The question is: What am I walking into? And more importantly, how deep are Jesse, Truett, and our families involved in whatever it is?
By the time I pull back onto the main road and head toward the ranch, dark clouds are building on the horizon, and I have a sinking feeling that the storm approaching isn’t just about the weather.
TWELVE
JESSE
“It’s gettin’late. She should’ve been back by now,” I mumble as Denver and I sit at the barn, waiting for Aubree to show up. We’re here to unload the feed for her, but we’ve been waiting for over an hour. “Think something happened to her?”
Denver shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Check out those clouds.” He points to the west. “I think she’s probably run into rain, and it’s headed this way. Possibly a storm.”
Why I didn’t see it before, I’ll never know, but he’s right. There are black clouds building on the horizon. “Think we should give her a call and see what’s happening?”
“That’s up to you.” Denver’s tone is amused. “But I’ve never known you to be worried about a damn thing before.”
I just don’t let him see it. I worry about every fucking thing and have since we lost our parents. That’s a trauma you never get over. Becoming responsible for your entire family within a few hours as a teenager. Stepping further into the barn so that I can have some privacy, I place a call to her cell. Hopefully, she hasn’t changed the number in all these years.
When she answers, I can hear the pounding of the rain against the truck.
“Jesse?”
“Yeah, you okay? Shoulda been here an hour ago.” I do my best not to let my tone be as gruff as I’d like for it to be.
“Ran into a storm, and the road is flooding. Should be home in the next thirty minutes or so. Won’t be able to get this unloaded, though. They put a tarp over it before I left.”
Nodding, I take off my gloves and put them in my back pocket. “All right, just head to the barn when ya get here. I’ll be waiting, and we can ride out the storm.”
“See you soon.”
Denver looks over, his eyebrows raised. “What’s the plan?”
“Head home,” I instruct him. “Rain is coming, and if it’s anything like it sounded hitting that truck, we ain’t going out tonight anyway. Too easy to be caught with tire tracks and footprints. I’ll help her when she gets here. Y’all head on out. Cookie’s not making dinner tonight.”
“You sure you don’t need help?” he confirms before grabbing the keys to the truck.
“Positive. Go get your brothers and head to the house.”
He salutes me before jogging to his truck and getting in. Once he takes off, all I do is sit and watch the drive for the headlights I know will be Aubree.
The first drops of rain start falling just as I see headlights cutting through the growing darkness. Right on time, as always. Even after all these years, Aubree’s timing is impeccable.
I jog out to meet her as she parks near the barn, and by the time she’s stepping out of the truck, the sky has opened up completely. Fat raindrops turn into a torrential downpour in seconds.
“Shit!” she yells over the sound of rain hammering the metal roof of the truck. “This came out of nowhere when I was on my way home.”
“Come on!” I grab her hand, and we run for the barn, both of us soaked through before we make it five steps.
The barn doors are heavy, but I manage to get them open far enough for us to slip inside. The sound of rain on the tin roof is deafening, drowning out everything else.
We stand there for a moment, dripping and breathing hard. Aubree’s honey-blonde hair is plastered to her head, and her flannel shirt clings to every curve of her body. She looks like a drowned rat, and she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Jesus.” She laughs, pushing wet hair out of her face. “I haven’t been caught in rain like that since I was a kid.”
“You’re soaked through,” I observe, trying not to focus on how the wet fabric of her shirt has become nearly transparent. “And you’re shivering.”
She wraps her arms around herself, and I can see goose bumps rising on her skin. “A little. It’s colder than I expected.”
Without thinking, I step closer and start rubbing my hands up and down her arms, trying to generate some warmth through friction. The movement brings us close together, close enough that I can see the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes.
