Page 1 of Why We Break

CHAPTER 1

HANNAH

You know the people who say things can always get worse? It’s usually thrown out by an elderly lady from town or that overly optimistic friend who doesn’t know what to say after hearing an especially sad story. It’s meant to remind you to be thankful for what you have. It seems like an answer for everything: Your boyfriend was cheating on you? It could always be worse—at least you had a boyfriend to begin with!

Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but as I stare down at the pile of bills in my hand stamped with the words “FINAL NOTICE” in glaring red letters, I would really like to punch every one of those well-meaning Betty’s and Susan’s in the face.

Don’t cry, Hannah. Pull your shit together and figure it out.I close my eyes and repeat the mantra over and over in my head as though I can make the huge stack of invoices on the kitchen counter disappear if I just focus hard enough. Of course, that doesn’t work, and when I open them again the proof of my failure is still staring back at me.

Blowing out a breath, I walk over to the sink to pour myself a cup of water from the filter on the faucet. As I turn the knob, my glass fills for a moment before the faucet goes haywire, and cold water sprays my face and chest.

Mother of Jesus, that is freaking FREEZING!

I fumble with the handle again, trying to stop the icy liquid only to accidentally turn it up higher, thoroughly soaking the Springside Cheerleading shirt I’m still wearing from coaching practice this afternoon. Once I finally get it to stop, I pull my tee over my head where it lands on the floor with a wet plop leaving me standing in my running shorts and sports bra.

Giving up on the sink and adding a plumber to the eventual list of expenses I’ll need to figure out how to pay, I throw a towel on the ground to soak up the water before walking back to the stack of envelopes I feel certain will haunt my dreams for the foreseeable future. I glare at the offending pile of mail that’s now a bit soggy, as if my withering stare will magically solve all my problems, and eventually, knowing they won’t sort themselves, start to grab the three off the top. Laying them out to dry, I glance at the totals and struggle to remind myself,it’s going to be fine. You’re going to make it work like you always do. There’s literally no other option.

I’d just gotten home from a long day of teaching and coaching cheer practice. All I’d wanted was to curl up with my Kindle and read the latest sports romance I have downloaded with the frozen pizza I’d picked up this past weekend. Clearly, my date with melty-cheese and a fictional six-foot-five football player is now as unlikely as me being able to cover all of these bills.

Every month it seems like the cost of the farm goes up a bit more, but I hadn’t expected this big of a jump. I guess I should have expected it after all the repairs I’ve had to do around here, but I haven’t let myself focus too much on it since I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is. It seems like every time I turn around, something else is falling apart, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to make everything work the way it’s supposed to.

I’ve cut every corner I can think of, and I’ve watched every YouTube video on maintaining farm equipment that I can find to try to save when I can. Who knew single-handedly keeping the family ranch going required more than a can-do attitude and a good work ethic?

I never planned to be a twenty-eight-year-old high school science teacher with more farm animals and debt than I know what to do with, but what can I say? I guess this is what happens when your parents run off on you while you’re in middle school, and the only family member who ever gave a damn about you is slowly slipping away in a nursing home down the road.

Before my parents decided to ditch me, I’d always looked forward to weekends and summers spent out here. There was just something magical about Falling Oaks Farm. I used to look forward to coming to visit Gramps and my MiMi, his late wife, and they always made sure I was happy and well taken care of, despite the lack of interest my parents had in actually being parents. When I was younger, Gramps would show me the different parts of the farm, making up stories and giving me little jobs as we went. And now, Falling Oaks is the only home I’ve ever known.

After spending a few minutes prioritizing the most important bills, I separate them into piles of “pay this now” and “it can probably wait until next month” before picking up my phone and calling my best friend, Caroline. She’s been my rock for as long as I can remember, and I know if anyone can help me figure out what the hell I’m going to do, it’s her. Over the last decade, Caroline’s become the closest thing I have to family outside of my gramps, and I love her to death. You’d think that between working and coaching together, in addition to our weekly Monday margarita dates, we’d get tired of each other, but it sure hasn’t happened yet.

“Hey, Han. What’s up?” Caroline says after she answers on the second ring.

“If I decide to rob the Piggly Wiggly, will you be my getaway driver?” I ask, skipping over any platitudes and getting straight to the point.

She lets out a quick burst of laughter before saying, “Babe, you know I love you but I’m not risking a lifetime in orange for the four hundred dollars you might get from the Pig. You know Melvin ordered those new heavy-duty cash registers after Miss Mabel pitched a fit and whacked the old one with her cane when they quit stocking the sugar last year anyway. We’d never get the stupid thing open.”

I blow out a sigh before agreeing, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m definitely thinking too small. Maybe we should try the Walmart in Crestview. I bet we could make bank there!”

“Han, what’s going on? You know I’m always down to help you, but I think we can find a less extreme way to solve whatever issues you have right now,” my best friend reminds me gently.

“Damn it, I know you’re right,” I say. “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing,” I tell her while putting my phone on speaker and walking into the kitchen to grab my favorite three-dollar bottle of Moscato out of the fridge.

I’m reaching for a glass by the window as Caroline asks, “Is it your grandfather? Whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

I open my mouth to respond to her before something out the window catches my eye across the field. “Mother fucker!” I mutter, startling Caroline on the other end of the line.

“Okay, enough. What the hell is going on over there?” she asks, sounding increasingly alarmed.

“One of the cows is trying to give birth and I see her straining from here. I noticed she looked like she was ready yesterday, but I’m worried the calf is stuck. And it looks like a tree also fell on the fence again at some point today while I was at work, so some of the others are making a run for it. It’s on the other side of the field, so I didn’t notice when I pulled in,” I yell, grabbing my phone and throwing my shoes back on my feet.

“Damn it,” my best friend says. “Theo is out in the fields right now, but I’m going to get him now. We’ll be there ASAP. But I’ll send a text to the group too, because Margaret, Will, and Seth can probably be there quicker than we can.”

“God, don’t call them. Just bring the grumpy fire chief,” I say, referring to Theo, Caroline’s new fiancé. They met a few months ago and fell fast for each other. They are perfect together, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

His arrival also brought his sister Margaret into our lives, and she quickly turned Caroline and my friendship into a trio.

As for Seth, I wouldn’t mind putting his muscles to work with the situation in front of me. But it’s the remaining member of our friend group that causes me to feel the frustration rising in my veins just thinking about him witnessing my current predicament.

Here’s the thing—Coach Will Thompson is the bane of my existence. The two of us have been endlessly joined together thanks to our small town and our friendship with Caroline, but we haven’t been able to get through more than a few minutes together without arguing in years. Inwardly I know he’s not as selfish as I like to pretend he is. But we both have too much pride to ever let the other get the last word in.

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