Page 2 of Crossroads

TWO

“Well, did she say anything to you?” I ask, hating that my voice is shaky and uncertain. But my entire world has been wrecked this past week.

Amelia—or Millie as most of us have called her since kindergarten—looks over at me, shovel in hand as she works to clean out the barn. Her face tells me she is not in the mood for my chattiness. But whatever. I need to talk, and she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.

She shovels shit into the wagon, then leans her chin on the handle of the shovel, with her small, gloved hands wrapped around it. “She just needs some space, Jasper. It’s not a big deal.”

I start shoveling again, trying not to be too offended by her words.

Millie is a no-nonsense human. She doesn’t get emotional often.

She cares, but she’s one to give it to you straight.

Most of the time, I love that about her, but not really today.

Today, I’m a guy who got dumped by his girlfriend of three years the day after we graduated from high school.

Without much of an explanation at all. All Lucy said was, “It’s over, Jasper. I need some space.”

Fucking space. Are you kidding me? We live in a tiny, small town in Western Kansas. We have all the open spaces out here a person could need.

“Really? Not a big deal?” I grunt, pushing my shovel through the muck of the barn floor and lift it, disposing of it in the wagon. “We dated for three years. And then she just throws me away like I’m nothing. Why? Because she’s going to college in three months?”

“What’s the matter, Jasper? Pissed off she dumped you now instead of at the end of the summer? Mourning all that summer nookie?” She waggles her auburn eyebrows at me in a ridiculous fashion.

And yeah, it makes me grin a little. “Who the hell even says nookie? And you know it was more than that for me.” I finish with my shovel and take hers too, putting them both up but unable to really feel any satisfaction from being done.

I actually love working on the Wright farm.

I have since I was fifteen and pretty much knew this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

I mean, not necessarily working for the Wrights—though I do like them a whole lot—but I want to save enough to buy my own land and run my own ranch someday.

But today and this past week, I just feel like shit. And Lucy did that to me. It’s not like I thought we’d get married right away. I knew she wanted to leave Kensley for a bit—go to college and shit—which was fine with me. But I still thought I was part of her long-term plans.

Guess not.

“You have to stop sulking. You’re eighteen. Chances were you guys weren’t going to work out anyway,” Millie says as she grabs the feed for the cattle, and I resist the urge to take it instead to help her out.

That would piss Millie off quicker than anything. She’s a tiny girl—barely over five feet and can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds—but you don’t fuck with Millie Wright. She can keep up with guys twice her size and does daily.

We hop on the John Deer Gator that’s not a toy, by the way. Kelly has had to remind us of that on occasion, but man, is it fun to drive through the muddy trails on the property. Not that it’s muddy at the moment though. Dust flies from beneath the tires as we roll through the path.

We bring the food down to the cattle, both of us fairly quiet on the drive down. Some people think of Millie as cold and distant, but I know she’s not trying to hurt my feelings. She’s just being logical.

I know the world would think the odds of Lucy and me being together forever were slim, but hell, Millie’s parents have been married for thirty-five years. My own parents just celebrated their twentieth wedding anniversary. And Lucy’s parents will also next winter.

They all married young and are happy as hell. Is it so wrong to think I’d have that too someday? I thought we wanted the same things.

“I just can’t believe she needs space from me,” I say, pouring the food into the troughs. “I’m her best friend.”

“Actually, I’m her best friend,” she counters.

“Ouch, Mills.”

She just grins, shaking her head at me like I’m an adorable little puppy that got in the way of someone’s foot and got kicked. Millie looks at me like that a lot, if I’m honest.

“We’ve always been friends,” I say as I put the empty container back in the Gator, then pat one of my favorite cows on the head.

She’s awfully soft and dips her head to let me get in a good scratch around her ears.

I look over at Millie, who’s busy giving some of the other cattle some love, her feet on the bottom rung of the fence so she can reach over.

“We were friends long before we ever dated.”

“Exactly,” she says, hopping down and climbing into the Gator, expecting me to ride shotgun, which I do after giving Millie the cow—my Millie hates that I named her that, but whatever—a quick pat on her head and hop into the Gator just in time for her to take off toward the house and main barn again.

“That’s the point, dumbass. All Lucy knows is Kensley and you. ”

I hold onto the handle above my head as Millie gives the Gator hell, tearing through the path up to the house. “What’s that supposed to mean? That’s all any of us know.”

“Exactly.”

“Stop saying exactly,” I say, all pissy.

She just huffs and rolls her eyes at me. “Lucy wants to see what else is out there. She’s going to college in the fall.”

“An hour away,” I cut in. “We don’t have to break up for her to go to college.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“It’s not fair. She doesn’t need space from you, and she and you have been friends longer than her and me.”

She parks the Gator up by the barn and hops out, her red braids swinging over her shoulders, falling almost to her belly button. She’s wearing her overalls and a white tank top today—one of her favorite farm outfits. “You sound like a whiny baby.”

I climb out of the Gator, a glare pinned on her because I know she’s right, and I don’t like being like this. But what the hell? I don’t get it.

“Just give her time.”

“And space,” I grit out, annoyed. My boots scuff against the already-scorched earth. It’s barely June, and we haven’t had rain in weeks. I stare at the dirt when I ask, “You think she’s seeing someone?”

“What I think is she has big dreams. Always has. She always wanted out of Kensley.” My head snaps up to meet Millie’s eyes, ready to argue, but her expression says not to. “You didn’t want to hear it. She’s talked about it for a long time.”

“That’s . . . ” I stumble over my words, trying to think back over every conversation I’ve ever had with Lucy. I could have sworn we wanted the same things. I mean, I know she wanted to go to college, and I definitely don’t want that, but I always thought she wanted to come back here afterward.

Settle down. Start our family.

Millie’s small hand lands on my shoulder, and there’s that kicked puppy look she reserves just for me. “Maybe she does want to date in college. You can’t blame her. You were her first and only.”

“Is that so fucking bad?” I ask irritably. “She was mine too.” I keep my voice down low, like it’s a secret, though in a town like Kensley, I can pretty much guarantee it’s not.

“No, it’s not bad.” She removes her hand, her eyes sympathetic. “It’s just, maybe she wants to date a different type of guy.”

“Gee thanks, Mills. This conversation has been great.”

Her big eyes roll at me, and she shakes her head, exasperated. “I didn’t say better. I said different. Something different from what she knows. From what she can find around here.”

“So some big-city douchebag,” I grumble.

Her mouth parts to open, but she’s distracted, and so am I by a small blue car creeping up the driveway—a car I’ve never seen here before. I instinctively tuck Millie behind me.

I hear her huff as she shoves my arm and stands right by my side while the car parks. “Who the hell is that?” I ask.

Millie shrugs. “No idea. Don’t think they belong here though.”

She couldn’t be more right about that. Talk about big-city douchebags. The occupant of the car climbs out reluctantly, his eyes roaming over the large white country house in front of him with disdain like I’ve never seen before.

What the hell is his problem?

He must be lost.

He definitely isn’t from around here. The guy is wearing tight skinny jeans with a couple of rips in them—but for sure not from hard work.

No. These are the types of jeans people spend hundreds of dollars on to look like they tore them.

His shirt is a button-down like he’s going to church or something, but the sleeves are rolled up to the elbows.

Like maybe that’s going to help him stay cool.

It’s almost a hundred degrees, and it’s not even noon.

His shoes are fucking ridiculous. Don’t even get me started on them. White sneakers, but they don’t have a hint of dirt on them, and again, they look like they cost more than my car. For no reason at all. They’re tennis shoes, but I can see a designer label on them.

“You lost?” Either he didn’t see us or didn’t think he needed to acknowledge us because his head snaps in our direction with his bright red lips in a disgusted snarl at the sound of my voice.

“I’m looking for Kelly Wright.” I don’t trust this guy. I can’t explain it, but everything about him has me on high alert.

He’s clearly not from around here. His dark hair is shaggy, almost to his shoulders and wavy—it looks like he just doesn’t give a fuck.

But his face is too pretty and his clothes too nice for that to actually be true.

He has high cheekbones that almost seem feminine, but his face is sharp, the lines of his face and jaw cut so severely that it gives him a masculine look at the same time.

His blue eyes are cobalt, but they seem familiar.

That’s when I turn to look at Millie, and it clicks into place just as Kelly arrives at the front door, pushing it open to walk out onto the porch. “I see you made it.”

“Who is he, Mom?” Millie asks. Clearly, I’m not the only one with their hackles raised.

Kelly Wright is a beautiful woman—one who is pushing sixty, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at her.

Her skin is a little worn from the sun, and she has some laugh lines by her eyes, but she’s still pretty damn stunning.

Her hair is more gray than red like her daughter’s now, but she wears it in a thick braid she tosses behind her shoulder as she starts to walk down the stairs of her porch.

Her blue eyes—blue like Millie’s and like this stranger’s—are trained on him.

“This is Emerson. He’s your cousin, Millie. He’s come to help us out for the summer.”

Millie and I both freeze, just staring at the guy who closes his car door but doesn’t walk any closer to his aunt. She’s, of course, not bothered at all. Just walks right up to him and hugs him tight.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it. Your mother didn’t say.”

“Sounds like her,” he says curtly.

Kelly releases him but stands close with a warm smile on her face. “Well, I’m glad you came.”

“We don’t need help,” Millie says, folding her arms. Good. I’m glad she’s on my side on this.

“Yes, we do,” Kelly says in a no-nonsense tone Millie for sure got from her. And Kelly has perfected it. “Your brothers have all moved on to their own farms. I need some more hands around here, and my sister and I came up with the perfect solution for the summer.”

“He’s a city boy,” I say, even though I didn’t actually mean to say it out loud. And when Kelly and Emerson’s eyes snap to me, I stand tall and own what I said because I’m not wrong.

“That’s why I’ll need you to show him the ropes, Jasper,” Kelly says, her smile happy but her eyes telling me not to push my luck.

“Your name’s Jasper?” the guy’s deep voice rasps, a sneer on his lips as if he’s judging me.

“Yeah, it is, Emerson,” I say with a snarl of my own.

“Jesus fuck, I really am in the boonies now,” he says like he can’t believe it. Like he didn’t choose to come here, apparently.

“Kelly, are you sure about this?” I have to ask her. If anything, this guy is going to make our jobs twice as hard.

“Absolutely,” she says, her arm going around Emerson’s shoulders.

Kelly is tall for a woman, and we aren’t sure why Millie is so small.

I think it’s because she’s the runt of the litter—the fifth and last kid of John and Kelly Wright.

She doesn’t love hearing that though. “Come on, Emerson. I’ll show you to your room. ”

“Wait, he’s staying with us?” Millie squeaks. “He’s a stranger.”

“He’s family, Amelia. You will treat him as such.” That’s all Kelly says—like it’s gospel—before she leads Emerson up the stairs and into the house.

Millie and I stand there, dumbfounded. “Did you even know you had a cousin?”

“Yeah, but I’ve never met him. My mom and his don’t talk. She went the city and money route, marrying some finance guy in Kansas City. Hasn’t been back since.”

My heart goes cold, thinking about that—reminding me of Lucy. I can’t believe I misjudged her so much.

And now, on top of that, I have to deal with some city boy who I give a week before he’s crying and running far, far away from here.

Maybe I can help speed up the process.