Page 2 of That One Night (The Heartbreak Brothers Next Generation #4)
Chapter
Two
“Hendrix Hartson, why aren’t you answering your phone?”
Hendrix looked up from the ground where he was repairing an irrigation line that had been leaking for a week, and tried to suppress a smile. His cousin Sabrina was pouting, her brows knitted the same way they used to when she didn’t get her way as a kid.
At twenty-six, his junior by three years, she could just about get away with it.
“I’m busy,” he pointed out, glancing at the water still trickling from the line. The sun was beating down, there was a farm full of animals that needed watering, and if he didn’t fix this pipe soon, there’d be hell to pay.
And also, he didn’t want to answer his calls.
Since he’d come home to Hartson’s Creek a couple of months ago, his phone had become a millstone. Constantly buzzing with texts from his brothers, missed calls from his mom, and naturally, daily Snapchats from Sabrina. Because his cousin was way too cool for a regular message.
“I’ve sent you, like, a dozen Snaps this week,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I even called you last night. And don’t tell me you were busy then. There’s nothing going on around here.”
She huffed and looked around at the expanse of farmland, golden wheat swaying alongside rows of sunlit corn.
“It’s so boring.” She shook her head.
“I’ll check my phone tonight,” he said, even though they both knew he wouldn’t.
“Liar.” She sighed like the weight of the world had landed on her shoulders. “I remember when you used to be fun.”
“When was that? Back in grade school?” he teased.
They’d always bonded over being the youngest in their loud, chaotic families.
Her with three older brothers, him with two.
At family parties they’d run wild, stuffing their faces with frosting, spiking lemonade with hot sauce.
They once tied helium balloons to their Great Aunt Gina’s dog to see if he’d float.
He didn’t. And Aunt Gina had not been amused.
Finally stemming the leak, Hendrix stood, wiping his face with the hem of his dusty t-shirt and feeling the ache in his back.
“What are you doing out here anyway?” he asked.
Sabrina had never cared for farm life. Not like he had. From the moment he was old enough to help muck out stalls, he’d loved the rhythm of it. The animals, the sweat, the sun that soaked into your bones and made you feel like you belonged.
As a kid, it had been the one place he didn’t feel like a screw-up.
And now that he was back, it was the only place people didn’t expect him to be anything other than quiet and useful.
Well, except for Sabrina.
“I came to rescue you from your self-imposed exile,” she said, flicking a glance at his dirt-streaked jeans. “There’s a party Saturday night at Mariah’s house. You remember parties, don’t you? People. Music. Fun. Not smelling like you lost a wrestling match with a horse.”
He smirked. “Didn’t Mariah go to New York to be an actress?”
“That was Victoria. Keep up.” She crossed her arms. “Are you coming or not?”
He opened his mouth, already searching for an excuse. The last thing he needed was to end up in a house full of twentysomethings drinking canned cocktails and live-streaming their bad decisions.
“It’ll be fun,” she coaxed. “Fireworks. Karaoke. Probably someone crying about their ex in the bathroom. It’s basically a tradition.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
“I can’t.” He shook his head, trying – and failing – to look remorseful. “I’ll be working on my place.”
The cottage his uncle had sold him needed everything repairing. Gutters, roofing, plumbing. Same with the neglected patch of farmland it sat on. Working his uncle’s land was a paycheck. But building something of his own?
That was redemption. His future. And it was more important than parties.
“Mariah specifically asked me to invite you,” Sabrina said, narrowing her eyes. “She’s single. You’re single. She makes a mean margarita. That’s practically a Hallmark movie.”
“Sabrina.” His voice was a warning.
“What? I’m just saying, she’ll be wearing a sundress and cowboy boots. Your kryptonite.”
“Fixing irrigation lines and sleeping through the night are my kryptonite,” he told her. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re so boring now. What did they do to you in California?”
He paused, just for a beat, then shoved the wrench back into the toolbox.
“Nothing happened,” he said gruffly. “Maybe I just grew up.”
Sabrina snorted. “Wow. So this is what thirty looks like. Dad jokes and an early bedtime.”
“I’m not thirty.”
“Close enough.” She smirked. “You’ve gone full Hartson. Might as well get cargo shorts and start grilling with unnecessary confidence.”
A reluctant laugh rumbled in his throat.
“Enjoy your irrigation pipe, old man,” she called as she turned to leave. “I’ll go drink tequila and make terrible decisions for both of us.”
He watched her boots kick up dust as she walked away, the swing of her hips saying annoyed, not angry. She’d cool off. She always did.
He’d message her later. Or maybe he’d finally open one of her Snaps.
Sabrina was his favorite cousin, after all. He loved her. But right now, he wasn’t trying to be fun or social or the life of any party.
He was just trying to be good.
By the time the sun dipped low over the hills and the last of his tools were packed away, Hendrix’s shirt clung to his back and his throat felt like sandpaper.
He took the long way home, cutting across the fields on his dirt bike. The scent of warm hay and earth clung to the air, carried by the breeze off the creek.
His Uncle Logan was out by the west fence, clipboard in one hand and wire cutters in the other.
Hendrix coasted to a stop and swung off the bike. “Leak’s all fixed. Checked the whole line. There are no more holes.”
His uncle nodded, satisfied. “That section’s been bleeding for days.”
“Not anymore. It’s good to go.”
Logan walked over, his strides easy, steady. He was tall like all the Hartson men, but carried a kind of calm Hendrix hadn’t yet figured out how to fake.
“You heading home?” his uncle asked, looking up at the fading sun.
“Yeah. Might start on the gutters before it gets dark.” Hendrix slung his gear bag over his shoulder. “Roof’s next.”
“You’re putting in the hours.”
“Trying to make it mine,” Hendrix said simply.
“You already have.” Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And Court said to tell you dinner’s on the stove if you want it. Meatloaf and cake.”
“She doesn’t quit.” Courtney was his aunt. Like all his family, she loved to feed him up, despite the fact he was six-foot two and all muscle.
“She’s a Hartson.” His uncle shrugged. “It’s how we love.”
“I’ll swing by and grab some cake tomorrow,” Hendrix promised.
Logan nodded, then added, “Your mom cornered me at the store this morning. Wanted to know if I’d seen any unfamiliar vehicles at your place.”
Hendrix groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t answer her.”
“I told her if you had a harem, you were doing a damn good job keeping it quiet.”
“She’s never gonna stop.” Hendrix rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d think with Pres and Marley giving her grandkids left and right, she’d have her hands full.”
“She’s a mom,” Logan said simply. “And moms worry.”
“I know. But I’m doing okay.” He paused. “Just… maybe not the way she wants me to be.”
Logan nodded. “That’s still okay. You don’t have to be anything but who you are.”
Hendrix started to reply, but Logan held up a hand.
“Oh, and Alice Reed called.”
Hendrix winced. The farmer’s widow living in the cottage opposite his seemed to enjoy making his life a misery.
“She says your ‘infernal machine’ is giving her hens palpitations.” Logan smirked. “Apparently her daughter’s coming home this week, and she doesn’t want her disturbed.”
That made Hendrix snort. “The woman times my coffee breaks like she’s got a drone on me.”
“She’s got eyes everywhere and zero tolerance for nonsense. And she’s your neighbor now,” Logan pointed out.
“I’ll drop off an apology card. Maybe some earplugs for her daughter.”
Logan laughed. “Just don’t rile her up. You’ve got enough going on.”
With a nod, Hendrix kicked the bike to life. The engine roared as he took off through the pasture, the wind hitting his face and the last light chasing his shadow over the golden fields.
His muscles ached. His hands were raw. But for the first time in months, his head felt a little clearer.
He wasn’t here to stir up trouble.
He just wanted a little peace.
And a chance to start over.