Chapter Five
Ruby
The gravel crunches under my tires before I even cut the engine. Home. Not mine anymore, not really, but it's where I grew up, and the feeling of home remains in my bones whether I stay or not.
Dad’s truck is already parked crooked beside the barn, one wheel barely off the packed dirt like he was in a hurry when he pulled up. The barn doors are open, light spilling out across the yard, catching in the dust and the slow drift of hay.
I grab my keys and roll my eyes. No one is going to steal my car in the middle of nowhere. My father owns the land in all directions, and there’s only one way in and one way out, down his long gravel driveway.
After dropping my keys back into the cupholder, I step out, the air hitting different out here, cleaner, colder, edged with that mix of feed and earth that never quite leaves you once you’ve grown up in it.
A low grunt carries from inside the barn. Followed by Dad’s voice. “Easy, girl. Easy.”
The barn is warm, the kind of heat that comes from bodies and work instead of vents and thermostats. Straw crunches under my boots as I step around a feed bucket and slide inside the half-latched gate.
Dad is crouched beside a younger sow, one hand steady on her side, the other braced against his knee.
“You’re late.” He hooks two fingers beneath the brim of his faded cap, tipping it back just enough to study me before settling it into place again.
“I have a job.”
He smirks, “So do I.”
I step closer, taking in the space around him. The sow is shifting, restless, and the boar is hovering nearby like he’s personally responsible for the situation. And he likely is the culprit for why we’re here.
“How long?”
“Started about ten minutes before I called you,” Dad says. “Figured you’d want to be here.” He says it like I still belong in the middle of this.
I set my bag down without thinking and crouch beside him, my hand moving to her shoulder, fingers finding the spot that calms her.
“Hey, girl,” I murmur. “You’ve got this.” Her breathing steadies under my palm.
Dad watches me, then looks back to the sow. “Vet is on the way.”
“Dr. Carter?” I don’t know her well, as she only moved to town a couple of years ago.
“Who else?” He clears his throat while straightening the water bucket with his knee. Nothing around him stays crooked for long. “She was closest.”
The sow moves again, a low sound rumbling through her chest. I adjust my position for better access to the sow. “You’ve done this without me before.”
“Yeah.” Dad lifts one shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I prefer it.”
My chest tightens so I focus on the sow instead. The sound of a truck pulling up outside cuts through the barn a minute later. Boots hit the ground, then footsteps, quick and purposeful.
“Back here,” Dad calls.
Dr. Carter steps in a second later, shrugging off her jacket as she moves. Late thirties, maybe early forties, dark hair pulled back, eyes sharp and assessing before she even says a word.
"Well, sweetheart," she murmurs to the sow before turning her attention to Dad. A faint hint of peppermint surrounds her. "Tell me what she's doing."
“First litter.” Dad pulls off his ballcap, wipes his brow with the back of his hand, and replaces the hat on his head. “She’s restless.”
Dr. Carter nods, already stepping in, hands efficient as she checks the sow. “Let me take a look, mama.”
I move to give her space, then stop when she glances at me. “Are you staying, or do you get queasy?”
“Staying.”
“Good. I’ll need a hand.”
Dad’s mouth twitches like he expected that. Whether he expected her to question me or expected me to go along without hesitation, I’m not sure which.
I move back in, taking direction without needing much. Hold here. Guide there. Keep her steady.
If it weren’t her first litter, he probably wouldn’t have called me or the vet. But first-timers tend to get agitated, and he doesn’t want to lose any of the piglets. Or the sow. I shudder at the thought of any of them dying.
Minutes pass like that with quiet instructions, soft animal sounds, and the steady rhythm of work that doesn’t care how tired you are or what else you have going on.
It’s familiar. Not easy. Never easy. But familiar.
The first piglet comes fast. Small. Slick. Alive. I clear its nose without thinking, guiding it toward the sow.
“There you go,” I murmur.
Dr. Carter glances at me, something approving in her expression. “You’ve done this before.”
“Once or twice.”
Dad huffs as he drags the flannel shirt off his shoulders and tosses the garment onto the floor behind him. “More than that.”
I shoot him a look, but he ignores it.
Another piglet. Then another. The barn fills with soft squeaks, new life pressing close, the sow settling as instinct takes over.
Dr. Carter pats the sow’s side. “Good job, mama.” She leans back, assessing. “She’s doing fine now.”
I sit back on my heels, brushing straw from my jeans as the likelihood of something going wrong diminishes.
“Thanks for coming out.” Dad stands and stretches, easing whatever kinks he got crouched beside the sow for so long. His white T-shirt is streaked with hay dust, dirt, and the general mess of farm work.
“Part of the job.” Dr. Carter jots something down in her notebook. She doesn’t leave right away. Doesn’t rush it like vets normally do.
She turns her head toward me. “You in school?”
I blink at the sudden turn in conversation as I rise to my feet to join them. “What?”
“Veterinary tech,” she says, like it’s obvious. “You’d be good at it.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “Hard not to be when you grow up around it.”
Dad clears his throat. “She’s been taking general classes.”
I close my eyes for half a second. I should’ve never told him about school. I’ve not even told my best friends, Bella and Emily, about the classes I’ve been taking. “Dad….”
“What? I’m proud of you.” Dad adjusts his weight like he has nowhere to put his hands.
“It’s nothing.” I shrug, willing the heat to dissipate. I hate the way my cheeks turn pink when I’m flushed. “Just general stuff. I’ve done everything online.”
“Nothing?” Dad frowns like he’d prefer to shake me than listen to me downplay my studies.
When we graduated, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, so instead of going to college and wasting money on classes I wasn’t sure I’d ever use, I went to work.
I’ve cashiered at the grocery store, waited tables at the Burger Bunker, shelved books at the library, and now I answer the phone at the gym.
I’m not sure what I want to do with my future, but I’ll finish my general studies next semester.
Dr. Carter studies me, not unkindly. Just… seeing more than I want her to.
“Well,” she says after a beat, “you’ve got good instincts.”
I nod, unsure what to do with that.
She tears a page from her pad and hands it to Dad. “Keep an eye on her over the next couple of days. Call if anything looks off.”
He clears his throat again. “Will do.”
The piglets are easier to face than Dad.
Her boots echo across the barn floor before fading into the yard. She fishes something from her pocket, unwraps it with one hand, and pops it into her mouth before climbing into the truck.
The frantic birthing process is over, leaving the barn more subdued. The piglets nurse, tiny bodies pressed close. The sow shifts, content.
“You don’t have to do everything alone, Ruby.”
There it is. The lecture that always comes with our conversations. I know he worries about me, but I’m not as fatalistic as he thinks. At least, I don’t think I am. “I’m not alone.”
“You’ve got a house that needs work, a job, and classes on top of it.” His voice stays even, not pushing, just stating facts. He snatches his flannel shirt off the ground, shaking it. The movement sends pieces of straw fluttering. “That’s a lot.”
Maybe that’s why I was hoping Xavier would show up. To take some of the weight off my shoulders. Maybe it had nothing to do with him in particular.
If I tell myself that enough times, I might even make it true.
I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from picking at my cuticles. Bella’s planning to do my nails later this week, and I’d rather not ruin that.
He watches me for a long moment. “You’re allowed to lean on people, you know.”
I huffs a breath. “I lean.”
“When?”
I open my mouth. Close it because I don’t have a good answer.
The barn creaks around us. Outside, the wind picks up, rattling something loose against the side of the building.
“The house, the job, everything. I’ve got it.”
Dad nods once, like he expected that answer. “Alright.” But he doesn’t look convinced.
After yanking my hands out of my pockets, I wipe them on my jeans. “I should head out. I’ve got a shift in the morning.”
“Drive safe.” He says it as he checks the gate latch.
“Always do.” I grab my bag and walk to the door, pausing long enough to make sure the sow settled, piglets safe, everything where it should be.
Outside, the air feels colder than when I arrived. I inhale, taking the scent of clean air and grass deep into my lungs as the gravel crunches under my shoes.
Something moves at the edge of the property line. A coyote. A stray dog. It could be anything. I lived out here long enough to know better than to chase every sound.
I climb into my car, start the engine, and pull away, the barn shrinking in the rearview mirror.
The house. The job. The classes. I’ve got it.
I have to.