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“We’ll still have plenty of land left.”

“That plot is our durum wheat field, is it not?”

“Yes, but …” She sighs. “Things are getting harder. The last crop wasn’t the best. Nothing we could do, the weather didn’t cooperate. Maybe it’s time we sell it all off and take the money. I can retire, and you kids can use the money for your futures, your families. I don’t know. I’m tired. I want to relax and enjoy what’s left of my life.”

“I know. I—this isn’t what Dad would have wanted,” I protest. “He was all about keeping it in the family.”

“Well, he’s not here, is he? But I am, and this is what I think is best for us.”

My heart sinks. I’m going to have to go back, aren’t I? That’s the only way I’ll be able to save it from being sold off.

“You know what, I’ll come home at the end of the season and take it over so you can retire.”

“That’s not going to solve the issue of it bleeding money.”

“No, but you’ll get to retire,” I snap, roughing a hand through my hair. “I’ll figure it out. I have plenty of money to invest in it.”

“Is that really what you want to do? Sink all your hard-earned money into the farm?”

No, it’s not what I want to do, but it’s what needs to happen to keep it going.

“What about Sutton? How’s she going to take it?”

I brush Mum’s question off. “She’ll understand.”

It’s my responsibility as the oldest to see that the farm continues, that it’s passed down to another generation of Hendersons. All the years my parents put into the land, my grandparents, great-grandparents. I won’t let it get sold.

Mum tsks me. “No, Sebastian Marcus Henderson. You’re not meant to be a farmer. You’re meant to be a hockey player.”

“Mum.”

“Sebastian, stop being stubborn, and listen to me.”

I grimace. “I’m not being stubborn. I’m being reasonable.” I level her a look I hope conveys how serious I am.

“Do you even know how to manage a farm? All the things that go into it? The planning? The equipment?”

I shrug. “I’ll figure it out. I can learn.”

She’s silent for a few beats. “How about a compromise? We hire someone to manage the day-to-day now, but only if you agree to talk about selling at least some of the land at a later date and you promise not to come home and be a farmer.”

“I can’t—” I start to protest. I’m not going to promise that. My family and the farm come first, and if she needs me there, that’s where I should be.

She fixes me with her best mum expression that says not to argue. “Yes, you can.”

“Fine.” Maybe. Possibly. For now. If all goes well with whoever we hire.

“It’s settled, we’ll figure out hiring a farm manager.” She peers over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go. Talk soon.”

She clicks the End button before I can say bye.

“Fuccckkkk,” I hiss, dropping the phone onto the couch next to me. I guess at least I bought myself more time here with Sutton.

Just because it’s not the life I want doesn’t mean I won’t do it. I made a promise to my father when he was dying, one I intend to keep, because that’s what we Hendersons do—we keep our promises. I promised him I’d take care of my mum and my sisters, that I’d make sure Mum was able to retire. At the time, Harriet was going to run the farm, but that all changed when she fell in love with another farmer, which means I’ll have to step in eventually to secure the future of my family’s land, even if it means giving up my dreams.

Giving Sutton up.

Eventually.