in the trees. I can totally do this. I trade my heels for tennis shoes, punch the unlock button, and then slide out, wincing as I bang the door into a tree.
Whoops.
Being graceful was never my forte.
I tug my coat tighter around my body, and slosh through the mud. Why is it so miserable here? Who would choose to live here? I shiver, and when I finally make it to the gate, I stare at the big fat lock on it.
Well, they take security seriously.
I try the lock once, and it doesn’t budge. However, someone didn’t do well with the chain. I press the gate inward and am given about a twelve-inch gap.
Plenty of room for me to fit through.
I remove my puffy coat and suck in a sharp breath. I wince as the metal scrapes my skin through my sweater, so cold that it almost feels like it’s burning me as I pass through. I take in the fields of trees, and then a huge log cabin structure set off to the side, hidden from the main road.
I stay as far back in the trees as I can, slinking my way along until I make it to the edge of the structure. It’s well maintained, but it’s not like front, where everyone buys trees. There, on the back porch, is a row of jackets and boots.
And one looks painfully familiar.
I swallow the knot in my throat as I inch closer, scanning the area for someone who might see me. It’s stupid and reckless, but I can’t take my eyes off the black leather jacket—the one that he got from my grandpa before he left.
I climb quietly up the steps, and then head straight for the coat, pulling it off the rack. I rip the zipper down, and tug it open, my eyes met with the messy bolded name of my brother.
Cade Kellan.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, and then pull the jacket to my nose, inhaling the familiar scent of my brother’s cologne.
He’s here. He has to be here.
I cling to the jacket, and then step toward the back door of the house—or maybe office? I can’t tell the difference, but as soon as I do, I freeze.
Voices.
“Listen, it doesn’t have to be so complicated,” a gruff, Texas drawl hits my chest like a hammer. I don’t recognize it, but it still rattles my body. I slip down the steps, and ease around, getting a view of the front.
Oh my god. Oh. My. God.
I’m met with the sight of three men, and my eyes jump immediately to the one with the blood caked around his nose, his face hidden under a ball cap.
My lower lip quivers, and I think I see my brother, a more scrawny, disheveled version of him.
However, someone else in a black cowboy hat steps into my line of sight, blocking him.
I instantly recognize him.
The man from the surveillance photo.
Part of me wants to run out and shove him out of the way so I can double check that it’s my brother with the bloody nose.
But the other, much stronger, part of me can’t freaking move, drawn into the commanding presence of the man.
He’s over six-foot, with jet black and gray hair poking out from his hat. Everything about him screams that he’s in charge from the way he walks with broad shoulders erect, the way his jaw appears to be perpetually set, and the razor-sharp focus of his light eyes.
And my body stupidly reacts.
Jeez, what is wrong with me?
I shake it off, but by the time I rip my eyes from the hot cowboy, everyone is out of sight. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out in frustration.
Oh shit. Lunch break is over. Time to get back to grading essays…
And then it hits me.
I know how to get closer to the Bradfords.