The Ranch
About a week later, Jordyn’s phone buzzed on the counter upstairs, a number she didn’t recognize.
She stared at it. Her first instinct was to let it ring. Unknown numbers rarely brought good news.
But something… curiosity, maybe, or the memory of storm-blue eyes and a coffee cup… made her swipe to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Dustin,” came the voice, low and calm like worn leather. “Maisie mentioned you were looking for a second job. I could use a hand out at the ranch. Cleaning up the barn, feeding the animals, maybe some fence work. Nothing fancy. It’s quiet out here. Thought maybe you’d like that.”
She didn’t answer right away.
People who were too kind always had strings. Promises dangled like bait. She’d learned not to bite.
“Cash?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “No paperwork, no questions.”
Jordyn’s stomach twisted. She didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust him. But she needed the money.
And, if she was being honest, she needed the quiet too.
“What time?” she asked.
“Sun-up,” he said. “I’ll text the address.”
She hung up before she could change her mind.
-----
The ranch was older than it looked from the road.
The drive in was long and dust-choked, flanked by wooden fences and patches of sun-scorched grass. A red barn leaned slightly to one side, like it was exhaling after holding itself upright for too many years. Horses and cattle grazed lazily in the pasture beyond, tails swishing. A windmill creaked nearby, turning slow in the morning breeze.
And at the gate, a dog with a limp and one ear flopped sideways came bounding up, tail wagging like Jordyn was the best thing that had ever happened.
“Hey, boy,” she said softly, kneeling down to scratch his head. “Don’t get too excited. I’m just here for the work.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She turned, startled.
Dustin stood a few feet away, one hand on the barn door, the other holding a mug of coffee. He wore a sweat-stained gray T-shirt and jeans with a rip at the knee. His boots were scuffed. His forearms smudged with dust. He looked like someone who belonged to the land, and it belonged to him.
“You made it,” he said.
“I needed the cash,” she replied flatly.
He didn’t flinch. Just nodded, like he understood.
“Fair enough. Come on. I’ll show you around.”
-----
The day passed slowly.
They worked side by side without much talking, just the occasional instruction, a quiet laugh when she startled a chicken, the sound of hay bales hitting the ground. Dustin didn’t ask about her past. Didn’t ask why her hands shook a little when she held the pitchfork, or why she flinched when a horse whinnied too loud.
He just handed her gloves when the chore required them. Made sure she drank water. Showed her how to avoid the soft spots in the barn floor. Walked her through how to hold out an apple without getting her fingers bitten off.
By noon, she’d forgotten to feel afraid.
By mid-afternoon, she’d forgotten she was supposed to be angry at the world.
They sat on the tailgate of his truck around sunset, splitting a glass of sweet tea and listening to the cicadas.
“You always this quiet?” she asked.
Dustin shrugged. “Only when the silence says more than I can.”
She looked at him then.
There were tiny scars across his knuckles and a few on his face. Eyes that looked like they’d seen too much and decided to stay soft anyway.
Jordyn’s heart ached.
“Thanks for today,” she said, surprising herself.
He just smiled.
“I’m around if you want more of it.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes. The sun had dipped low, casting a soft amber glow across the fields. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied and the wind shifted, carrying the scent of dust and wildflowers.
Dustin stood first, brushing the dirt from his jeans.
“I’ll leave the barn light on if you come back tomorrow,” he said casually, like it wasn’t the biggest invitation she’d been given in years.
Jordyn nodded. “I might.”
He gave her that same quiet smile, the kind that didn’t ask for anything but still offered everything, and walked off toward the house, the dog limping beside him.
She watched him go.
Something in her chest pulled tight and strange.
It wasn’t just that he was kind. Or that he hadn’t asked for anything in return. It was that—sitting there, working side by side, listening to the rhythm of the ranch, she hadn’t felt like a burden.
She’d felt… normal.
Seen.
And it scared the hell out of her.
Jordyn slid off the tailgate, her boots crunching the gravel, and took one last look at the darkening sky before getting into her car.
She didn’t know what this was, whatever had started to crack open between them.
But she knew one thing for sure.
She wasn’t ready.
Not yet.