Page 44 of Call It Love (Sterling Mill #5)

Chase

While Cam, Mac, Trey, and I had spent most of last night hammering out a detailed plan—what had to be done, in what order, and with what equipment, because of the limited space—Cam and Anna took over the communication front.

I wasn’t entirely sure what strings they were pulling, only that their phones pinged and rang nonstop with messages and phone calls.

Whatever they were organizing, I trusted them.

No stone would be left unturned with them in charge.

By the time Anna and I finally fell into bed, we were too exhausted to do anything but tangle up together and pass out the second our heads hit the pillows. But as dawn cracked the night sky, the farm came to life.

Down by the fields past the bunkhouse, the usual rhythm of morning work buzzed through the air.

My crews had shown up early to knock out their day’s work so they could volunteer afterward.

Bodie took charge, directing them as they loaded pallets with azaleas, viburnum, dwarf hollies, and other flowering shrubs—each tagged and sorted by order.

Trees for the newest shipment were still being dug up and their root balls wrapped for delivery.

Cam was posted at the road, clipboard in hand, barking out instructions like a general, as she flagged people down.

Family. Friends. Neighbors. Some came ready to work, others dropped off food, tools, or supplies.

She directed the bigger trucks—construction crews with equipment, trailers of compactors and grading tools—to continue toward the damaged tree fields.

From the bunkhouse, I heard laughter cutting through the clatter of pans and the slamming of oven doors.

I caught a glimpse of Mama Rae and Anna in the kitchen.

The aroma of bacon and sausage filled the air.

And to my astonishment, Beverly Seymour was working right alongside them.

Anna looked up as I passed. Her hair was pulled back in a messy twist, a streak of flour across one cheek, but her eyes met mine with a steady, warm smile.

That smile alone was enough to push me forward.

Bodie intercepted me near the main greenhouse, wiping his hands on his pants. “Morning orders are handled,” he said. “We’ve got this covered down here. You go take care of the trees.”

I clapped his shoulder. “Appreciate it,” I said, and meant it more than he probably realized. I owed that man, and the others, a bonus.

As I crossed the yard toward the trucks staging up to head up the mountain, I heard footsteps catching up behind me.

“Hey—where do you want me?” Jordan asked, tugging on a pair of work gloves that were still a little too big. He fell into step beside me, his tone casual, but there was a spark in his eyes he couldn’t hide. The kind of excitement you try to play cool when you don’t want to seem like a kid .

I slowed and turned to face him.

He wasn’t fidgeting. Wasn’t bouncing. He stood a little taller, met my eyes without flinching, his chin tipped up a bit like he wanted to earn his place, not be given it.

The pride that hit me was sharp and quiet. Unexpected in the best way.

I nodded once. “How about by my side?”

His smile came quickly but contained—and he gave a sharp nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

“All right, partner. Let’s get to it.”

By mid-morning, the trucks had stopped rolling in, and the air in the Christmas tree fields buzzed with movement.

The mountain of dirt that had been dumped last night was already a fraction of its size as front loaders carried piles of it to some locations, while wheelbarrows rolled it to smaller places.

I spotted Cam up ahead, standing on the flatbed of a trailer in her pink construction boots like it was a stage, directing volunteers with quick gestures.

“Are you in charge now?” I asked when I walked by.

Cam shot a smirk over her shoulder. “Was I ever not?”

I laughed. “Fair enough. It’s definitely more like a construction zone. You’re definitely in your element here. Gramps would be so proud of you.”

Her face grew a little wistful at the memory of the man who’d mentored her. “Gotta say, moving at this speed, I’m having flashbacks of my time on Renovation Station .”

“Hopefully, we have a winner at the end of this.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “Hey, Mac and I came out all right in the end. But I get what you’re saying. If they don’t pick your tree, I’m gonna cut it down myself and shove it up someone’s?—”

“Okay, then,” I stopped her. “No need to get violent. If we win, great. If not, that’s okay. This has still turned into something special.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. But still, maybe a little stick up Marcus’s ass is still called for.”

“You are frightening sometimes,” I mumbled.

She stared at me. “Get back to work. No special treatment just because you own the place.” She attempted to glare at me, but the sparkle in her eye gave her away.

I shook my head and grabbed another wheelbarrow of dirt. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Further out, Trey and Mac were overseeing the regrading of the truck path. They moved methodically, teaching a couple of younger guys how to pack the dirt right and add the gravel to create enough for traction without washing out in the next rain.

I glanced over my shoulder when I heard a familiar voice.

“Hey! Need straw over here!”

Jordan stood next to a tree, shovel in hand, sweat streaking his forehead and dirt clinging to his jeans. He waved to a passing group with straw bales, then turned and looked over at me, waiting for a nod of approval.

“You’re doing great work,” I said, walking over to him. “You tired yet?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, though he was clearly sweating. “Little bit. But it’s worth it. This is kinda awesome, actually.”

I looked around and saw what he meant. Slowly but surely, the damage was being repaired. A couple more hours of work, and it would be done. In the fall, I could remove the straw and plant grass seed, but for now, it was starting to look whole again.

By mid-afternoon, the fields didn’t look the same.

All the ruts in the field were filled and smoothed, the damaged earth around the trees had been carefully raked and mulched with hay, the saplings that could be saved had been replanted, and the main drives had been graded with new gravel, thanks to a local contractor selling a couple of truckfuls to me at cost.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was solid. And it was enough.

People were tired, but everywhere I looked, there were smiles. The kind that came from doing something hard and knowing it mattered.

Jordan’s face was streaked with dirt, hair sticking up, but he was grinning like he’d just conquered a mountain, which, in a way, he had. Anna and Emalee had packed up the last of the coolers.

I climbed onto the back of one of the flatbeds, cleared my throat, and raised my hand.

Most of the chatter died down without me needing to say anything. A few heads turned. People leaned against tailgates or stood with hands on hips, waiting.

I wasn’t much for speeches. Never had been. But some things need saying.

“I know everyone’s wiped,” I started, voice carrying just enough. “You’ve got blisters and sore muscles, and you’re probably going to find gravel in your socks for the next week. I’m also pretty sure a few of you are going to sleep through your alarms tomorrow.”

A few laughs rolled out across the group, tired but genuine.

“But look at this,” I said, turning slightly to gesture at the field behind me. “This place was a wreck this morning. Now? Now it looks better than before. Not because it’s perfect, but because we did it together.”

There were a few cheers and claps.

“I don’t take it lightly that you showed up with tools, food, or just willing hands.

No one got asked twice. You just came. Early, late, or even on a day off.

I’m beyond grateful.” My throat tightened, but I kept going.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about legacy, and what it means.

And I’ll tell you this. Sterling Mill has one of the best out there.

It isn’t in a name, or our feathered mayor, although don’t tell him that,” I joked, making everyone laugh.

“It’s in the way our community shows up for each other.

You’ve proven it again and again. So, yeah.

Thanks doesn’t feel like enough. But I’ll say it anyway. Thank you. Thank you for showing up.”

Someone let out a loud whistle. Someone else clapped. Then more hands followed—scattered applause that swelled for a moment before fading out into the still evening air.

I rubbed the back of my neck and cleared my throat again. “All right. Before this gets any more sentimental, I’ll end with this. No matter the results of the committee, I know I’ve already won. Because I have you.”

There were a lot of “awws.” I looked across and caught Anna wiping a tear from her eye.

I smiled a little sheepishly. “Now, go home. Shower. And sleep like you earned it. ’Cause you did.”

That got a few more chuckles. Cam gave me a thumbs-up from near her truck. Jordan was beaming under all that dirt. Even Trey cracked a big smile.

Trucks and cars roared to life as people left, and soon it was just members of my family left.

Cam dropped onto one of the ice chests with a groan. “ Just leave me right here,” she said dramatically. “I’m too tired to move.”

Mac, sitting nearby, tossed her a bottle of water and smirked. “Not a chance,” he said, voice low and easy. “I’m way too attached to you, trouble and all.”

Cam laughed, tossing the bottle back at him. But there was a glow in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun she’d stood in for much of the day. She leaned over and bumped her knee against his. “Lucky for you, I’m not easy to get rid of.”

“Lucky for both of us,” Mac said, his voice softer this time as he helped her up. Then he, Cam, and Trey said goodbye and left, as did Bristol and Reid.

Anna leaned over and bumped her shoulder against mine lightly.

“Not bad for a Monday,” she murmured, making me chuckle.

“Not bad for any day,” I answered.