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“So, we can’t hire anyone younger than sixteen. Sorry, son.”

He turned away, feeling a pull on his heart he couldn’t figure out. So what if he recognized the kid from town? He didn’t owe Ren anything just because they might’ve seen each other before.

But he couldn’t help it. He glanced back and something stopped him in his tracks.

Maybe it was the strength in Ren’s stance, like he was a prize fighter used to getting knocked around.

Maybe it was the sea-green eyes that Jax couldn’t shake the feeling of having seen before.

Maybe it was the way he squared off, ready to keep going. This kid either hadn’t been told no or that was all he was ever dished. It was probably the latter.

Jax’s chest ached. “I might be able to get you a job as a high school intern,” he said, pulling from Jill’s brilliant idea with the other teen who’d shown up on the ranch last week. “Do you go to Deer Creek High School?”

“No. I’m … I’m not from here.”

“Hmm. Lemme see what else I can do, okay?”

Ren didn’t shake his head, nod, or even blink. Finally, after what seemed like a full minute of a staring contest Jax didn’t want to lose, Ren spoke.

“Why … why’d you call me ‘son’?”

Jax quirked the corner of his lips up. “It’s just a figure of speech, kid. Don’t get all weird about it.”

The boy standing in front of him—on the cusp of becoming a man—held his gaze, but his eyes became laser-focused. The hint of familiar became overwhelming as Ren came closer. It wasn’t just the green eyes but the hint of gold along the edge that made Jax rub the back of his neck. It was sweaty and uncomfortable.

“I’ve got to get going, Ren.” But the boy didn’t move. Jax threw up his hands. “Okay, fine. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You can tell me what you liked about my mom,” Ren said.

Jax’s stomach flipped twice before settling deep in his abdomen. The blood in his head drained to the same place. Nausea rose in his throat, acidic and hot.

“How would I know who your mom is?”

“Because you obviously liked her enough to get her pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Jax choked out. His knees lost the ability to hold him up, and he buckled. At least the wall was there to hold him up.

“With me.”

Jax’s skin went cold before the hammer came down to smash him into a million frozen pieces.

“I’m your son.”

*

Jax wasn’t sure how much time passed while the kid—no, teenager—stared at him, waiting for a response.

Maybe hours? Had the sun set? Jax couldn’t tell. He was numb but somehow also cold and hot at the same time. Was he hungry? When had he eaten last? What had he eaten? Man, he should stop eating so many simple carbs. He liked salad.

Oh, yeah. He’d make a salad that night with dinner.

Dinner. He couldn’t make a salad. He had—

He stared at Ren and Ren stared back. Neither moved.

Jax had dinner with his mom and Bennett again tonight.

And then here was this kid, standing there, looking like he wanted an answer. To what, again? It was something important, but he couldn’t think straight.