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The phone fell away from my ear as I reached out to steady myself against the desk. The room was spinning, and someone was screaming. Maybe it was me.
Becca and Daisy Lynn were at my side, thank God. They were holding me up, keeping me from collapsing onto the floor.
“What is it, Janessa?” Becca asked.
“What’s going on?” Daisy Lynn’s voice was in my other ear.
“My parents,” I managed to say as the floor started slipping out from under my feet. “They’re dead.”
And then my whole world went dark.
Chapter 2
Janessa
“Janessa!” My uncle’s voice boomed up the stairs. “You’d better get down here if you want some breakfast, sweetie. We’ve gotta hit the road soon.”
I sighed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I turned away from my bedroom window. It was still way too early—the morning sun had just come over the mountains in the distance about a half-hour ago—but somehow I already had things to do and places to be.
There used to be a time when I could sleep in, and I never realized what a luxury it was until it hadn’t been possible anymore. Waking up at sunrise was just another one of the ways my life had changed in the year since my parents had passed away.
To be fair, it was one of the smaller changes I’d had to make, but sometimes it was the small things I missed the most.
Like waking up and going to class instead of downstairs to talk business.
Like having friends my own age—or even just being around anyone my age who didn’t actually work for my family.
Like the subtle difference in the way breakfast smelled now that my mom wasn’t around to cook it.
“Coming,” I called back before Uncle Justin got too impatient. “I just need to brush my hair.”
I didn’t need to brush my hair. I just needed a minute to breathe.
I started my day the same way every morning—wake up, take a quick shower, get dressed, and sit by my window. There was something about this time of day, something about looking out my window and watching the sun come up over the mountains that made me feel closer to my parents. The sharp ache of loss had softened over time, but every day was an uphill climb to function normally.
Maybe it was because this was the only time of day that I truly had to myself, the only time I could really get lost in my thoughts. Maybe it was because I could look out my window and see the thousands of acres that had been in my family for generations. There was something reassuring about knowing that view hadn’t changed for a hundred years.
My mother had looked out at those mountains just like her mother and grandmother had. Babies were born, men had gone off to war, and loved ones had died, but the land was still there. Our family had roots in this part of Montana as deep as the Ponderosa pine in the front yard, and we weren’t going anywhere.
It was a good reminder on a cool, dark morning when all I wanted to do was sleep in late and feel sorry for myself.
I couldn’t do that today, though—or any other day, really. In a year, I’d be twenty-one and this place—the land, the cattle, the house, and all the headaches that came with it—would be mine. I’d be the one whose job it would be to keep everything going for another generation.
So… no pressure or anything.
I took one last look out the window before walking out of my room and downstairs to the kitchen. I knew Uncle Justin wasn’t going to wait for me or my feelings much longer.
“About time, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, tossing me a grin over the top of his newspaper. He motioned toward the plate of food sitting next to him at the table. “It’s probably cold now, but I saved you some eggs and bacon. I thought we might have to send a prince with a glass slipper up there to get you out of bed today.”
“Pretty sure Sleeping Beauty didn’t have a glass slipper,” I said, sliding into the big wooden dining chair and picking up a piece of cold bacon. “Thanks for saving me some breakfast, though.”
Cold or not, I couldn’t really complain about my uncle’s cooking. It was miles better than anything I could have come up with. There were a lot of helpful skills that I’d picked up from my parents and my uncle over the years, but cooking?
I was pretty convinced that gene must have skipped a generation.
“Can’t have you wandering around with an empty stomach,” he said. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us—you are still going to the Beef Association meeting this afternoon in Great Falls with me, right?”
I nodded, thankful for the moment that my mouth was full so I couldn’t comment on how thrilling it sounded to drive fifty miles just to sit through a boring meeting with a bunch of old men who did a really good job at pretending I didn’t exist.
