Jesse
Jake and I worked the fence without talking, which meant I had way too long to think about Lucas and his intrusion in my life. He could be a thorn in my side, or I could learn to ignore him until his six months were up.
We were halfway down the line when I heard the ATV. Jake and I both looked up. The sound came fast, and the engine pushed harder than usual. Miguel, by the look of it. He cut the engine well back from the horses and jumped off before it had fully settled, boots crunching as he jogged over.
“Boss,” he said, breathless. “Mr. Knox hit Mr. Barrett.”
The words didn’t land right away, and it took me a while to comprehend that Mr. Knox was my dad, and Mr. Barrett was Lucas.
My hand was still wrapped around the fence post, staple gun hanging uselessly at my side.
My chest went tight, as if I’d forgotten how to breathe.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket on instinct.
No signal. No missed calls. No messages from the full-time nurse who was with him now, and nothing had come in on the radio.
“I’m sorry! He’d cornered me!”
“Lucas cornered you?”
Miguel shook his head hard. “No. Mr. Knox cornered me. I was dealing with it, I swear. Trying to keep him calm, like Jake and Gunner say I should. Then, Lucas stepped in. Got between us. And your da—Mr. Knox, hit him.”
“And you’re okay?” I asked immediately.
“I’m fine, but Mr. Barrett…”
“I’ll deal with it.” I swung up onto Boone, fingers clumsy on the reins, and Jake mounted his horse beside me without a word.
We headed back toward the ranch as fast as we dared, Boone stepping out willingly, as I scanned ahead, to the sides, anywhere my dad might be.
The distance wasn’t far. A mile, maybe. It felt longer.
Halfway back, as soon as we had a signal, my phone chimed. Then chimed again.
The first message from Olivia was impassioned, exclaiming that Dad had taken her car. The second was from Brian, the nurse who was with him today, saying he’d vanished, and another from Brian came seconds later. ‘Your dad just came back. Sorry to worry you.’
“Fuck,” I said out loud. “Dad’s been and gone,” I told Jake, who nodded.
I didn’t slow Boone. I slid down as soon as I reached the house, Jake taking Boone, and I shoved through the door hard enough to rattle it.
My heart was still racing, fear gripping me, and I was ready to tip into something worse.
Dad pushed the limits, but the only person he hit was me, and fuck, what the hell was going to happen now?
Lucas was sitting at the kitchen table, an ice pack to his left temple, a bottle of meds on the table, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead.
“He can’t help himself,” I lied, because sure as hell, whatever hate my dad had inside him, hitting someone—hitting me—was deliberate.
Lucas stared at me, took the ice from his temple, and I winced.
Dad had caught him good, and there was a cut there; blood dried down at the corner of his eye.
“Fuck. We need to get you to a hospital.”
Lucas sighed. “I’ve had worse,” he said.
My stomach sank at the way he dismissed getting hit in the face and cut enough to bleed, then picked up a towel and patted at melted ice, smearing the blood down his cheek as if this happened every day. I realized I was staring when he gestured to the medical case on the table.
“I need something more up-to-date than the 1998 kit I found in the bathroom.”
“Sure.” I headed out to the front room, where I’d set up my bedroom, and found the emergency medical kit I kept in there, headed back to the kitchen, and placed it in front of him.
In a few quick, almost practiced movements, he’d felt his way around the cut, smoothed a wipe over it, and called it done. Then, he sat back in the chair.
“Okay, Jesse,” he said, voice low. “What the hell?”
“I don’t know—”
“I don’t care how much of our land you own or how hard you try to block me. Whoever the fuck that was works for me, too, and I want him gone. Off this land. Now.”
“I’ll get him off—”
“He cornered one of my staff and unloaded every slur he could think of. Homophobic. Racist. Vicious.”
“I didn’t know how bad he’d gotten.” Shit. That wasn’t any better. This was hopeless, and I didn’t have the words to explain. “We can’t actually fire him because—”
Lucas stood so fast the chair slammed back into the wall. “If you think I’m going to stand there and let that happen on my property as an openly queer owner, and with whatever you think you are, then you’re dead wrong.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“The ranch doesn’t employ him,” I began, and it was a lame start with me sounding as if I was defending what had happened. I was still in shock. The way Miguel spoke, it sounded as if Abel had done this before, and Miguel had handled it. Why didn’t I know this? Why had no one told me?
“Then what the hell is he doing here?” His expression grew serious. “I’ll call the cops—”
“He’s my dad!”
If I thought that was enough to end the conversation, I was wrong.
Lucas’s voice dropped instead of rising. Flat. Controlled. “The cabins are falling down. You might have profit, but your books are a disaster. The reality is that I don’t know where to start fixing the accounts before we sell,” he said. “You won’t sell and—”
“I’m not selling—”
“—and now your father is allowed on my land, putting his hands on my people.”
“It’s our land!” Not the point, Jesse. “Shit, that’s not the point, and I didn’t mean… look, I’m sorry.”
“What happened wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was violence. And if this is what you allow, Jesse, then I don’t know how you can live with yourself.”
I should have fought. Instead, I took a step back, then another, putting space between us, because if I didn’t, I was going to say something I couldn’t rewind.
“I need to go,” I said, and my voice surprised me with how steady it sounded.
I didn’t wait for a response. I turned and went for the door, putting one foot in front of the other until I was outside in the cold. Jake was untacking Boone. He looked at my face and didn’t ask anything. He stepped aside.
I took the reins from him, my hands already moving, because standing still wasn’t an option.
Boone waited patiently as always, head low, steam rising from his coat.
I loosened the girth one notch, then another, slow and methodical.
Leather creaked. Metal buckles clicked. My fingers knew the work even if my head didn’t.
I pulled the saddle free and settled it on the rail, then ran my hands down Boone’s neck, his shoulder, checking for heat, for strain, for anything I’d missed in the rush.
Jake worked beside me, quiet as ever. He was taking care of Buddy, and the only sounds were the soft thud of hooves shifting in the dirt and the scrape of leather.
I brushed Boone down, longer than necessary, grounding myself in the rhythm. Stroke after stroke. He flicked an ear back toward me, steady, solid, same as he always was. I led him into the stall, made sure he had water, that hay was set right, and everything was in its place.
Jake finished at the same time I did. He shut the stall door, checked the latch, then looked over at me.
“How long have you all been keeping secrets from me, Jake?”
Jake frowned. “Huh”
“How long have you known Abel’s been here, harassing Miguel? And why would you ever tell the kid it was his job to defuse what my dad does?” I tried to keep my voice level.
“Because you never did anything about it,” he said and huffed a breath. “Abel does it in front of you, same as always, and you don’t see it.”
“Of course I see it! I deal with things when they happen.”
“Not in the proper way,” Jake said, blunt as usual.
“Fuck! I try,” I said.
Jake nodded. “I know, but when it’s just him and Miguel—or him and anyone he thinks won’t push back—it gets personal. Real personal. And it happens more than you care to see.”
The truth hit me; I hadn’t seen it because I hadn’t wanted to. I’d been there when Dad ran his mouth, when he crossed lines just enough to make everyone uncomfortable. I’d told myself it was noise. Bluster. The same old shit that we were all used to.
But I knew how my dad worked. I knew he saved the worst for when no one was watching. He’d done it to me my entire life, and I knew he pressed until he found the weak spot and leaned onto it. Somehow, I’d convinced myself that because I didn’t see it, it wasn’t happening.
That was on me.
This was my crew. My responsibility. And I’d let things with Dad slide until they were out of control.
I owed it to them all to fix this. I just didn’t know how.
I needed to make things right with Miguel.
And I owed Lucas an apology.