6. Aiden

Chapter Six

AIDEN

"What the hell, Gus!" Aiden yelled, blowing into the shop so forcefully that the bell above the door clattered like windchimes in a tornado. He slammed the door behind him, and only then did the men sitting around a pellet barrel glance up from their cards.

An old man with a dapper white mustache took his time spitting into an old coffee can at his feet before squinting at Aiden and asking, "What're you yappin' about, boy?"

"How come I never heard about you refusing to do business with Seth McCall?" Aiden demanded, stomping snow off his boots and tossing his jacket onto a peg by the door. "I thought you liked him."

"Then you ain't been paying attention," Gus said. He idly tossed a few chips into the pile on top of the barrel. Real chips—the potato kind. It looked like they had a tasty pot going. August French sat opposite Gus, gnarled fingers indecisively clutching a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips. "Those are only worth half my chips," Gus protested with a scowl. "I don't like how they stain my fingers."

"Cry me a river," August said with a creaky laugh.

The Hungry Pig had always been Sweetwater's unofficial social hub, but the tack and feed shop ran a close second. The same group of hard-working men had been fixtures here since Aiden was a boy. He remembered how tall and steely-eyed they had once seemed, leaning against the counter with cups of coffee, chatting about the weather or the price of beef. Back then, Gus was the one repairing equipment behind the counter. Now, he'd pulled up a stool with his fellow retirees, and they all cackled like a group of hens while West Owens quietly filled orders.

"What can I do for you, Aiden?" West asked, bracing his hands on the counter and offering a wide, cheerful smile. There was no formality between them; they'd grown up together, and West now lived at the Triple M with his husband, Whit, who was also Aiden's boss.

Aiden awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to get a quote for saddle repair. Antique, hand-tooled. Looked like the saddle tree was split right down the gullet."

He knew he was overstepping, but the sight of David McCall's broken saddle had disturbed him. Judging by the Double Jay's poor condition and what Seth had said about Tessa skipping winter term, it was easy to see they were struggling with finances. Seth might have grown older, and maybe a little colder, but he hadn't changed entirely. Aiden knew he would rather get a cheap saddle and ride it into the ground before spending money on himself over his sister and animals.

West knocked back his baseball cap and scratched his eyebrow thoughtfully. "Tough to say without seeing it. Depends on the quality. A break like that might not be much trouble for a dally roper, but it will be a real problem if you're tying off. Fixing it could get pricey."

Aiden had already suspected as much, but it still gave him a little pang when he tallied the expenses. "Do me a favor," he said, lowering his voice. "If Seth McCall comes in for a repair, put it on my tab and quote him a flat five hundred."

"Whassat?" Gus tossed his cards face-down and shoved his chair back to face him. He leaned forward, spreading his chest wide, an old habit from the days when he'd been a more formidable size. "You should've led with that, son. That boy has no business handling cattle. Folks around here don't want to encourage it."

"Aw, don't be like that," Aiden said, leaning an elbow on the counter and forcing his cheeriest smile. "Seth's a good guy. You know that."

"Not a question of good," Gus said stubbornly. "He messed up so big that it drove his daddy to an early grave. Folks around here ain't likely to forget something like that. He should've sold his daddy's ranch and come into town to work. Maybe talk would've died down. Instead, he's out on his own, probably making a muck of things."

"Who would've hired him?" Aiden protested. "C'mon, Gus. You were good friends with David. You watched Seth grow up. You know his habits; he's a damn good cowboy."

Gus simply took on an impassive expression, crossing his arms and leaning forward to spit a wad of tobacco into the can at his feet. Aiden wrinkled his nose. Plenty of his friends had rings faded into their ass pockets in the shape of a tobacco can, but privately, he thought it was a habit that should be retired once jowls started forming and gums started flapping in a stiff breeze.

August French, munching on a chip, added his two cents. "Ain't just about forgiveness, boy. It's about reliability. What guarantee is there that he ain't gonna pull some foolishness again? Hurt someone else?"

Aiden's fists clenched at his sides. "If you think you're being loyal to David McCall by treating his kid like trash, you're wrong. No wonder Seth has never gotten back on his feet. He never will if he's stuck driving all over God's green earth just to do business. If you really cared about his animals, you'd be giving him all the help you can."

Aiden took a deep breath to calm down. The shop was warm and cozy, filled with the mingling scent of leather, oil, and old coffee. He focused on its familiar comfort. This place had always been a haven for every man with dirt under his nails. Aiden just hadn't realized Seth wasn't part of that club anymore.

He felt a crawling sense of shame that he'd never realized how deep the prejudice against Seth went. Maybe he just hadn't been paying attention. It hurt more than it should the day Seth walked away from him. Aiden convinced himself it was for the best, moving on and up beyond any meager friendship Seth could offer. But they'd been more than friends, hadn't they? They'd been…something he couldn't put a name on.

Aiden had never been much; he wasn't smart, talented, or ambitious, but he was loyal as an old dog. People knew that about him and must have been watching what they said about Seth in his presence.

Gus looked thoughtful, mustache twitching as he considered Aiden's argument. "Maybe," he said reluctantly, "but it ain't up to me. It ain't a simple thing to earn back the trust of a whole town."

Aiden sensed the crack in his resolve and eagerly wedged himself into the provided space. "You could start by not throwing a fit when West works on his equipment. People around here look up to you."

"I don't pay Gus any attention," West said with a chuckle. "If he wanted a say in my customers, he shouldn't have signed the shop over to me."

Gus squinted one eye and jabbed a warning finger in West's direction. "Don't test me, son. I've got power you don't even know about."

"Like hell," August scoffed. "You can't even win a game of cards."

"I haven't been trying!" Gus turned his attention back to the game, and West slid Aiden a knowing wink. He'd worked for Gus since he was a boy; he knew how to handle the ornery old cuss.

Aiden turned to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup in a chipped ceramic mug. The liquid on the bottom of the pot was thick and lukewarm, and the glass desperately needed to be descaled, but he didn't care. Cowboys weren't picky when it came to caffeine. He sipped gratefully, letting the warmth seep into his cold hands. His eyes drifted over the community board above the beverage station. It was filled with the usual ads for animals, firewood, and farm equipment, but one bright blue flyer caught his attention. The page was filled with the graphic of a skier mid-jump, clinging one-handed to a tow rope attached to a racing horse.

"Skijoring, huh?" he asked, plucking the announcement off the corkboard. "They're really going through with it?"

"Damn fools," Gus muttered. "Skiing is tricky enough. They got no business hitching themselves to a racing horse on top of it."

"Reminds me of when we were kids," August cackled, "and you tried to impress Mable by strapping wheels on a sled and tying it to your brother's motorbike."

"That was different," Gus protested.

August's bushy eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "How?"

"I won Mable, didn't I?"

"Fifty years later!"

Aiden tuned them out, scanning the details on the flyer. The grand prize caught his attention. "Five thousand," he murmured, whistling through his teeth.

"You thinking of trying it out?" West asked.

"You gonna pull me?" Aiden cracked back.

"No way." West grinned and adjusted his ball cap. "The thing about bronc riding is that I only risk my own safety. I don't want to be responsible for you. You'll do something stupid, guaranteed."

"Thanks," Aiden said wryly.

West shrugged. "Everyone knows you're crazier than a bag of wet cats."

"I guess I'll need to find someone crazier than me," Aiden said, grinning hugely.

"Good luck." West laughed and returned his attention to his inventory list.

Once the focus was off him, Aiden's smile faded. He studied the flyer, turning it over in his head. That prize money could solve so many problems. Contrary to what his mother thought, he wasn't made of money. He'd been working his ass off at odd jobs since age fifteen, but they'd never paid much.

The slow, wobbly gears in his brain had just started turning when the bell above the door clattered again, gentler this time.

Seth entered on a gust of frost-scented wind, looking as rugged and worn as he had the day before. The broken saddle was slung over one shoulder. His hair was so long it brushed his snow-dusted shoulders and dark enough that it blended into the black felt of the Stetson tipped low over his eyes. His expression was wary when he scanned the room, and then his gaze locked onto Aiden.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall silent. All Aiden could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and the click in the back of his throat when he dry swallowed.

A young woman blew in behind him, rosy-cheeked and voluptuous in a way Aiden found disconcerting for the little girl who used to make funny faces at him through the farmhouse window.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in!" Aiden cried, grinning broadly and scooping Tessa into his arms. "I haven't seen you since you tripped up the stage at your high school graduation!"

"Put me down!" she shrieked as he swung her in a quick circle, grabbing hold of his neck while her feet flew out from under her.

Aiden reluctantly set her on her feet, but he couldn't resist tweaking her nose, delighted when she batted him away and angrily adjusted her hat.

"You're going to give people the wrong idea," she hissed, flushing when the Jensen brothers walked through the door behind them. Riley Jensen, a handsome, clean-shaven kid about Tessa's age, cast them a swift and disapproving look before trailing his older brother to the livestock medications.

"Aw, there ain't nothing wrong about our love, sweetheart," Aiden drawled loudly, slinging his arm over her shoulders and hauling her against his side.

She jabbed him in the ribs with a hard elbow and demanded, "What were you doing at my graduation?"

"The whole town was there," Aiden muttered, rubbing at the sore spot. "Besides, I wouldn't have missed my favorite girl's big day."

"I didn't see you."

"Yeah, well, you weren't meant to," he said, meeting her brother's eyes over the top of her head.

Seth watched with his usual quiet intensity, but Aiden had no idea what he was thinking. He was acutely aware of the new tension between them. They'd lost the friendly ease they once had, the sense that they knew each other inside and out.

West cleared his throat and nodded toward the saddle. "Long time, Seth. Got something for me?"

For some reason, Aiden couldn't breathe normally again until Seth broke eye contact. That was when he noticed the old men giving them the hairy eyeball from the corner of the room.

"Ain't seen you in a long time, boy," Gus barked.

"I've had my hands full," Seth replied casually, meeting his gaze head-on. Maybe he'd been driven into the mountains by grief, shame, or wounded pride, but he wasn't cowed, not by a long shot. He stood, tall and defiant, beneath the weight of their unspoken censure.

"How many head are you running up there?" Gus asked.

"Enough." Seth's reply was cool.

Disdain twisted the old man's expression. He'd always been ornery and opinionated, but he was fair-minded. Aiden had never seen him so eager to dislike someone—at least, someone who hadn't been born in the city. When he opened his mouth, Aiden knew something acidic was about to come spilling out.

Aiden coughed—loudly—then strolled over to the poker game, pulled up a chair, and stuffed a fistful of potato chips into his mouth.

"Hey!" both old men cried at once, attention successfully diverted.

"Ante up, boys," Aiden declared, stretching theatrically and cracking his neck. "I haven't had lunch."

While August dealt the cards, Aiden kept half an eye on everyone else's business. He noted how delighted Tessa looked when Riley sidled up beside her and began flirting. But mostly, he observed the stiffness in Seth's body language, as if he was braced for the worst, and the way he suddenly relaxed when West looked over the saddle and said, "It's not something I can just slap some rawhide on and call it good…but I guess I can fix it up for around five hundred."

The grimace on West's face told Aiden he would be forking out a lot more than that.

Seth didn't flinch, but Aiden knew how painful the cost must be. He remembered yesterday's worn fence, ramshackle barn, and broken feed truck. The Double Jay was falling apart. Business costs were skyrocketing. Every year, small farms were hamstrung by new regulations that only giant corporations could afford to comply with, and livestock prices were falling despite the cost of beef shooting through the roof at the grocery store. Everyone was struggling. Even the Triple M had felt the pinch, and they were easily five times the size of Seth's small operation.

As Seth continued discussing the repair strategy with West, Aiden's thoughts drifted back to the skijoring flyer he'd stuffed in his back pocket. The grand prize loomed large in his mind, a tantalizing solution to so many problems. He knew what he had to do…and who he wanted to do it with.

When the McCall siblings eventually left the shop, Aiden dropped his cards and scrambled after them.

"Wait up!" he cried, jogging after them on the icy sidewalk.

Seth slowed his ground-eating strides just enough for Aiden to catch up. His tone was clipped when he asked, "What?"

"You don't have to be such a grump, you know," Aiden grumbled. "I'm trying to be your friend."

A muscle ticked in Seth's cheek. "You already thanked me for saving you. Don't make it weird."

"That's my whole brand , man," Aiden said, lighting up with his most winning grin.

Seth rolled his eyes and turned to leave, and Aiden panicked, grabbing him by the arm to stop him. Seth's bicep flexed, testing his strength, and for a split second, it felt like they were a breath away from violence. Aiden instantly dropped him, lifting his hands and backing up a few steps before things went sideways.

"Come on, Seth," Tessa urged, looking unhappy. "You promised me lunch at The Pig, remember?"

"Let me treat you," Aiden suggested, jumping on the opportunity.

Seth gritted his teeth so hard that Aiden thought he heard them squeak. "No."

"Come on," Aiden wheedled, easy breezy. Just a clown who wouldn't take no for an answer. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Once, he would have grabbed the end of Seth's scarf and dragged him down the sidewalk like a dog on a leash, and Seth would have allowed it. He'd always treated Aiden's antics with tolerant amusement. Everything was different now. This distance between them wasn't natural, and Aiden was only just realizing how much he hated it. How much he'd always hated it.

Seth's eyes were like flint. "You want to talk? Fine. But not in public where everybody will be breaking their necks to gawk."

Aiden hesitated, then nodded, deciding to choose his battles carefully. "Your call," he said, elaborately casual. "Where?"

"You can come up to the ranch tomorrow," Seth said curtly. He was probably hoping the long drive would discourage Aiden. Then he wrapped a protective arm around his sister's shoulders and turned away, dismissing Aiden as if he weren't worth another thought.

Tessa glanced behind them apologetically, but Aiden only gave her a playful wink. His grin said no hard feelings, but as he watched them disappear in a gust of swirling snow, something vast and ugly began to crawl its way out of his heart.

His chest burned, and he knew it wasn't from the sludge he'd just drank. It felt like a spark of determination. Seth had dropped him like a hot rock once, and in his own hurt and wounded pride, Aiden had allowed it. But he didn't want to let the past define them anymore. It was time to carve out a new future, one step at a time.