by Cathryn Fox
Tyler leans against the barn door, and the hinges creak. I make a mental note to grease them later.
“Did you ever stop to think about why she hasn’t sold the farm to Bryce, when it would have been a lot easier than listing it?” he asks.
“Yeah, actually, I was wondering about that.” Offloading it on Bryce instead of putting up a sign would have been the smart move. The house is still half painted, and so much needs to be done that I’m sure she’s not going to get fair market value. But that’s not any of my business now, is it?
“Let me tell you why. Both of us were pretty sure he was going to turn it into a strip mall or something equally stupid.”
I stop shoveling hay. Jesus, I never thought about that, but it makes perfect sense. I eye my brother. “What makes you say that?” I ask.
“Just some of the things he said, like tearing down the house.”
“He can’t do that.”
Tyler cracks his knuckles. “Yeah, he can if he buys it, and the fact that she won’t sell it to him must tell you she cares about this place, about what happens to it, and us,” he continues. “If you’re thinking she was only doing this to save her trust fund, you’d be wrong.”
I stare at my little brother as he glares at me. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately.”
He pushes off the door as Barack O’Llama comes from the orchard. “I have another question for you.”
I sigh and lean against the pitchfork. “I’m sure you do.”
He runs his hands over the llama’s back, and Barack tries to nuzzle his neck. “Did you ever think about why she left?”
“We know why she left, Tyler. She hates me and took off in the middle of the night because she couldn’t get away from me quick enough.”
“She left so you wouldn’t lose the farm, asshole.”
My heart misses a beat. “Fuck,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s right. She lost everything, bro. Have you thought of that?”
I spent the last week sulking and kicking my own ass. I should have been thinking about what leaving cost her—and not just financially. I’m a bigger asshole than I realized.
As if reading my thoughts, Tyler says, “You’re not an asshole, Jay.”
I drop the pitchfork and sit my ass down onto one of the hay bales. Throughout the month, Alyson had blossomed before my eyes, her confidence brimming over as she soaked up every crumb of knowledge she could to make the farm successful. She found herself here; she discovered her purpose. Goddammit, this is where she belongs, and I ruined everything.
“You need to go get her.”
The voice comes from a distance, and I stare at the barn door until my mother comes into view, Capone on her arm.
“Jay’s an asshole,” Capone says.
“He might be acting like one,” Mom agrees. “But he’s going to fix that.”
I stand and walk outside. The afternoon sun shines down, and I try to breathe but can’t seem to fill my lungs. “What if she never wants to see me again?”
“There’s only one way to find out now, isn’t there?”
I glance around. “I can’t leave—”
“Jayden,” she says, and I stop speaking. She’s using my full name, and she only ever does that when I’m in trouble or she has something very important to say. “Have you ever stopped and asked yourself why you never moved to the city with Juanita?”
I narrow my eyes in on her. Why is she asking a question we all know the answer to? “Yes, and we all know why. I have a farm to run, a family to take care of. I promised Dad.”
She gives a slow shake of her head. “Wrong. She wasn’t the one for you, son. If you really loved her, you would have fought for her. You’re a fighter. You always have been. Look what you’ve done for our place, for your brothers…for me. You’ve had a lot of responsibility, but now it’s time you do something just for you.”
Pain breaks out behind my eye sockets. “Yeah, but Dad…”
“Your dad would be so proud of you, son. He always was, even when you were going down the wrong road.”
My throat tightens, and tears prick my eyes. I lower my head, guilt eating away at me. “I wasn’t here for him. He died because—”
“He died because he had a bad heart. Simple as that. You can’t blame yourself. No one here blames you.”
“That’s right,” Beck says, coming up behind Mom. He puts his arm around Mom’s shoulder, and Capone flaps his wings. “But if you don’t make this right with Alyson, then you are to blame. We’ll remind you of that every day.”
“Every day,” Tyler agrees, and I have no doubt the two will make my existence a miserable one. But that’s when I realize it’s already a miserable one. Without Alyson, nothing makes sense anymore. “You need to go get her,” Tyler says.
I turn to my brother. “I can’t make her come back here.”
“Then you’ll have to figure out how to live in her world,” Mom says. “You two are meant to be together. She came into your life for a reason.”
“We can take care of this place, Jay,” Mom says. “You’ve done enough. If you need to go, you need to go.”
“We got this, bro,” Tyler says, throwing his arm around me.
“Are you guys serious?”
Cluck comes running around the corner, and Capone’s wings flutter faster, his head bobbing like he’s down for the count.
“Clucky’s a douche,” he blurts out, and it eases a measure of the tension taking up space around us.
I search every set of eyes staring at me and settle on my mother’s. “What if she can’t forgive me?”
“Everyone has forgiveness in them, Jay.” She puts her hand on my cheek. “That girl loves you, and you need to go make it right.”
I nod, and when tires crunch in the distance, I search Alyson’s driveway. We closed the market down after she left and put out signs saying as much, but it’s not a wayward customer looking for produce. No, it’s Bryce Kent, and he’s here on a mission to purchase the farm. Every muscle in my body bunches.
“Like hell,” I say under my breath.
“What’s going on?” Beck asks and turns to see Bryce climbing from his car. “What’s Bryce want?”
“He wants to buy the place,” Tyler says.
“Bryce is a dick,” Capone says upon hearing the name.
“Damn right he is,” I say and head toward the man with his eye on Alyson’s property. I kick my legs out and quickly close the distance between us. He’s sporting a smug smile when I reach him, and it’s all I can do not to wipe it off—with my fist.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Jay,” he says, slowly sliding his hands into his pockets as he takes a big morning breath of fresh air. “How’s my soon-to-be neighbor?”
“I’m not your soon-to-be anything,” I say, and he frowns.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Everything will be fine when you get off Alyson’s property.”
“Alyson’s property? Not anymore. I’ve got an offer in.” He holds his hands like he’s gripping a bat and swings his arm. “Really lowballed her.”
Anger rages inside me and grows until all I can see is red. “She’s not selling it to you for you to tear it down.”
“Why do you care what I do with it?”
“Because Alyson cares, that’s why.”
He looks beyond me, like he’s sizing the place up, and my fists clench. “She’s gone, and you should be thanking me for that.”
My heart nearly stops. “What?”
“We both needed her gone, and I helped speed things along.” He snickers, and my temper flares even more. “You’re welcome.”
“You’ve been sabotaging the place?”
“Well, not me. Young Derek Banks came to me and told me about the bet. Heard it fro
m his father. In exchange for bringing me that information, I gave him a small fee and an even bigger one when he said he’d help me move things along. I did us both a favor.”
Before I can stop myself, I lunge forward and punch him in the face. I was right about one thing. He wouldn’t personally sabotage the place, but I never stopped to think the bastard would hire someone to do it for him.
“You could have killed her,” I say as he falls to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. Tyler cheers me on in the distance.
“What the hell?” Bryce says.
“The place isn’t for sale,” I inform him and yank the For Sale sign out of the ground. At least not until Alyson hears what I have to say. The place belongs to her. I’m not sure if she’ll ever want to come back, but never will she see her uncle’s place, his pride and joy, go to someone who wouldn’t care for it the way she’d want.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Bryce says.
“Yeah, I’ll be holding my breath.” With the cardboard sign in my hand, I storm toward my family and snap it over my knee. They’re all watching me carefully. “If anyone asks, it’s no longer for sale,” I say, and they nod.
“Jay…” Mom begins.
“Mr. Honey Buns,” Capone blurts out. “Moves like Jagger.”
I glance at Mom to find her trying to stifle a chuckle. “He’s…” Ugh, how the hell do I explain that one?
“Dude,” Tyler says. “What you do behind closed doors with your bird is your business, but that’s just nasty.”
As everyone laughs, I cut through the path with single-minded determination. I have no idea if I can make this right, if I can ever get her to trust me again, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to do my best.
Chapter Twenty One
Alyson
I lift my red Solo Cup and aim it toward Lucy. “Here’s to shopping, Broadway, concerts, espressos, and parties,” I say, and she taps her cup to mine. We both take a big drink, and I force a smile.
Honestly, after living in Farmington, none of those extravagant things are important to me, at least not like they used to be. Not when there are so many other things that have more meaning to me—like my farm, the animals, the people of Farmington. I snort. Even if I were still that same person I was before my stint in Nova Scotia and wanted to hit the expensive stores and Broadway shows, I couldn’t afford the high price tags. Dad offered to reinstate my trust fund, but I gave it up. I need to live life on my own terms and answer only to myself. I also walked away from my condo, wanting to make my own money and my own way in life. I don’t want the cushion or to fall back into my old way of life. This makes me accountable. He said he’d save it all for my children, and I totally agreed with that—if I ever have them, which isn’t looking good. Couch surfing at my friends’ places definitely won’t make the highlight reel, but I’ve been pounding the streets for work every day, trying to find some kind of meaning in my life.
You had meaning in your life.
Someone bumps me from behind, and the beer in my cup spills over my shirt—the same one I was wearing when I fell into the Atlantic. I laugh almost hysterically, and my mania results in a few strange looks from my friends.
“Ah, are you okay?” Lucy asks as she flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and makes a pouty face for her selfie.
I dab at my shirt with a cocktail napkin and duck out of the way. My eyes are so puffy from crying, I do not want the image captured and splashed all over Instagram.
“I have this real problem with my clothes,” I murmur. My head lifts abruptly, and I steal a fast glance around Lucy’s condo, half expecting Jay to be here. I never used to ruin my clothes, or lose them, or have them ripped from my body, before my trip to Farmington—before meeting Jay. I’m not exactly sure why it’s happening now if he’s not here.
Lucy leans in. “Hey, did you hear Bradley and Janice are having problems?” She gestures with a tip of her cup, and my gaze cuts through the room to see the two in a heated argument. “Daddy’s trust fund might be gone, but that guy will keep you in the lifestyle you’re accustomed to.”
“Not interested,” I say. Nope, not interested in my ex-boyfriend at all, and truthfully, I dodged a bullet when he broke things off with me. I thought I was heartbroken when Bradley walked out of my life, but I think the real reason I was upset had less to do with love and more to do with the fact that one more person in my life didn’t see my worth.
Here I thought Jay saw my worth.
Jayden Andrews.
The only man I truly want in my life and in my bed broke my heart, and I honestly never knew what real heartbreak was until him. Just saying his name in my head brings tears to my eyes and pain to my soul. He might have bet against me, but he was always there to lend a helping hand. Deep in my gut, I know that wasn’t to watch over me, to ensure I failed.
At least he gets to keep his farm. I couldn’t stand to see them lose everything because of me. I’d grown fond of them all during my stay, and no way would I see them displaced. I’d rather displace myself—right onto my friend’s couch. But my God, I miss them. My heart squeezes, and the tightness in my chest makes breathing a little more difficult.
Fighting tears, I push from my seat and walk into the kitchen, moving past Bradley, who is in a heated conversation with Janice. My gaze meets his, and I offer a polite smile that seems to enrage Janice. She roughly touches Bradley’s face and pulls his focus back to her.
No worries, girlfriend. I don’t want him.
The kitchen is empty, and I’m grateful for the reprieve. I need some alone time but have nowhere really to go. Maybe I should sneak upstairs to the spare bedroom. Although Lucy would have a fit if I bailed, and since I’m staying at her place, I don’t really want to piss her off. Why she thought she had to have a party for me is still a mystery. It’s not like she really missed me, but she insisted I needed to find myself a man so he could take care of me. Probably to get me out of her hair sooner rather than later.
But I don’t want a man to take care of me. I want to take care of myself. Yes, it’s nice to have someone there to catch me if I fall, but I want to be the one responsible for me and for my own happiness. I pour my drink down the drain and fill the cup with soda. I take a sip as Bradley comes into the kitchen. When I notice Janice isn’t behind him, I push off the counter, my entire body tightening. I’m really not interested in having a conversation with him.
“Hey,” he says, in that soft, familiar voice he used to use when he wanted something.
“Hi,” I return.
“Heard you were doing some farming in Nova Scotia.” His lips curl at the corner like my life is a big joke, like farming is a big joke.
“That’s right,” I say, the hairs on my neck standing up as I go on the defense. No way, no how will I let anyone belittle what goes on in farm country. Jay works harder than any man I know.
He looks the length of me, his gaze lingering on the wet spot on my blouse. “Whatever possessed you to think you were cut out for farming?”
My blood races faster, and I resist the urge to dump the contents of my cup over his head. In the other room, I hear a bit of a commotion, a few raised voices, but have no idea what’s going on. I set my cup on the counter and stand up straighter.
“What do you want, Bradley?”
“I might have made a mistake,” he says and runs the back of his fingers over my cheek. I flinch at the touch, and his head rears back, obviously surprised by my reaction.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I try to step around him, but he blocks me.
“I missed you.”
“Missed me? You left me, remember?”
“I think I made a mistake.”
“No, you didn’t. We don’t belong together.” I try to get around him again, but his grip on my arm tightens. “Now you’re making a mistake.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Back off. That’s your first and only warning.”
He moves closer, and breath that reeks of alcohol and sadness turns my stomach as he tries to press his crotch against me. “You don’t mean that.”
“I mean every word of it. Now back off,” I say.
“Or what?”
“Or this,” I say and knee him right in his giblets. He groans and drops to his knees, and when he does, I see who’s standing in the doorway behind him.
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. I grip the counter, blink once, twice, sure I’m hallucinating, but the image won’t go away. Maybe someone spiked my drink because no way in hell would Jay Andrews be here in New York, a place he hates, standing in my friend’s kitchen.
“Attagirl,” Jay says as Bradley rolls around on the floor. “I always knew you were tough.”
“Jay?” I say, my voice stammering as my knees wobble. I push off the counter and take a step toward him, needing to touch him, or poke him, some kind of sign to prove I’m not losing my mind and seeing things.
Bradley grabs my foot, and I let loose a yelp as I fall forward, but Jay is there, right there to catch me before I face-plant on the kitchen floor.
“I got you,” he says, and my stupid heart tumbles in my chest.
He bet against you, Alyson.
“How did you find me?” I ask around the massive lump punching into my throat.
“I tracked down your father.” He angles his head, want and need radiating from every pore. “He told me where you were.”
“What are you doing here?” I swallow and work to ignore the sensation that someone just drove a tractor straight through my heart.
His eyes narrow in on me. “I should be the one asking you that question.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I stand up straighter, but his hands linger on my waist. Damn if that doesn’t feel so good, and damn if I don’t want to stay exactly where I am, taking pleasure from his light touch. My pulse picks up tempo, dancing wildly in my neck.
He looks over my head, takes in the empty bottles, the keg, and all the party supplies. “This isn’t who you are.”
