Page 21 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

Fifteen minutes later I’m back on my property by the creek where I feel like I can finally breathe again.?

I drop the soda and snacks onto one of the chairs I built with my own hands, arranged neatly around the firepit I spent weeks perfecting.

It gleams under the fading sunlight—the closest thing I have to a kitchen right now.

The RV’s cramped excuse for one barely keeps a few drinks cold and leftovers edible.

Without hesitation, I head straight for the water.

With all the rain we’ve had lately, the creek looks more like a river, the current stronger than usual.

I wade in up to my knees, letting the icy chill seep into my skin, hoping it’ll cool the restless churn in my mind.

Cupping a handful of water, I splash it over my face and shaved head, rubbing hard, as if I can scrub away the thoughts about Jenni.

I know I shouldn’t get involved. Hell, I’ve only met her once now, but her words have been lodged in my mind ever since, gnawing at me like a splinter I can’t pull out.

Something’s not right with her foster family—I can feel it.

The thought keeps spiraling, dragging me deeper, until the crunch of gravel under tires cuts through my haze like a lifeline.

I glance up just in time to see Molly step cautiously out of her car.

She gives me a small wave, her movements measured, almost hesitant.

“Hey, Colt,” she calls out softly as I emerge from the water.

I nod and drink her in. Every time my thoughts threaten to spiral out of control, she appears, like clockwork, grounding me back to the moment, calming my racing thoughts. Her presence pulls me back to the surface, clearing the storm in my mind and giving me an unnatural sense of peace.

For a moment, I just stare, my thoughts scattering in her wake all over the grass. She’s standing right here, and yet, I feel like I’m the one frozen, caught in the quiet power of her presence and the beauty that surrounds her.

“You busy?” she asks.

“Nah, just got home from the store. Took a quick dip to cool off.”

She kicks at the gravel nervously with a nod.

“I came by because I wanted to thank you… about the other night, but I’ve been working back to back twelve hour shifts at the station, trying to manage the whole parole officer gig and patrol and haven’t had the time to get over here and do it.

Chief said he’d only have me working parole cases now, but it turns out that was a lie. I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner.”

“It’s no problem.”

She steps towards me, the simple pair of Levi’s jean shorts she’s wearing revealing her tan, bare legs that seem to go on for miles. Her blue eyes are much clearer than they were the last time I saw her and her skin seems to have browned up a bit as we move into the late spring.

“That was super embarrassing. I never drink like that anymore. I don’t know what happened,” she laughs nervously and shakes her head. “Okay, no, that’s a lie, I know why that happened. I hadn’t eaten anything that whole day and then drank way too much on an empty stomach.”

“You were pretty messed up.”

She nods and I can tell she’s been beating herself up about it, probably overthinking everything she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her.

She gives me a half grimace and a half smile. “Well, if I said anything weird, I apologize. Are your truck seats ruined from my vomit?”

“Nah, cleaned them when I got home.”

She puffs out a breath of air. “Are we good then?”

I choke out a laugh. “Nothing’s going to ever change that.”

She shoots me another smile and tucks her hands into her back pockets. Her eyes cart around my property before she snags on the beams that I’ve started to stand up for what will be the frame of my home. “Wow it’s really coming together.”

“Trying to, though I don’t mind sleeping in the RV. Cash and I worked on it yesterday until about three in the morning.”

She nods and gestures towards the hot Cheetos and soda. “Are you having lunch?”

“Figured I’d try something different. Heard this combination was lethal.

” The truth is that I felt like the burn of the Cheetos mixed with the sting of the soda might help me feel something.

I don’t know, pain or some shit. Ever since our night together at Krissy’s bar, I’ve been chasing a high I haven’t caught yet.

That night, I felt like I was on the brink of some powerful emotions but maybe it isn’t something I can catch outside of Molly.

Maybe she’s the high I’ve been searching for.

She snorts and steps over to the fire pit seating area, pulls open the bag and tosses a few in her mouth, then cracks the seal on the soda and pours it directly in after.

My brows raise. “You got a death wish I don’t know about?”

She laughs, closes her mouth and tries to chew but ends up choking instead. Tears roll down her pretty face as she fans her tongue dramatically. She looks beautiful. I wonder if she’d weep like that while trying to take my cock down her throat.

When she finally gets her chewing under control, she ends up spitting half of the orange-red mess all over the lawn.

“Wow,” she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s a disgusting combination.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t make it look like a good time.”

She snorts. “So how are things going? Did you work at the distillery today?”

“No. I have the weekend off. My weekend crew typically handles things and calls me if there are questions or any emergencies. Though these days I don’t do much but work on the house, so I usually end up down there anyhow.”

She nods and smiles. “Now, if you had a hobby, you could be practicing that instead.”

“Is my parole officer here right now?”

She grins, “No. Sorry, habit.”

“Hm.” I grab the open bag of Cheetos and drop into the seat beside her, kicking my work boots up on the edge of the firepit. I pop a few into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully before glancing her way.

“You coming with me to volunteer again next Wednesday? Maybe this time, we skip happy hour after.”

“Yes, I told Lydia I’ll try to make it on time next week.”

I think for a moment, rubbing my jaw before popping two of the Cheetos into my mouth. “You know, maybe you should be Jenni’s big going forward.”

She raises a brow before snatching the bag from me and pouring a few into her lap. “Why’s that?”

“Not sure it’s a good idea for me to be paired up with her.”

“That elicits another dramatic eyebrow raise. “Did something happen last week?”

“No, but I think I might have a problem.”

She blinks again, her brows dropping, “What do you mean?”

I hesitate, letting my gaze drift to the creek. It’s swollen from the spring rains, rushing past the edge of our property, its path winding behind the farmstead like a loyal companion right up against the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The creek has always been a lifeline, a guide. Even as a kid, running wild out here with Regan, Mav and Molly, I knew that if we ever got lost, I could follow its flow and find my way back to this land.

This place.

This home.

I glance around, taking in the wildflowers scattered across the fields and the mountain peaks standing watch in the distance.

It’s the most beautiful spot on the property, the kind of place that feels like an oasis, even when everything else is uncertain.

I’ve always known I’d end up living here, no matter how far I wandered.

I still don’t understand why Troy insisted on building so close to the main house when we have all this space and these views.

“I think something’s going on with the son in Jenni’s foster family,” I finally say, breaking the silence. “She told me that the family wants to adopt her, but she doesn’t want that. She said the son makes her uncomfortable.”

I steal a glance at Molly. Her lips part slightly, her expression shifting as her mind races. I can practically see the gears turning, the weight of my words hitting her.

“Colt…” she starts, her voice low but steady. “What are you suggesting?”

I exhale sharply, running a hand over my buzzed head.

“I don’t think she should be adopted by that family—not if something’s going on with the brother.

Hell, she probably shouldn’t even be staying there right now.

He’s four years older than her, and when I ran into them at the grocery store today…

” My jaw tightens at the memory. “The way he was looking at her—it wasn’t right.

It gave me a bad feeling. And if she’s saying that she’s uncomfortable, then someone needs to step in before it’s too late. ”

Molly’s expression hardens, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processes what I’ve said. For a moment, neither of us speaks as I watch her try to piece together the mystery behind why I’m suddenly invested in this little girl not getting adopted by this family, hardly one month out of prison.

She shakes her head. “Fuck,” she whispers, and I sit back in my chair, watching her.

“Colt, you really don’t know what’s going on.

It sounds like you’re making assumptions based on a single interaction.

You could be reading too much into things.

She didn’t say anything happened, just that she’s uncomfortable.

She may have just been talking to fill the silence with you. Little girls sometimes just ramble.”

I shake my head in disappointment and chuckle. “Were you a little girl who just said stuff sometimes?”

She opens and closes her mouth in shock, likely stunned by my blow but I knew it’d get a reaction out of her, and I’m shocked she’s reacting this way.

Molly knows how it feels to be doubted by the grown-ups in her life when she’s trying to bring attention to a serious problem in her home.

Molly, of all people should know that little girls don’t usually say something to serious unless there’s some truth behind it.

“Look... I know what I saw,” I state firmly.

“Colt…as your parole officer, I have to caution you about getting involved here.”

“I’m not talking about getting involved, I’m talking about some sort of solution to stop them from adopting her. To get her out from under their care.”

“You can’t get in the middle of this. You’re not in a position to make that call.”

I sit forward in the chair, leveling her with a cool glare. “Respectfully, I don’t care what the parole officer in you thinks about what I should or shouldn’t do. What does my friend Molly think?”

She rolls her lips under her teeth as she thinks, and then shakes her head. “I don’t know. But you can’t afford to get in anymore trouble.”

I exhale sharply, leaning back, frustration curling through me.

It stings—knowing she doesn’t believe I can do the right thing, that she thinks I’d risk my freedom so easily.

And maybe she’s not entirely wrong. When I see something that isn’t right, the thought of consequences takes a backseat to fixing it.

But this… this is different. For the first time in a long while, I feel something other than apathy—something real.

Unless you count the way Molly felt in my arms at the bar, the rapid thrum of her heartbeat against my thumb.

But even that feels like a distant memory now, drowned out by the weight of her doubt.

And Jenni? She’s not some fragile kid. She’s on the edge of becoming a teenager and has seen more than most people twice her age. I trust her to know if something isn’t right.

I take a deep breath and decide to try a different angle.

“That little girl, she has no one. Not a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle or cousin alive to look out for her. Her mom died six months ago, and she’s been bounced around foster homes until she landed with the Brandons.

And now, the Brandons want to adopt her.

What a sweet family you say?” I cock my head to the side, assessing her reaction.

She purses her lips, waiting for the punch line but I’m a patient guy, I want her to ask me nicely to continue. To beg me.

“But they aren’t nice, are they?”

I shake my head no. “No, I don’t reckon that they are based on the survey I got of them today gripping her and hauling her through the grocery store like she was a nuisance, and I want to do something about that.”

She blows out another mouthful of air before brushing her hands through her long, silky hair. “What are you going to do, propose you foster her instead?”

“Nah. I just need that family not to adopt her.”

“I don’t know Colt…the systems are pretty pro-adoption, especially with the family that she’s currently living with.”

“I’ll figure something out then.”

She bites her lip, hesitating before shaking her head.

“Okay, don’t hate me for asking Colt, but…

is there a chance you’re throwing yourself into this because you’re trying to make up for what happened before?

Like, maybe this is your way of fixing something—righting a wrong you see—because you couldn’t save that woman the night you got locked up?

Is this about feeling something again, like you said you wanted to? ”

My chair scrapes against the dirt as I push back, anger flaring hot in my chest. Of all people, Molly—my friend—should know this isn’t about her. The woman I helped that night—the one who turned on me—has nothing to do with this. This is about right and wrong. Simple as that.

And yeah, maybe for the first time in a long time, I actually feel something thinking about this, but this isn’t about me. This is about Jenni.

“Seriously, Molly? The fuck?”

She puts her hands up in surrender, her blue eyes widening. “I’m sorry, Colt. I don’t know, it just seems like bad timing to get involved.”

I rub my head with my hands and shake my head firmly. “You think people get to look the other way when they see something messed up because it’s bad timing for them to help? That’s what’s wrong with this world.”

She winces, but I don’t care, ready to continue to show her why helping Jenni matters.