Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Hollie
Istood on the front porch of the big house, holding my phone up to my ear again as my gaze scanned the dark fields beyond the barnyard. Jesse’s phone went all the way to voice mail for the third time. “Hey, you’ve reached Jesse Holmes at Meadowbrook Ranch…”
I sighed, shoving the phone into my jeans’ pocket.
The girls were tucked into our room in Tag and Bea’s cabin and Jesse had tucked Cade into bed a couple hours ago. But a warm golden light glowed from the barn, and Jesse had never come into the big house kitchen to eat his supper, even though I’d texted him to do so.
Standing on the edge of the porch, I fretted over my options. I wasn’t sure what to do.
Even though an inky black blanket had rolled across the sky, moonlight illuminated the gravel drive. The big house porch was shrouded in shadows, the light of the windows dissipating into the night. A loud, dull roar of crickets and frogs softened the edges of my anxious thoughts.
I knew one thing only.
Jesse needed a hot plate of food. Ever since we arrived back at the ranch on Monday evening, he hadn’t sat down for a real meal.
From what I’d seen, his sustenance over the last two days had consisted of biscuits shoved into his mouth around a few sips of coffee.
Monday and Tuesday night, I’d left him a plate that he never came for.
With a deep breath, I charged into the barnyard, reassuring myself that I wouldn’t make it weird. I’d deliver the food, ensure he started eating it, then leave.
I followed the long corridor that stretched right through the middle of the quiet, empty barn all the way to the doors at the opposite end, which were thrown open wide, a few lights around the dirt arena flickering.
That was when I heard the music—soft country.
And there, sitting on a five-gallon bucket by the arena fence, was Jesse. He had a flashlight clamped between his teeth, a radio at his feet, and tools in his hands. He appeared to be leaning through the gap of the fence, cranking a wrench over a bolt.
I called out over the music. “Jesse?”
He jumped so hard that a metallic clang filled the air as he slammed the back of his head into the bar above him. He muttered a curse as I gasped, and his hands curled around the back of his head.
I rushed forward, coming up to the fence. “Jesse! Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry!”
“It’s—fine.” His words mixed with a low moan.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He slowly pulled his body out from between the bars, revealing that he was bare-chested and glistening with sweat.
My eyes, helpless against the temptation, quickly took him in.
His right elbow pointed toward the sky as he continued to rub the back of his head, drawing attention to details my imagination didn’t need.
Denying myself the indulgence of appreciating longer than a few milliseconds, I trained my gaze to his face with the discipline of a monk. But my stomach took a few somersaults. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry about your head. I just wanted to bring you some food.”
Jesse’s gaze dropped to the plate in my hands. “I’m starving. Thank you so much.” He flicked off the flashlight in his hand and shoved it into his jeans’ butt pocket, moving to the fence where his shirt was. He swiped the white fabric over his face and hair then slipped it on.
I finally took a deep breath. “I figured you were. You didn’t eat dinner the past two nights.”
He turned back to relieve me of the plate. “Sorry about that. I got your texts about saving me a plate, but by the time I finished up, it was so late that I didn’t feel like I should come into the big house to get it.”
My shoulders dropped. “I should’ve thought to put it in your cabin.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I just ate what we had.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged and smiled. “Pantry food.”
I grimaced. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It wasn’t. Trust me.” He pulled the foil back on the plate to take a peek, a hum coming from his throat as he surveyed the chicken, potatoes, and gravy I made. “Man, that smells good.”
I twisted my lips to curb the huge smile forming. “Do you want me to go put it in your fridge?”
“Absolutely not. I’m eating it right now.”
“I thought you might say that.” I fished in my back pocket for the fork and napkin I’d stored. Offering him the utensil, I said, “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll get out of your way and—”
“Are the girls asleep?”
“They have been for a while now.”
“Stay then.”
“Oh! Well, I probably should get back.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “I’m sure you’re tired.”
“I…” My words trailed off as I noted the disappointment dulling the sparkle in his eyes. The blend of sensations in my chest pingponged between dread and hope—always a contradiction around Jesse.
Before I’d fully formed my reasoning, I slowly said, “Actually, I can stay for a few minutes.”
He gave a small smile and nodded toward the rickety bleachers further down the fence. “Let’s sit.”
Our feet swished through the ankle-high grass as I followed him. We both sat on the bottom row, the warm metal shifting under our weight. Jesse instantly pulled the foil off his plate, lifted it, and took a deep breath through his nose. “I don’t want to know what dinners I’ve missed out on.”
“Nothing too special.”
He tossed me a doubtful glance as he forked a huge bite of potatoes and gravy. He groaned low with his mouth full. “Gracious, Hollie. That is so good.”
Dizzy with elation, my fingers found the edge of the bench, anchoring myself.
I’d become so accustomed to constantly disappointing everyone that Jesse’s point-blank enjoyment filled me like a waterfall hitting a coffee mug.
My skill finally being appreciated was a shot in the arm.
Harlan and Cade appreciated the food too, of course, but their eager bites didn’t have power over my spirit like Jesse’s.
The arena lights behind him silhouetted his body. Finally, he broke the silence. “I wanted to talk with you, but I can’t stop eating long enough to get words out.” He shoveled another forkful as I stiffened.
He wanted to talk with me? About what?
My heart tripped in my chest as a sudden surge of anxiety tightened my throat. Maybe I should’ve gone back inside. “Uh oh. That doesn’t sound too good.”
He turned to me, a light frown on his face. “What do you mean?”
“If someone wants to talk to me, it’s usually something bad.”
“I just wanted to catch up with you.” He dipped his fork back into his mountain of potatoes. “How was your day?”
I blinked, scrambling to switch gears emotionally. “Oh! Um, it was good. Kind of basic.”
“I saw the family that checked in.”
“Yeah, they’re maxing out that cabin, sharing every bed.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think those cabins are big enough for eight people.”
I huffed a tense laugh. “Agreed.” But I remembered the fact that my family stayed in one of those same cabins years ago, which was how Meadowbrook came into our lives.
My little sister became best friends with the grandson on the property—Tag—and the rest was history.
“You know, my family of eight stayed in one of those cabins so long ago.”
“Bea’s told me. Crazy how life works, huh?”
I nodded. “Wild.”
“How did you guys even come across Meadowbrook?”
I laughed. “So, my dad’s a truck driver. And he thinks road trips are fun. We were exploring Texas, and he wanted an authentic ranch experience.”
“Road tripping across Texas with six kids is a bold move.”
I laughed. “A boring one, too. But, to his credit, the Thompsons saw all the sites in about fifteen states. It was a low budget way for us to ‘see the world.’” I air-quoted dad’s old dream.
“Is that why he drives? He likes the travel?”
“I think at one point he did. But when our brother got sick, things changed for him.” I fought the swell of emotions that grew in my gut every time I spewed that half-truth. “He didn’t enjoy travelling nearly as much after that.”
“I get it. At least in part.”
“You travel all the time. Do you like it?”
He lifted a shoulder, stabbing at his chicken.
“It can be fun, but it’s also a layer of stress.
If I had a family, I’d struggle with being on the road so much.
Thankfully, since it’s just me and Cade, we always go together.
” He took a deep breath, and I heard the heaviness in it.
“We’ve been able to make sure I only go on the long trips when school is out, but that’s not going to be guaranteed in upper levels of rodeo.
I have no idea what I’ll do when I have a Thursday to Monday trip during the school year. ”
I hummed. “That’s a lot of pressure. Have you considered not driving?”
“Yeah, but I got my Class A license last summer, and that’s not a cheap investment.
I brought the conflict on myself, I guess.
I’m a positive thinker, and I totally thought we were a few years away from the more intense schedule and figured Cade would be comfortable and old enough—you know, twelve or thirteen—to stay with Bea.
But”—he raised his fork—“I think we are a ways out from him being comfortable.”
I hummed, thinking about that for a moment. “I’m not sure I agree. He did really well on Monday.”
Jesse looked at me, quietly chewing.
“When I went to get him from your cabin, he was clearly upset. His eyes were red like he’d been crying, but I gave him a hug and told him he was going to help me in the kitchen.
Two hours later, he was fine.” I twisted on the bleachers, bringing my knee up between us.
“I think, if you ended up having to be away from him a few days a month, he would be okay. And he would adjust much quicker than you think.”
His eyes roamed the empty arena beyond us. “Maybe the real problem is me.”
My heart burned with empathy for Jesse. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t know how to navigate it all either.