The faint smile on my lips faded at a shift of context. He only looked torn.
The moment broke with a stiffening of his back. “I’d better get back to work.”
“All right,” I answered, watching him move for the stairs.
Stop him. Say something. This is your last chance.
“Jake,” I called after him a little too loud.
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder, and I was devastated by his beauty, by that deep and constant river of pain that rolled through him. And I knew it was useless. Fighting would only hurt both of us worse.
So I gave him another truth, one he already knew. “I’m sorry.”
He stood, poised to either walk away or climb back up the stairs and to me.
But he only said, “Me too.”
And then he walked away, and that final ember of hope went with him.
This farm couldn’t function without Jake. I was replaceable, inconsequential to the work he did. I gave nothing to this farm that someone else couldn’t provide, but Jake was the beating heart of this place.
To lose him would mean losing the farm’s motor.
The time to fight had passed. Trying to make a stand now would only drag the battle on and on until we were both bloody and ruined. But I had no doubt he would win.
As he should. Because where else would he go? Some other farm, to leave his home behind simply because he couldn’t look at me without reliving his pain? I had a job waiting for me in New York. I had a life there to fall back on.
I realized with a cold wash of reality just how right he’d been about me, just not in the way I’d thought he meant. This farm was Jake’s entire world, and I always had a plan B. There was always a safety net for me where he had none. His ferocity in defending this place was born of something deeper.
It was everything he had.
The truth dawned on me like sunrise from the gallows. If I stayed on, I wouldn’t be helping the farm at all.
I wouldn’t be helping Jake.
I’d be breaking everything I loved.
There was only one thing I could do.
And with tears on my cheeks, I turned for the house to make the call that would do it.
30
Just One Favor
JAKE
Twice in my life, I’d experienced such loss that a part of me broke, the fault leaving a sharp, craggy chasm in me, too deep and wide to bridge. The death of my mother and then of Frank.
Today marked a third.
I walked away from her shaking, too overcome to think, too overwhelmed to do anything but sink into my loss and hope I didn’t drown. I wanted to turn around, to gather her up in my arms, to kiss away everything that’d happened. To beg her to forgive me. To let myself forgive her.
But I couldn’t. Not if I wanted this farm to survive.
What a dumb idea, coming up to the house. Here I’d thought I had a firm grip on the reins, and one look at her had set me on a wild gallop. All I could do was hang on until I mastered myself.
Somehow, she still managed to surprise me.
She’d tried to give me the majority share, though she didn’t argue, didn’t try to convince me, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.
The two of us together were trouble, and the two of us trying to run the farm through that trouble seemed impossible, not without destroying it and each other in the process. How I felt about her was irrelevant—there was no trust to hold us together. Everything about her hurt. How I loved her. How she’d betrayed me. How she loved me. How she’d disregarded me.
Nothing had been the same since she’d come home. Not the farm. Not me.
It’d happened like it did in my nightmares—she swooped in, left her touch on everything. There were whispers of her everywhere. Even the fucking pink door to the big house.
Bowie came running out from behind the red barn, tongue lolling and ears flopping. But at the sound of heavy, clanging metal, he stopped and stiffened, his eyes trained on the back entrance. Mack wandered out behind Bowie like he was caught in a trance, his eyes wide and mouth gaping as he stared in the same direction as Bowie. Confused, I turned to the sound and adopted the same expression.
Three duallys clanked and rumbled toward the barns, pulling forty-foot trailers full of cattle.
Chase was behind the wheel of the first, his elbow hanging out the window and a hotshot smirk on his face.
A gasp from my side caught my attention, and when I looked down, there was Olivia, slack-jawed and breathless, smiling with big, shiny tears in her eyes.
“Oh my God. Is that …”
“I think it is.”
We took off in a jog toward the barns where Jimmy had pulled open the gates to let the trucks in. We got to them as they were parking and made for Chase’s truck.
He popped out of the car window, leaned on the roof of the truck, and waved.
“Why does Chase Patton have a black eye, Jake?”
When I gave her a look, she sighed, her eyes flicking to the cloudless sky.
“You looking for these?” Chase called.
I dragged my gaze over the sight of our cattle back in our farm.
“How in the fuck?” I asked in wonder.
“Well”—Chase jumped down and walked over—“we have an empty facility in Redding we’re renovating, and its barns are empty. I had a hunch—if he stole them, that’d be where he took them.” His levity hardened to stone. “I can’t fucking believe him.”
“I can. Jesus, look at them. I never thought I’d see them again.” I shook my head to clear it and turned to Chase, extending a hand. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Chase took the offering with a clap and pumped once. “There’s one thing you can do.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t call the cops.”
I withdrew my hand and glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
Chase sighed, hanging his hands low on his hips. “I am. Not because he’s my dad and we might get shut down, but because there’s another way out. One that will not only get rid of him, but it’ll give you all the cash you could ever want for.”
Olivia and I exchanged a glance.
“I know you don’t trust me,” he added, “but I went against him for this. I don’t know if you have any idea what the consequences of that will be, but do me a favor and hear me out before you call.”
I met Olivia’s eyes in search of an answer and found it before turning back to Chase.
“All right. Let’s hear it.”
31
A Little Bit of This
JAKE
Two days later, James Patton glared at me from across the substantial depth of his opulent desk.
I glared right back. Difference was, I wore just enough of a smile to make him mad.
“Are you gonna tell me what this is all about, or are we gonna lock horns in silence?” he asked.
“I know you’re behind what’s happened on my farm.”
He didn’t even flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—I haven’t even been in the state.”
“I know your overseer had one of his guys start the fire. I know the names of the guys who stole my herd. And I know your overseer himself poisoned my water supply.”