Page 31 of Slow Burn

But the recent sting of rejection has made it hard to stay out of my own head. It’s been tough not to wonder if I’m the problem. When you get rejection after rejection, you can’t help but acknowledge the fact that you’re the common denominator. You can’t help but wonder, was I too loud, was I too intimidating, was I too, was I too, was I too.

And in the case of my job, I know it was the truth. The voice of my boss as I sat in the board room and heard him lay out all the reasons I was being let go was like listening to someone lay out why everyone in my entire life has left.

You let your emotions get the best of you, Lyla. You’re a great consultant, you’ve got an eagle eye for spotting the shortcomings, but you have to be able to see your own too. You get too invested, you step on people’s toes, bulldoze them with your strong opinions.

It was like he held a mirror up to me and circled all the parts of me I already knew were wrong.

Since then, I don’t exactly want to be alone. I don’t want to hear the critical voice in my head and know that it was right all along.

“It’s still early.” I gesture outside, through the kitchen window framed by floral curtains, at the soft glow of the sun only just hidden behind the mountains. “Stay for some dessert.”

Beck’s face does something funny, as his features soften and he says a soft and tentative “Okay.”

I divide up the sliced peaches into two bowls, topping them with a generous amount of coconut whipped cream, my heart strings tugging at the thoughtfulness that Beck put into this dessert. The fact that he remembered peaches are my favourite, and went out of his way to find vegan whipped cream.

I glance over and study him through the window, sitting on the porch swing, his back not revealing any answers about what prompted the gesture. Then, I head out to meet him, grabbing a blanket on my way to shield me from the cool evening air.

I hand him his bowl and sit next to him. The swing sways slightly, and I let my weight settle into the cushions.

“Hey, thanks for helping my dad out earlier and for getting him to his appointment,” Beck says around a mouthful of juicy peaches. “I normally do it, or else Skye or Nash will help out. But it’s gotten harder since his diagnosis. He struggles to keep track of all his appointments.”

“It was my pleasure, really. I get that I don’t know your dad like you do, but I think deep down he’s a good man, and I know he wants the best for you,” I say.

Wade had opened up to me earlier on the drive into town about how he feels like he failed Beck, and the rest of his siblings. He didn’t divulge too much about the circumstances with Beck’s mom, and I was too young to understand at the time, but it doesn’t sound like the split was amicable. I got the feeling that the kids got stuck in the middle.

Wade explained that he did his best for them with what he had, but between the demands of the ranch and handling three kids on his own, he dropped a lot of balls. I couldn’t help but think that Wade and Beck have more in common than they realize.

He said me showing up in Sage Valley felt like a sign that everything would be ok. I really hope that’s true, for myself included.

“I know,” Beck answers. “It’s just a lot to juggle. Skye and Nash help but… I don’t want them to be burdened with this. I’ve always looked after them.”

“It was a lot for a teenager to handle,” I point out.

Beck shrugs. “I guess as the oldest, it’s always been an expectation of me. Like it was an expectation that I would take over the ranch one day. It’s not that I don’t want to, there’s nothing else I’d choose to do, but…”

“The expectation adds unwanted pressure,” I say, knowing all too well how suffocating it can be when you’re trying to fit yourself into someone else’s box.

“Exactly. I saw how it impacted my dad, too. He took it over from his dad, who took it over from his dad. Generations of Hollis men that always did what was asked of them. Then when Mom left, it was like he didn’t know how to do it all. Suddenly there was too much demanding his time and attention, and we always took the backseat. But it’s all that really kept him going, too. It was his purpose.”

“Has the ranch always struggled like this?” I ask.

“Every ranch struggles to a certain degree,” Beck says. “But there were good years, too. My dad had the benefit of perspective, of seeing how things ebbed and flowed. Lately though, it’s only ebbing and I’m being sucked out with the tide.”

“What would your dad do, in the low years?”

“I’ve asked him, but his answer has pretty much always been the same. Ride it out.” Beck extends his hand in front of him, making it seem like this is an easy thing to do. “He’s had a few developers come knocking over the years, and he could have easily taken offers to sell, or at least divide up part of the land, but he never did. He always saw a way through. This land is what keeps us connected to our ancestors.”

“I won’t make you sell any property, Beck,” I assure him. I know how it feels to lose your home. I’ve been disconnected from my own family–from myself–since Austin sold the house we grew up in. “I promise. We’ll find a way of keeping the ranch intact.”

Beck’s mouth ticks into a reserved smile.

“What?”

“You said ‘we’,” he says. “I’ve never had a partner in all this. I’ve always been alone dealing with my dad, the ranch, all of it. It’s … it’s nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of for once.”

“It’s good to let people in to help you every once in a while,” I say. “No one can do everything alone.”

Beck’s face is outlined in silver from the moonlight, the set of his jaw stern but pensive. The sun has dropped all the way behind the mountains now, and stars begin to dot the sky, glittering overhead.