Jordan probably wasn’t even aware of what he’d revealed, but it was enough that I’d be having a follow-up conversation with Reid.
I clapped him on the back, trying to ignore how thin his frame felt beneath my hand. “Come on. Time to work.”
Jordan groaned, but he followed with a little more pep to his step than when he arrived. I’d take that as a win.
Chapter 11
Anna
A beamof warmth settled across my face, a gentle but insistent nudge to wake up. For years, I’d gotten up before the sun. It was just easier that way. Predictable. Quiet. Safe. I’d learned to enjoy getting ahead of the day before it unraveled. Beforehedid.
There were worse ways to start the day than an alarm going off before five in the morning. Before words became weapons and looks became sneers of disapproval. Often, I could dodge the storm if I kept myself invisible.
Old habits didn’t break easily. But slowly, day by day, being here had taught me to move at a different pace. No one hovered. No one barked orders. I still woke up early, but by choice now. I knew nothing would fall apart if I stayed in bed just a little longer. My energy levels were thanking me for it. So was my spirit.
I pulled the sheets over my head, wanting to hold on to the stillness for a few more minutes. It had been weeks since I’d started working at Silver Creek Farm, yet some days still felt like a dream. I’d take a long day working on this farm any day over my previous life, which looked like a life ofease from the outside. I still wasn’t sure what my long-term plans were, but at least now, thanks to Chase, I had time and space to figure it out.
Jack lay at my feet as usual, curled up on top of a quilt I’d found in the linen closet. The once colorful scraps of fabric were faded from years of use, but I loved the soft hominess it offered. A handmade woven rug covered the worn heart pine floors on one side of the bed, and gauzy white curtains explained why the sunlight always found its way in. The space was warm and welcoming. A little outdated, maybe, but familiar and comforting in a way that mattered more than any newer styles could.
It was nothing like the pristine bedroom I’d had in Nashville, with its cool gray tones and blackout curtains that shut out the world, much less the sun. Not a single personal item decorated the space. I’d once tried to place a colorful quilt on our bed, only for Mason to toss it to the floor and demand that the housekeeper put it in the trash.
People assumed life in that mansion was grand, full of elegance and ease. If only they knew how cold and lifeless it was behind the designer furniture and carefully staged artwork. It was all a show.
Jack sensed I was awake and crept closer, nuzzling my hand as if to reassure me all of that was in the past. His nose twitched as he sniffed me through the sheets, his snorting and huffing pulling a much-needed laugh from me. When a paw batted me on the cheek, I tossed the covers aside and hugged him around the neck.
“Guess we better get our day started, huh?”
I filled a cup of coffee, and while a bagel toasted, I pulled out my journal.
I found a new recipe which the guys loved.
I rearranged my bedroom to try something different
I discovered a new path for long walks
Finding things to write was coming easily, even if they were still simple. No surprise, really. The weight that once pressed down on me felt lighter here. It was something I intended to keep up with. It was still too easy to slip back into old ways of thinking, especially on days like yesterday, when I went to town to buy groceries for the bunkhouse meals. No one said anything directly, but I still felt their stares. I told myself it didn’t matter, but their quiet judgment of who they thought I was still had a way of creeping under my skin and stirring up old doubts.
I was determined not to let it win, however. Long walks with Jack in the afternoons after I cleaned up from the bunkhouse meal were my escape. The fresh air and open space settled something inside of me. It was peace. Freedom. A luxury I hadn’t appreciated until it was gone.
The sharppopof the toaster pulled me back to the present. I buttered my bagel and stirred my coffee, using the small routines to push away any lingering unease about yesterday’s memory. By the time I was dressed, I felt grounded and ready to start the day.
I always started my mornings at the main house, tackling a load of laundry, dusting and vacuuming, as well as making sure the flowers in the living room were still fresh. I felt a quiet sense of satisfaction in the routine and the sense of keeping things in order. It didn’t take a genius to see it for what it was—a way of reclaiming control after years of having none.
When I started here, I ordered pillows and other home decor for my cabin, hoping to make it feel more like home,likeme.But I’d gone a little overboard and ordered too much for the small space. Rather than returning them, I used them to add a few small touches to Chase’s home as a quiet thank you for all he’d done for me.
I reminded myself often that this wasn’t my home. Nevertheless, it felt like it needed a little pop of color here and there. Maybe it was silly, and I didn’t know if he’d even noticed. But I’d gone too long in a world that felt nothing but gray, and I was desperate for a change. For something bright and cheerful. For something that was mine to choose, even if the space itself would never be.
