14. Beck #2
It’s no secret that Austin has a reputation in town, and not a great one. But I know he’s a hard worker, and he’s more than proved himself to me over the years. “Just glad we’re not here talking about your cows getting out again.” Tate lets out a low laugh.
“You and me, both,” I agree. “But I wish I could have put this particular visit off another few months.”
I typically don’t have to purchase hay bales until the end of summer, when everything is dry and crispy from baking in the sun for months on end. Not mid-May. The pastures should be lush this time of year. But on my ride the other day, all I saw was patchy grass, only a few vibrant tufts of green.
It happens. It certainly isn’t the first time a ranch has experienced a drought early in the season.
My dad dealt with his fair share of challenges too.
But it’s one thing to have to manage a drought, it’s another to have to manage a drought on top of a mountain of debt and a ranch that is falling apart at the seams.
“I hear ya,” Tate says, shaking his head solemnly.
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one.
My stock isn’t going to last forever either at this rate.
I had a good harvest last year, but this season doesn’t look as promising.
” Tate points at a large pile of bales stacked on one side of the barn. “Those are all yours.”
Austin and I get to work loading them onto the flatbed trailer, him driving the forklift and piercing the bales wrapped in white plastic onto the bed until it’s fully loaded.
I strap each of them down to make sure there are no casualties on the way back to Wild Sage. That’s the last thing I need. I can’t afford to buy more hay let alone lose any.
The sun is high in the sky and scorching by the time we finish. I lift my t-shirt to wipe the sweat from my brow as Tate returns to give me the invoice.
My stomach drops when I see the number. It’s nearly doubled since last year, which I shouldn’t be surprised by. But the shock must show on my face, because Austin snatches the piece of paper out of my hand and reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet with the other.
“I’ve got this today,” he says, and I flash him a glare, but this time, rather than fighting it like I did with Skye, I let him pay. When we get back in the truck, I shift into drive and start the journey home. My grip on the steering wheel is tight.
“What was that?” I ask, eyes fixed to the road.
“That was payback for years of letting me live on your property rent free while continuing to write my cheques,” Austin says cooly.
I don’t say anything, I don’t look over at him. I flex my arm, knuckles turning white on the wheel.
“Look, I’ve been able to save up a bit of money thanks to you,” Austin explains. “I’ve been living pretty frugally, I haven’t been partying or going out. It’s time I give back a little, repay the favour.”
“I don’t expect–” I start, but Austin cuts me off.
“I know you don’t expect me to repay you, but I want to. It’s the least I can do, knowing how tight things are. And now that you’re giving Lyla a job and place to stay too? I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”
I let out a breath through my nose, part annoyance and part relief. In my mind, Austin has owed me a sum total of zero dollars. What I did for him, I would have done for anyone I love. Austin isn’t just my best friend, he’s my brother.
“Thanks,” I say, giving in.
We pull up to Wild Sage, the gravel in the driveway crunching under the weight of the load we’re hauling.
I lean over to look in the side mirror to make sure the hay bales aren’t going to take out the rickety wooden arch and the sign that hangs off it.
I clear it, barely, and continue down the drive, past the main house, past the guest house, and toward the barn.
“How’s it been working with Lyla, anyway?” He asks with a chuckle. “Can’t be easy, I imagine. She’s such a little shit. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated Lyla’s guts after the shit she put us through growing up.”
A defensive wall slides around me. I definitely don’t hate Lyla, not even a little bit. And although it would be far, far easier for Austin to believe that I do, I can’t bring myself to lie. I can’t even get those words out.
“It’s actually been fine,” I say instead, making sure to keep my tone even, indifferent. “She’s smart, and she has good ideas.”
Austin nods. “I was at the barn late last night.”
My stomach lurches. I didn’t know he was out there. There’s a direct line of sight from the guest house to the barn, and with the porch light on…
“I saw you two at the house, on the back porch,” he adds.
Fuck.
My palms sweat, and my heart jumps into my throat. If Austin looked up as I reached over to Lyla’s face, he could have made all kinds of assumptions. But there’s nothing accusatory in his voice or in his expression when I risk a glance over at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, she had some questions about the paperwork Dad gave her to look through,” I say, steadying my voice. It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie. That was the precise reason she invited you in. “Nothing more.” I blurt.
Wow, real fucking subtle.
Austin barks a laugh. “That is not where I was going, man. I know that would never happen in a million years. I trust you.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced by the sickening feeling of shame. I was careful to keep Lyla at arms length when she first got here. Hell, I kept her a fucking mile away. But every boundary I thought I had drawn in the sand, I’ve quickly stepped over.
I shared personal things with her, and I listened when she shared with me.
I let my mind go to places I told myself I never would.
Now, Lyla is working in my house, and all I’ve been thinking about all day is storming into her office, sweeping everything off the desk and kissing her until she can’t think straight.