“I’ll make sure your mare’s ready.”
“You always do.”
My chest tightened. “I’ll see you soon, kiddo.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you.”
When the call ended, the kitchen went quiet again, the kind of quiet that pressed in instead of settling.
I finished my coffee, grabbed my keys, and headed out. Standing still wasn’t doing me any favors, and I needed to put my hands on something solid before my head started spinning again.
The drive into town was short and familiar. Fields rolled past in long green and gold stretches, the early light softening everything it touched. By the time I pulled into the gravel lot north of town, the brewery was already awake. A delivery truck idled near the loading door, steam drifting from its exhaust, and the big glass windows reflected the pale sky like the place was breathing in daylight.
Inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of grain and wood smoke. The kitchen crew was already moving, trays lined up along the prep tables, low voices cutting through thehum of refrigeration. Someone laughed near the back, the sound easy and familiar.
I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
Mark was behind the bar checking inventory sheets, his pen tapping lightly against the clipboard. He looked up when he saw me, nodded once, and slid the papers across so I could scan them. I pointed out a miscount on one of the kegs, and he made a note without argument before heading toward the cold room to double-check.
I moved through the space after that, checking taps, fixing a handle that’d been sticking, adjusting a dimmer near the stone fireplace so the light wouldn’t be too harsh once the lunch crowd rolled in. I stopped to talk with the head cook about the menu and the supplier delivery, making sure everything lined up with what we promised. Locally raised beef, roasted chicken, and fresh seafood that came in early that morning. It mattered to me that the place stayed honest, that it felt rooted in the land.
By midmorning, the doors opened, and people drifted in the way they always did. Ranchers grabbing coffee before heading back out. A couple of older locals settled into the chairs near the fireplace, talking low and slow like they had nowhere else they needed to be. The brewery wasn’t just a business. It was an anchor. A place people came when they needed solid ground under their feet.
I stayed behind the bar longer than usual, pouring coffee, answering questions, lending a hand when needed. The rhythm steadied me. The work gave my hands something to do while my mind stayed half a step removed from everything.
Still, every so often, my thoughts drifted.
Not to the road. Not to the door.
To the knowledge that Tessa was out there, trying to hold together a ranch that was barely standing, carrying weight she hadn’t asked for, and anger she didn’t know where to put.
I figured she’d avoid town for a while. But the town would pull her in eventually. It always did. And when it happened, I wanted the Brewery to feel like solid ground, not another ambush.
Seventeen
Tessa
The morning sky hung low and pale, the light that made every window on Main Street glow. Trucks rolled past the four-way stop with that familiar small-town patience, tires whispering over pavement that had seen more gossip than traffic.
I drove in with both hands on the wheel and my shoulders tight, even though I knew this road like the back of my hand. Nothing much here changed, and I hadn’t realized that over the last week I’d been here, because I hadn’t left the ranch since Monday.
At the corner by the hardware store, two men leaned on a stack of feed bags, coffee cups in their hands. One lifted his chin as I passed, recognition sharpening his expression.
I pulled my truck into a spot in front of the clinic and forced my voice to sound normal.
“That you, Tessa?” A man called from the hardware store.
“Morning, Dale.” Dale MacIntosh had been a fixture in this town since I was a child. And he was still sitting in the same place as always, whittling a piece of wood.
He smiled like he’d won something. “Are you back forgood?” The question wasn’t casual. None of them were casual.
“For now,” I said with a shrug, since I didn’t really know what was happening with my life.
Dale nodded like that meant he could stop wondering. “Good. Town’s been missing you.”
“Town should get a hobby,” I muttered under my breath and headed for the clinic door.
