Page 62 of Ashes of the Past
Dad, Paulo, Trevor, and Stan, our other ranch hands, and Olivia climb into my truck.
The drive is a blur. My fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. The silence in the truck is suffocating, filled with all the things I can’t say. I’m sure everyone thinks I’m just upset because Jack works for us, because he’s part of the ranch. They don’t see it. They don’t know. And I can’t let them.
“I don’t know how we didn’t see him,” Trevor mutters.
“The smoke was so thick,” Stan says.
“He ran in there before any of us did. I wondered how the Brama bull got out, then thought what a wild thought to have in the middle of the chaos,” Paulo says.
I smile to myself.
Good to know we all have those wild, intrusive thoughts.
The Brama is our most expensive bull. He’s our biggest breeder and rules the roost. He has his own section of that barn specifically because he’s cantankerous in his old age. When Dad takes cattle to auction, we can set a higher price because of his lineage.
Shit. Lane would know that, and it could absolutely be why that barn was attacked.
I sigh inwardly and try to push those thoughts away. My focus should be on driving, getting us to the hospital safely, and making sure that Jack is okay. Not playing Scooby Doo and trying to figure out who did this. That can come later.
We pull into the parking lot and walk into the waiting room.
“Should I call his mom or Joanne?” I ask out loud.
“Rick said he called Joanne,” Dad answers.
Dad goes up to the front desk to let the nurse there know that we’re here for Jack. The waiting room feels like a cage. The air is thick with worry, and every tick of the clock grates against my nerves.
Mrs. Renfrew, Joanne, Ava, and Bret scurry into the hospital. The kids are still in their pajamas and plop down on the chairs around Olivia.
“Have you heard anything?” Mrs. Renfrew asks.
Dad shakes his head. She walks over to the nurse with Joanne in tow. A few minutes later, a doctor walks out.
“Jack has internal bleeding from blunt force trauma to the abdomen. We’re going to perform surgery to fix it. I’ll be back out to let you know how everything goes.”
My legs feel like they’re going to give out, but I force myself to stay standing. Mrs. Renfrew clutches at her chest, and Joanne puts her arm around her, then helps her to sit down.
“He’s tough,” Joanne whispers. “He’ll pull through.”
I nod as if she’s talking to me, swallowing the lump in my throat. I can’t fall apart. Not here. Not now. I sit down across from them, trying to blend into the background. Dad is pacing and talking to the other hands about what needs to be done tomorrow.
“Remember when he saved that dog from the sewer?” Joanne asks with a giggle.
“It smelled so bad, but he didn’t care. He watched that horrible human being drop that puppy in there, and he went after it.” Mrs. Renfrew says as she shakes her head. Her eyes meet mine. “He’s always had such a big heart. He can’t stand to see anyone else hurting.”
“Always the first to help out. He and Jason changed their treehouse into a doll hous of sorts for me, saying they were too old for the treehouse. Jack was helping me into it, and I slid. He tried to save me and ended up breaking his arm,” Joanne adds.
“He’s always been like that,” his mom says, her voice soft but steady. “He cares so much, but he’s always tried to hide it. Keeps himself closed off, like he’s afraid of getting hurt. He’s always been the one to shoulder everything for the rest of us.”
Joanne nods. “That’s just Jack. He’s got the biggest heart, but he doesn’t want anyone to see it. That’s why he went to help Jason, then sacrificed so much to stay there and help raise Tate.”
I sit there, listening, my heart aching with every word. They’re showing me sides of him I’ve never seen, pieces of a puzzle I’ve been trying to put together for so long. And yet, I can’t let myself show how much it matters. To them, I’m just part owner, the boss. I’m upset because he’s part of the team, because it’s my responsibility. That’s all they see.
“He really closed off after he learned Savannah…cheated on him,” Mrs. Renfrew says. “I don’t know…I don’t know if he’ll ever come back from that. He’s so sad.”
Inside, I’m unraveling. Every story they tell, every memory they share, it’s like a knife twisting in my chest. I want to scream, to cry, to tell them that Jack is more to me than they could ever imagine.
Do I only feel this way because he almost died? Am I in shock and this is some weird syndrome I’ve never heard of? Like Stockholm syndrome, but different?
