Page 8 of Love Somebody Like You

His fingers dug into his hair, his mind spinning. What would he do? What would the others say? What would his brothers say? He gritted his teeth as the old envies rose. Dermott, who’d escaped while he could. Mitchell, the golden child, off living his dream of pro sports and reveling in all the money and fame that afforded him. Then there was Cooper, brainy as they came, who’d turned up his nose at working the land to chase dollars in tech industries. Leaving poor Ellie stuck here, unable to chase her dream of archeology, while Jackson had apparently run his dream of ranch ownership—of being the only Reilly to keep the family legacy going—straight into the ground. How could he ever admit to them what he could barely admit to himself: that he wasn’t the ranchman he’d dreamed of being since he was a boy. That he’d failed.

Nope. No way was he going to admit his failure to them. No way would he ever live it down. There had to be a way to make things work.

A hollow gnawing feeling swept through his chest, panic rising. Would they have to sell? What would that mean for Mom? She was the reason they kept so many things the same. What would it mean for Ellie and options for her future?

“Ahem.”

He spun in his chair to see Ellie grinning at the door.

“Sorry for interrupting. That looks like a new method for head massage. It must work, because you seemed miles away and didn’t hear me knocking.”

“Fiji would be nice, but I wasn’t miles away. Right here in fact.” He grimaced.

“You look like you need some fun.”

“Fun? What’s that?”

“Aww, poor Jackson, locked up in here like a martyr. Poor you. Hey, I just got an invite for a party at the Andersson’s on Thursday. Want to come?”

After the phone call he’d had, all he wanted was to stay focused on work, and try to squeeze every last dollar from this place. But the hopeful look on Ellie’s face was something he hadn’t seen for a while, so he tamped down the anxiety and pasted on a smile. “No promises, but maybe?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You always take anything I say and run with it.”

“Because I know you love me.”

True.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He sniffed the air, where a delectable scent promised there’d be a nice end to this day. “Whatever you’re cooking, keep on doing.”

She made a face. “It’s stew. Like you haven’t had that a hundred times before. No, what is it? What’s got you looking so worried?”

“I’m not worried.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, I am worried.” He picked up a plastic sticky tape dispenser and tossed it between his hands. “I’m worried about when you’re going to finally get a real job, one you actually want to do.”

Maybe her wages could contribute to the ranch if she had a real job. He could charge board. Great. Look at him, squeezing his own siblings for cash.

“I don’t need a real job. I’ve got one right here.”

“Nice try. You and I both know this is a temporary gig.”

The teasing look drained from her eyes. “What is it, Jackson? You look stressed. And I’m not used to seeing you stressed. The others, yes. But you …”

He bit his lip. When had his baby sister grown up and grown so smart? She might be twenty-four, but sometimes she seemed years older.

She drew closer. “Is it the ranch?”

“When is it not?”

Her nose wrinkled. “I’m sorry. Is there something I can do?”

“I know you’re doing the best you can. It’s not like you ever spend big.” He eyed her clothes, the stained t-shirt and years-old denim cutoffs. If he was doing things as he should, she’d be getting a new wardrobe every year, like other girls. But he wasn’t. Guilt strummed his chest.

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