Chapter Twenty-Two
Xavier
This time, the lock clicks open as I take the first step. Relief hits hard knowing she locked the door instead of propping it open with a brick. The back door creaks as I pull it open.
“Don’t step–”
Too late. I stop mid-step as a low, warning grunt rolls through the porch. Samson is already on his feet, all two hundred pounds of him. He blocks the path to the straw-lined corner, where the piglets are piled together in a warm heap.
I don’t move. Don’t challenge. Don’t do anything that might make him think I’m a problem.
“You have… security.” I keep my voice even.
Ruby presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. “Samson takes his job seriously, and it only seems to increase the older his babies get.”
One of the piglets squeaks, shifting toward the edge of the straw. Samson steps forward, slow and deliberate. I stay where I am, letting him decide whether I’m friend or foe.
“Easy,” Ruby murmurs, stepping up beside me. “He’s with me.”
Samson’s attention flicks to her, then back to me. Another grunt. A long pause. Then he turns and settles back near the piglets, still angled between them and the rest of the porch.
“Approved.” Her lips curve upward.
I exhale. I’m not sure I could win a fight with a pissed-off boar. “I feel honored.” I crouch near the doorway instead of stepping fully in.
“They’re bigger.”
“They double in size fast.”
One of them wobbles too close to the edge again. I reach out, nudging it back toward the others. Samson watches. Doesn’t object.
“That one’s a troublemaker.” Her eyes dance as she watches it waddle back into the line with the rest of them.
“Looks like you.” I rotate my shoulders as I return to a standing position.
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Rude.”
The piglets wiggle around. Delilah remains steady. Samson stands guard as nothing gets past him. “He’s not going to let anything near them.”
“Samson?” She nods. “He’ll stand there for hours if he thinks there’s a threat.”
Good. The word settles deeper than it should, but I’m not going to complain. Samson’s diligence is twofold. He’ll keep the piglets safe as well as alert Ruby to any potential intruders.
“You quit.” It’s not quite a question, more of a statement, since she’s the one who contacted me.
She exhales, sitting back on her heels. “It didn’t feel right anymore.
” I wait. She fills the silence. “Everything changing. Watching everything. Acting like I need permission to do my job. And if I stay, I keep dealing with that.” Her voice tightens.
“I can’t keep doing that and still feel like I have any say in my own work. ”
My teeth clench together. “And Brent?”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s no humor in it. “Still there. Still persistent.”
Not new information. Still doesn’t sit right. “You did the right thing.”
“Yeah?” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
It’s clear she doesn’t have the same certainty that I do about quitting being the right decision.
Not when it means losing work or walking away without knowing what comes next.
“I need something lined up before I can let myself believe this is right.”
“Yeah.” No hesitation. Because it’s not just about being uncomfortable, it’s about access. Who’s watching. Who thinks they get to.
She nods, then looks back at the piglets. “I told him two weeks.”
“Good.”
Her head tilts. “You didn’t even ask what I’m going to do next.”
“I know what you’re going to do next.”
She huffs a breath. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” I stand, pulling my phone from my pocket.
She watches me. “What’re you doing?”
I hit dial. “Dad.” A pause. “I found someone for the office.”
“Okay.” There’s no mistaking the relief in his voice as it cuts through the line. “Are you sure she’s solid?”
I glance at her. She’s staring at me now. “Yeah. She’s solid. Already handles scheduling, client interaction. Organized. Doesn’t panic when things get busy.”
Not a stretch. Just facts. Another pause.
“How soon?”
“Two weeks. She’ll finish out where she is.”
“If you vouch for her, I’m on board. You know I’m tired of wrestling with that computer and the phone.”
“I’ll bring her by this week.” I hang up.
“You just… hired me.”
“I told you I would.”
She pushes to her feet, brushing straw off her jeans. “I didn’t think you were serious. I still need to figure out what I’m doing if this doesn’t work, because I can’t afford to assume.” Her words come fast, like she’s counting the risk as she speaks.
“I was.”
“That’s not how jobs usually work,” she says. “You don’t call someone, and that’s it. You have interview–”
“I do.”
She narrows her eyes. “That’s not reassuring.”
I almost smile. “You run a busy front desk by yourself. Including scheduling, dealing with clients, handling problems without making them bigger.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it.
“I’ve seen how you work,” I continue. “You’re good at it.”
Better than good. Efficient. Calm under pressure. Doesn’t escalate unless she has to. And she notices things. Important things. I don’t hand out positions like that unless I trust the person to handle it.
“I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t think you could do it.”
She folds her arms. “It’ll be two weeks.”
“That’s fine.”
“And I didn’t quit to work for you,” she says. “I’ll find something else if this doesn’t…. I can’t just wait around with nothing lined up.” She folds her arms tighter, like she’s bracing against the uncertainty.
“It will.” Her head snaps toward me like she’s ready to question my proclamation. I don’t give her time to interject. “I was serious, and I still am.”
The piglets move behind us. Samson grunts low, adjusting his stance and always watching, always between them and anything else.
Ruby exhales. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ve already decided.”
She huffs a laugh. “Know-it-all.”
“Astute,” I reply.
“You’re ridiculous.” Her shoulder brushes mine as she steps past me. Brief. Accidental. But it sends a sharp current through me, and I let it. I watch her go.
“Yeah,” I say, and the word lands harder than it should. The silence after feels louder than either of us.