Page 112 of Ashes of the Past
Chapter Forty-Six
Jack
I stand with my hands on my hips, staring out over the land, the dry, cracked earth stretching as far as I can see. The sound of the wind rustling the few leaves left on the trees is the only thing breaking the silence. It’s been months since the last rain, and the wells are running low. I can’t keep pretending that we’ll make it much longer without water.
“How much longer you think we can last?” Nick asks, walking up beside me. He looks as tired as I feel, his face weathered from the constant sun.
I shake my head. “Don’t know. Been thinking we could truck in some water again, but that’s gonna cost us. And even then, it ain’t gonna last forever.”
He grunts, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Hell, we’re already running on fumes. At this rate, we might as well pack it in.”
“We’re not packing it in.” I say it like I mean it, but deep down, I’m not sure if I believe myself. “We’ll figure something out.”
“You always say that,” Nick mutters, more to himself than me.
I glance at him, my frustration boiling over. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Nick just shrugs, not bothering to meet my eyes. “You’ve always found a way before. Just… don’t know how much more we can squeeze out of this place. You might have to think about making some hard decisions.”
I can feel the weight of those words in my chest. Hard decisions. Selling the land. Letting go of the cattle. But if it comes down to it, maybe there’s no other choice.
“Have you heard from Brynn?” Nick asks, breaking my spiraling thoughts.
I sigh, shaking my head. “No. She’s been avoiding me.”
Nick raises an eyebrow. “That so?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, turning my gaze back to the barren horizon. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I’ve tried everything, and nothing seems like enough to prove I’m serious. She’s not listening.”
He grins, though it’s a knowing kind of grin, one that tells me he thinks he has the answer. “You’re gonna have to set her down and force her to listen, Jack. She’s a stubborn one, that girl.”
I chuckle. “Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it. But what the hell would you have me do? You know how she is.”
He shrugs, still grinning. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve been playing it safe. You’ve got to do something drastic. Something she can’t ignore.”
I stare at him, thinking over his words. The thing is, he’s right. Brynn’s been avoiding me, shutting me out more than usual lately. I don’t know if she’s mad at me for firing Lane and that she blames me for what happened or if I’m overthinking that and it has nothing to do with that night at all. I don’t know if it’s the pressure from the ranch, the water situation, orsomething else entirely, but I know one thing for sure: I’m losing her.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel interrupts our conversation, and we both turn toward the house. Brynn’s truck pulls in front of her house.
I don’t know what it is about the way Brynn carries herself, but something in the set of her shoulders tells me she’s not in the mood for any more talking.
I glance over at Nick. “She’s gonna get it sooner or later. Maybe she’ll come around.”
“You’re running out of time, Jack.”
I nod, reluctantly agreeing with him. But before I can say anything else, Brynn and Olivia step out of the truck and walk toward the house. Brynn doesn’t even glance in my direction as she goes inside. That’s the part that stings the most. The silence. The way she’s been shutting me out more and more.
“Heya, Mr. Jack, Mr. Nick,” Olivia says, her voice full of warmth despite the tension hanging in the air.
Brynn doesn’t even acknowledge us; she just keeps walking inside. Olivia hesitates for a second, glancing back at me with a look I can’t quite read, then follows her mother inside.
“She’s got her mind made up, doesn’t she?” Nick says, his voice quieter now.
I don’t answer. It’s not that I don’t care. I do. But Brynn’s been slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know how much more I can do to keep holding on.
About an hour later, I hear the door swing open, and Olivia comes running out. She stops short when she sees me standing by the barn, leaning against the fence, my arms crossed.
“It’s time for dinner.”
