Chapter 20

Jackson

If there's one thing you can count on in Darling, Montana, it's for everybody to know your business. Regardless of whether or not you want them to.

"How's that new hire doing?" Louise asks, thinking she's being clever. "What's his name again? Arnold?"

"Ash," I answer, transferring a crate of milk out of the back of the refrigerated truck. I don't normally make the weekly milk deliveries, but our usual guy, Marshall, has a sick kid at home. Which means, today, I'm the runner.

I head into Louise's sandwich shop, the woman herself at my heel.

"Ash," she parrots. "That's right. Sweet guy."

"Mhm."

"Looker, too."

I set the crate down and stand up straight, giving her a look . "Really, Louise? Are we on this again?"

Louise Harper is one of my mother's oldest and closest friends. Her eldest son is my age and her youngest is Remi's. She's always had a vested interest in our lives. For the past couple decades, that's included my love life.

"I'm not sure what you're alluding to, Jackson," she says, feigning innocence. The woman is far from innocent. "I'm just stating facts. Are you telling me you don't agree that he's a handsome young man?"

Young is subjective, I suppose. But there's no way for me to answer that question that doesn't land me square inside Louise's trap.

With a sigh, I decide to give her a truth. Frankly, I'm shocked the news hasn't traveled to her already. My mom is showing restraint.

"I do think he's handsome, Louise. Which is why I'm dating the man."

That's not the only reason, of course, not even the first reason. But I can tell my little bomb landed just fine. I step around Louise, who looks too shocked to manage gossip. Of course, she rallies quickly.

"Jackson Darling!" she says, storming after me. We both slip past one of her employees, who's prepping for the shop to open. "Are you telling me you went and got a boyfriend, and you neglected to mention it to me?"

"Louise…"

"I changed your diapers when you were a baby, young man."

"Oh, God," I mutter, nodding to another employee who's getting out of their vehicle. "Morning," I call.

Louise clearly isn't done. "I think wiping your ass gives me some right to—"

"Wonder why my mom didn't think to mention it," I say loudly, closing the back of my truck.

Louise stops still, eyes narrowing. Bingo . "We'll finish this conversation later," she threatens, wagging a finger at me before stomping back toward the sandwich shop. "Don't think this means you're getting off scot-free!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," I murmur, knowing I've just incurred my mother's wrath by poking at her dearest friendship. Honestly, the woman deserves it now and again.

Having delivered the last of the milk, I climb into my truck and get on the road. It doesn't take long to arrive back at the ranch. Our workers are out and about, a steady drum of activity I find soothing most days. It means the cogs are functioning.

Although I can't see the man, I'm guessing Ash is inside the house getting lunch ready. After parking, I head that way. It's not that I have extra minutes to spare—not on a day where I'm filling in for an absent employee—but it doesn't seem to matter. My feet know where they want to go, and I let them take me there.

As expected, Ash is inside the kitchen. I can hear him singing as soon as I step through the door, and the simple force of it hits me in the strongest way. It feels cliché to say something was missing before Ash arrived, but having him here, filling this house with life and energy, makes me realize just how quiet my existence had become. Not in a literal sense. Lord knows my family is a mouthy bunch.

But my days had become mundane. The same quiet, steady routine that led me from dawn to dusk. I wasn't…depressed. I truly don't think so. But I'm not sure I was all that happy, either.

Then this damn ball of sunshine showed up, and fuck . The man upended my life. And now I'm smiling and happy, and I almost don't know what to do with it. But I know I don't want to let this feeling go. I want to keep it—keep him —for as long as I possibly can.

Ash's singing stutters a beat when I step into the kitchen. He gives me a swift smile before continuing to croon softly about searching for that heart of gold. I step close and sink my face into his neck, where he's warm and soft and smells like baking bread. I inhale him down, my arms curling around his stomach.

He chuckles, turning his face slightly. "Have I become your comfort item?" he teases. "Did you have one of those as a kid? A plushie or a blanket or anything?"

I hum, not wanting to admit to Ash that my comfort item , as he called it, was an old, ratty horse head that fell off a stick. I used to pretend to ride it when I was a kid, until the plush head fell off. Then it came with me everywhere until it was so worn my mom couldn't sew it back together anymore.

"Just wanted to say hello," I tell him, giving his neck a quick kiss before stepping back.

He turns enough to look at me, an amused lilt to his lips. "You said hello this morning."

I grunt. "Was a while ago."

He full-out grins, shaking his head. "So sweet. You busy this weekend?"

I lean on the small kitchen table as I think that over. Ash goes back to rolling dough out on the counter. Once done, he starts cutting rounds out of it. Biscuits, I'm guessing.

"Don't think so," I finally say. I have a few small tasks to take care of, but not much. "Why?"

"Save an evening for me?" he asks, arms flexing as he finishes cutting the rounds.

"Do I get to ask what for?" I question, trying my best not to focus too hard on those arms. Or any piece of Ash. Not when I have work to get back to.

He looks over his shoulder again, grinning. "You can ask if you want to. But that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you."

I grunt, and Ash laughs.

"Like you'll say no to me," he says, wiping some hair out of his eye with his wrist. A little flour transfers onto his cheek.

Clearing my throat, I mutter, "No, not sure I can. And that's the problem with you, sunshine."

Ash's smile tells me he doesn't think that's a problem at all. I have to look elsewhere, his eyes far too transparent. Pretty sure I could see right to the heart of him if I wanted to.

"Needa get back to work," I say, pushing away from the table.

"Thanks for saying hello," Ash says, loading the biscuits onto trays to go into the oven. "See you again in"—he checks the clock—"an hour?"

"Mhm," I grunt.

"Hey," Ash calls as I step through the doorway. "Where's my goodbye?"

With a grumble that has Ash smiling wide, I stomp back into the room. I slide my fingers into his hair, tug his head around, and plant a kiss on his lips. When I let go, I swipe that damn flour off his cheek.

"Better?" I ask.

That smile never leaves his face. "Yeah, darlin'. Much better."

Ash laughs as I roll my eyes and head out of the kitchen. My lips twitch into a smile, and try as I might, the sound of Ash's happiness won't leave my head all morning.

"Hey, Jackson? Where are the signs for the festival?"

I raise a brow Colton's way, pausing as I pull off Starlight's saddle. "I dunno. Where'd you put them last year?"

"How am I supposed to remember?" he says. "That was a year ago."

"Yet you expect me to know," I mumble.

"They're in the loft at the petting farm barn," Remi answers, passing with his arms full of empty feed bags. "Red tote."

"Thanks, bro," Colton says, heading off.

"You going with him again this year?" I ask Remi, putting my tack away.

He shoves the feed bags into a large trash bin. "Someone has to keep him organized."

Guilt flares at my brother's words, even though I know he didn't mean anything by them. It's just that I was the one who used to run the Darling Ranch booth at the fall festival with Colton. Up until Otto broke the news that he was leaving right there on the side of the street while I was eating an apple cider donut.

"Remi, I—"

"Oh, don't start," my brother says sternly. "That wasn't a criticism. I'm happy to do it."

"Are you sure? I can—"

"Stop," he says, hand striking his palm in an ASL mirror of the word. "You do enough around here. Colton and I have the festival handled. End of discussion."

My lips twitch. "You're starting to sound a lot like Mom, y'know."

He throws a horse brush at me, which I catch before it hits my chest. The ‘fuck off' he signs my way has me huffing a laugh.

"Just lemme know if you need anything," I tell him, fairly sure at this point I can enter the festival without feeling a potent mix of rage, sadness, and grief over the end of my previous relationship.

"We won't," Remi answers, his departure signaling the end of our conversation.

I'm not sure when my baby brother went and grew up.

When I get back to the main house, it's dinnertime. I didn't have time to shower and change beforehand, but that's fine. It's not often that I do.

My mom catches me as I'm entering the house via the mudroom door, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. " Jackson Darling ."

"Oh, here we go."

"Did I do something in your forty years of life to make you hate me?" she asks, her hands on her hips.

My brow goes up. Slowly. "I assume that's a rhetorical question?"

"Maybe my son ," she goes on, "the boy I raised with my own two hands, could tell me why I had to hear he has a boyfriend from my friend, Louise."

All right… That wasn't quite what I was expecting.

"You know Ash and I are a thing," I point out.

"A thing ," she says with a scoff. "No, I certainly did not know that. I presumed as much, just from looking at you. I certainly knew you were doing…the horizontal hokey-pokey. But not once did you speak the word boyfriend ."

I catch Ash's amused expression over my mom's shoulder, his head poking out of the dining room. Belatedly, I realize it's rather quiet inside the house, which tells me all I need to know. The simple truth that, now, everybody knows.

It's enough to distract me from the fact that my mom just uttered the words horizontal hokey-pokey . I suppress a shiver.

"Well," I say, refocusing on my mother, "now you're aware. So…good?"

Her tone is wry when she says, "‘Good,' he asks. No, we are not good . What are your intentions with Ashley Alcott?"

"Oh, Jesus," I mutter, scrubbing my face. "Really, Ma? Shouldn't you be asking him that about me ?"

"Nope. Because I know that boy has good intentions sprouting outta his ass."

"Out of his—"

" You're the one I'm worried about," she says. "Don't you go hurting that man, Jackson Darling."

I sputter. " Me ? Why would I?"

"'Cause you got hurt first. And we all know what hurt animals do in the face of repeated threat of injury."

Lash out .

"I won't," I tell her, getting frustrated. Ash had the good grace to return to the dining room, although I know it doesn't matter. He can hear just fine either way. Well, better set the record straight then. For both of them. "I have no damn intention of hurting that man. He's the purest thing to come into my life in who knows how goddamn long. And the fact that you think I'm even capable of it—"

My words come to an abrupt halt as I register what my mom just pulled. Because she would never truly accuse me of being careless with his feelings. And I didn't realize it until far too late.

"Are you happy with yourself?" I ask her.

She's smiling at me now. "Quite. You have a tendency to keep your thoughts balled up tight, Jackson dear. And I didn't want him missing the obvious. Or you," she adds gently.

"If I could," I tell her evenly, "I'd file for emancipation."

"You're far too old," she says, a happy lilt to her words as she heads for the dining room. "Now what's for dinner?"

Maybe I could move.

My dad sighs, and I jolt, not having heard him come in the front door. "You'll never win against that woman," he says, walking past. "I wouldn't suggest trying."

"You're an enabler," I call after him.

He waves a hand over his shoulder.

As I'm standing in the hallway, debating whether or not I even need to eat tonight, Ash reappears. He has two plates in his hand.

"What are you—"

"Come on," he whispers, heading for the door. "We're running."

I snort, my insides leaping at the sight of Ash's mischievous grin.

Fuck , am I in deep.

I haul ass, opening the door for Ash to pass through. Without looking back, we walk down the drive to my place. I grab two beers once we get there, and then we settle out back on the Adirondack chairs surrounding the fire pit, our bottles leaving pools of moisture on our armrests as we eat. Every once in a while, Ash's knee brushes my own.

"She's evil," he says some time later. "Brilliant and evil."

"Pretty much," I mutter, enjoying the roast beef sandwiches Ash made. "This horseradish from scratch?"

He gives me a quick grin. "Yep."

"'S'good."

He bumps my knee again. "Thanks, Jack."

We fall silent as we finish our meal, the evening sun keeping us company as it races toward the mountains. I take a sip of my beer, content to soak up the peaceful air.

"Did you mean that?" Ash asks, his voice quiet.

I look over at him with a soft grunt. "That I don't plan on hurting you? 'Course."

"No, not that," he says, setting his empty plate down and resituating to face me more fully. "I mean, that was good to hear—don't get me wrong. But no. The part about me being…pure."

Christ .

I fidget with the label on my beer bottle, feeling scrutinized and not sure I like it. Actually, scratch that. I'm sure I don't like it.

But this is Ash. And he's been nothing if not honest with me from the start.

Easing out a breath, I say, "Yes, I meant that. Ashley, you have this way about you that's good and bright. You remind me of that great big orb up there." I point the end of my beer bottle toward the sun for emphasis. "You make everything lighter. And maybe pure ain't the right word 'cause Lord knows you're filthy when you wanna be…"

He gives me a coy smile, and I rein in everything that smile has me itching to do.

"But I don't think there's a single piece of you capable of purposeful destruction," I go on. "You're pure of heart, and that's something I can't help but admire."

And feel drawn to .

Ash doesn't speak for the longest time. He looks out over the land, a pensive expression on his face. "I hurt Nicholas."

My chest constricts briefly. "Not intentionally. I don't think you would've walked out the way you did if he had once tried to stop you. He hurt, true. But I don't think it was your fault."

He tips his head into a nod, lips quirking slightly. "Your mom said you're not good at sharing your thoughts."

I huff. "No. Usually, I'm not."

"You have been with me, though."

I let out a sigh. "'Cause I don't know how to deny you."

Ash chuckles, the sound almost dark. "That's a lot of power to give a person, Jack."

"I'm not worried."

"Because of my pure heart?" he asks, sounding amused.

I grunt.

Ash chuckles again, leaning back in his chair and setting his ankle over my knee. I grab the skin beneath his pant leg, my thumb stroking over his ankle bone.

"You know," Ash says slowly. "It's polite to offer someone respite when they're so very far from home."

"Far?" I ask, my pulse picking up.

"Uh-huh. You wouldn't want me walking all the way home in the dark, would you?"

I glance at the still-risen sun before looking over at the man with the wavy blonde hair and eyes I'm fairly certain were crafted from the sky itself. How this warm, bubbly presence is capable of inciting such wicked thoughts, I'm not sure I'll ever understand.

I let my fingers drift up under the hem of his pant leg. "Would you stay the night, Ash? Y'know, to protect that virtue of yours."

He huffs a cheeky laugh. "So nice of you to offer. But I'll let you in on a secret."

"Yeah? What's that?"

I swallow as Ash leans closer, his grin causing my gaze to lower to his lips. "I'm not that virtuous," he whispers before dropping his leg. Empty plate and bottle in hand, Ash heads toward my house.

And I wonder why it is I was so quick to replace the word "house" with "home" in my mind.