Page 6 of Claimed By Ruin

I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

“After…well…after,” he cleared his throat and put his hand at the back of his neck, his expression tense, “you left, she stepped up and took the lead. It’s just…” The kid frowned, looking around the farm, which seemed so peaceful.

“Just what?”

“Folks sure don’t seem happy you’re back,” he said. The kid sounded both guilty and apologetic, which just reminded me that yet another person was bearing the weight of my fuckups.

I grunted. “You’re saying I’m not getting a welcome-home party?”

The kid smiled, but then shook his head again. “A party would be awesome, but…”

“What’s going on?” I stopped walking and stared at the kid’s face, recognizing the look, even though I’d never seen it from him.

“Uncle Levi⁠—”

“He died?” I said, bracing myself for confirmation of something I assumed was a foregone conclusion.

“No, but he’s not getting any better.” Miles dropped his head.

“Fuck,” I muttered and rubbed my hand over my face, the stubble on my cheeks pricking my palm.

He sighed. “Even still, I think people would be happier, but I guess it’s not possible with Uncle Levi still being sick and Bridget leaving.”

“Bridget’s gone?” I held his gaze.

He nodded. “Yeah, she left the same day you did. Ms. Newman told us all.”

I studied his face, searching for truth. Nothing in the kid’s face convinced me he believed what Asia said, but I decided not to press. He didn’t need to be in a tough spot, especially not because of me.

I clapped his shoulder. “Show me around, kid.”

Miles smiled, and then eagerly walked me around the rest of the farm. They’d built a root cellar and the walls were lined with jars of preserved food. They’d also set up rain barrels and finished building out a rudimentary water filtration system.

“I did the chicken coop myself,” Miles said, his chest swelling with pride. “Something got in the old one and killed two hens, so I reinforced the sides and added heavier wiring.”

I looked around the place again. It was exactly what I hoped it could become. A place for her to be safe. For them.

A place for my baby.

The thought landed like a kick to the chest. I looked at Miles, needing something to distract me. He looked serious, then frowned at me. “I’m sorry about your brother, Jack,” he said.

“What about him?” My voice was rougher than I intended.

He stammered. “It’s just that…you’re here, and if…”

“He’s not dead,” I said, wishing I had the conviction in my heart that was clear in my voice.

Miles smiled and gave a final nod of his head. “Good. Let me show you the rest of our work.”

I followed him, but kept glancing back at the house, wishing I could catch a glimpse of Asia through that fucking burlap. Either she was avoiding me, or based on how things had gone before, she wasn’t thinking about me at all. But a conversation needed to be had. I wouldn’t let her put it off.

By the time nightfall came and the farm started to settle, I went into the house to look for her. She wasn’t in her old room. I’d checked earlier and saw a flannel shirt of Lourdes’s, along with a book on animal husbandry on the night stand. I moved through the house, unable to shake the familiarity, the comfort. I’d built the ranch house in Nebraska myself and let Evan pick the paint. But even with the days I’d spent there after I left the farm, it might as well have been Mars. I still hadn’t figured out how to process that.

I stopped in front of the parlor door, even though it wasn’t really a parlor. It was just one of those spaces in big old houses that didn’t have a closet, so you couldn’t count it as a bedroom and was too damn small to be a living room. I threw the door open, spotted Asia sitting on the corner of the bed.

She wasn’t surprised to see me.

I stepped inside and closed the door, looking at the room which was barely furnished, though at least it had a full-sized bed. A half-burned candle threw shadows across the room. Her boots were neatly lined against one wall.