Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“Well, isn’t this cozy.” I try to keep my voice light as I stroll in.
Molly rolls her eyes immediately, her guard snapping back into place. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“Me?” I feign innocence, grabbing a stray piece of hay and twirling it between my fingers. “Nah. I was just looking for you two. Thought you might’ve run off with the chickens.”
Mom gives me one of her disapproving looks. “Hudson, don’t tease.”
“I’m not teasing,” I protest, flashing a grin. “I’m just saying, I didn’t expect to find you in here getting life lessons with the hens.”
Molly shoots me a look, her lips twitching like she’s fighting back a smile. “I’m sure you were just worried I’d make a better farmer than you.”
“Highly unlikely,” I retort. “But you keep telling yourself that, Hex.”
Mom gives us both a look that screams behave, but there’s a softness in her expression.
“I’ll take this inside,” Mom says, holding up the basket. “Dinner is in an hour, so don’t stay out here too long.”
“Got it, Mom.”
As soon as she leaves, the barn feels quieter, the air humming with something unspoken. Molly stands and dusts off her pants, avoiding my gaze.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say finally, my voice low.
She glances up at me, her expression unreadable. “Do what?”
I step closer, watching her carefully. “Whatever that was. With my mom. You didn’t have to say all that.”
Molly shrugs. “I wasn’t saying it for you.”
“Maybe not,” I admit, tilting my head. “But you meant it, didn’t you?”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.
Because I realize that Molly Sinclair—my little Hex, the woman who has spent years driving me insane—might just be the best damn thing to ever happen to me.
84
Hudson
The sun isn’t even up yet, but the farm is alive.
I head toward the barn, the morning air biting at my skin.
Dad’s already there, of course, waiting like he’s been up for hours.
Most likely, he has.
He always beats me to it, no matter how early I get out of bed.
The man is a legend.
Too bad the farm hasn’t been profitable enough for him to retire yet or that he won’t let me help, because when I see him here, at this insanely early hour, I want to beg him to take my money.
His hands are currently wrapped around a chipped coffee mug, steam curling into the crisp air.
“Look who finally decided to join the party,” he says, his voice carrying that familiar mix of humor and pride.
“First off. It’s too early to make jokes.” I smirk, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Also, you could’ve—you know . . . waited for me.”
“Not my style,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ready to get to it?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I roll up my sleeves.
Today is going to suck.
But I wouldn’t miss this.
It’s worth it to spend time with Dad.
Working with Dad was my dream a long time ago. If it weren’t for hockey, I’d probably be doing it.
I’d be happy doing it too.
Because out there, it’s just Dad and me.
Dad climbs into the cab of the combine.
Once he’s seated, he settles into the driver’s seat.
I take my place beside the auger cart, ready to guide the process.
“Remember the first time I let you help with the harvest?” Dad asks over the noise.
I shake my head in jest. Of course, I do. “Yeah, and you yelled at me for almost running over your boots.”
“You were so scrawny back then,” he says with a chuckle. “Could barely lift a bag of beans without tipping over.”
“Hey, I’ve bulked up.” I flex.
He laughs, the sound warm and familiar.
It reminds me of why I love this place.
Even if it interferes with the beginning of the hockey season.
The morning flies by as we work.
Sweat drips down my back, and my hands ache.
I don’t mind, though.
“All right, switch.”
I shake my head, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “I’ve got it. Take a break.”
“Hudson,” he says, giving me a look. “I can handle it.”
“And I can handle it better,” I shoot back. “Go sit down. Drink some water. I’ll finish this pass.”
He hesitates, but eventually, he nods. “Fine.”
“Thanks, old man.” I climb into the cab.
“Who are you calling old man?”
I smile while pointing at him before setting back to work.
Everything is running smoothly until it isn’t.
The machine jerks suddenly.
A loud, sickening screech fills the air.
I slam the brakes.
“What the fuck?” I climb down to see what the hell is going on.
The auger is jammed.
I crouch down, trying to get a better look.
“Hudson.” Dad jogs over. “What’s going on?”
“Auger’s jammed.” I point at the mess. “I’ll clear it out.”
“Wait.” He frowns. “We should call someone. That’s not safe.”
“I’m not calling anyone,” I say firmly. “It’ll take too long. I’ve got it.”
“Hudson.” His voice is low and serious. “You’re not supposed to be doing this kind of work. Your contract—”