Page 37 of Faking It With the Single Dad

Ryan exhales heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. “Not much good about it for me.”

I stop wiping and lean against the counter, curious. “What’s going on?”

“Jerry.” He says the name like it’s a curse as he tosses his phone onto the counter. “He’s the man who’s in possession of the land now, according to the database. He’s refusing to leave the land. Now he’s talking about dragging this into court. It’s ridiculous.”

I frown, trying to piece together the details. Ryan explains that Jerry is a stubborn older man squatting on a portion of land that legally should belong to the Blackwood family. Apparently, Jerry claims he has some kind of right to stay there.

I know Jerry. He’s a deeply reclusive man who doesn’t want to be bothered by anyone. The few interactions I’ve had with him weren’t terrible, though.

“Remind me,” I say, “what’s Jerry’s argument? Why does he think the land is his?”

Ryan leans forward, elbows on his knees. “He doesn’t have one. Not a legitimate one, anyway. He’s been living on a section of the land for years—illegally, I might add—and now he’s acting like it’s his birthright. My family’s owned that property for generations. It was my grandfather’s farm before it passed to my father, and then to me.” His voice tightens with frustration. “He’s refusing to move, and now he’s threatening to tie this up in legal battles, knowing it’ll cost me precious time which I cannot afford to waste.”

I purse my lips, sensing his frustration, but also curious about Jerry’s side of things. “Why would he stay if he knows the law isn’t on his side? People don’t usually dig in without a reason.”

Ryan lets out a humorless laugh. “Jerry’s reason is simple: he hates me. He thinks I’m just some rich guy trying to throw my weight around.”

“Have you talked to him directly?”

Ryan gives me a sharp look. “What do you think? Of course I have. He doesn’t want to talk; he wants to argue.”

I hesitate, turning the problem over in my mind. “Maybe he just needs to hear from someone who isn’t you. I don’t think he’s a terrible person. I feel he just needs someone who can sympathize with him.”

Ryan’s brow furrows. “You think you can get through to him?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

***

The drive out to the property is tense. Ryan grips the steering wheel tighter than necessary, and I can feel his frustration simmering beneath the surface. The land comes into view after a while—a stretch of rolling fields bordered by dense trees. Even in winter, there’s a quiet beauty to it.

“That’s it,” Ryan says, gesturing toward a modest house in the distance. “The land stretches back for acres. It’s been in my family for decades.”

There’s pride in his voice, but also a hint of pain. I glance at him, wondering what it must feel like to have someone trying to steal part of your family’s legacy.

Jerry steps out of the house as we pull up, wiping his hands on a rag. He’s older than I remembered, his weathered face framed by graying hair. He eyes the car warily, his posture stiff.

“Bella Parker,” Jerry says when I step out. His tone is cautious, but there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Hi, Jerry,” I say, walking toward him. “It’s been a while.”

Jerry nods, but when his gaze shifts to Ryan, his expression hardens. “What’s this about? Another round of threats?”

Ryan starts to respond, but I step between them, raising a hand. “No threats, Jerry. I just want to talk.”

Jerry squints at me, his arms crossed over his chest. “Talk about what? Your fancy friend here trying to kick me off my land?”

“It’s not your land, Jerry,” Ryan cuts in, his voice cold. “It never was.”

I shoot Ryan a warning glance, silently pleading for him to let me handle this. To his credit, he steps back, though his tension is palpable.

“Can we take a walk?” I ask Jerry, keeping my tone calm.

He hesitates before nodding. “Fine. But just you.”

***

The cold air bites at my cheeks as we walk along the edge of the property. The fields stretch out before us, barren now but still holding the echoes of a history I can almost feel.

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