His Reason to Stay

I was up before the sun, as usual. The barn doors groaned like tired bones when I pushed them open, and the cool morning air wrapped around me with a sharpness that reminded me summer wasn't quite ready to commit yet.

The scent of hay, feed, and familiar earth filled my lungs. It used to comfort me - now, it just reminded me how fragile everything had become. This farm, this land... it wasn't just home. It was my father's pride, my family's legacy. And it was slipping through our fingers, no matter how hard I worked to hold on.

I moved quickly, pulling feed, opening pens, checking on the hens. They squawked like they had problems of their own. Maybe they did, I'd cut back on feed portions last month to save money. Everything was about saving money lately. Saving the farm. Saving my father. Saving something.

The cows were restless. They always were when I was anxious, as if they could smell it on me. I whispered to them like I always did, calming words I barely believed myself, then headed out toward the back fence, where the wood was splitting again. Another repair we couldn't afford.

I wiped sweat from my brow with the back of my hand and glanced toward the farmhouse. Paint peeled like curling paper on the front porch. The roof sagged on one end. If the house had a soul, it was tired.

So was I.

I checked my phone. No new messages.

Still no word from Gracie.

My little sister had gone off for the weekend, something about needing a break from all the "doom and gloom." She didn't understand. Not really. Gracie always found someone to crash with, some party to distract her from the weight I was carrying alone. Lucky her.

As I turned back toward the house, a sound stopped me, the thump of a car door closing.

No one ever came this early. Not the feed store, not the vet, not even the mail truck. I squinted down the dirt road and saw it, a sleek black SUV creeping toward our gate like it was lost.

The vehicle stopped. The driver's side door opened, and out stepped a man.

He was tall, dressed in a button-down shirt that looked too clean for this place. City polished. His presence was wrong, like wearing perfume in a barn.

I didn't move at first. Just watched him as he stood by the gate, looking around like he was sightseeing. I didn't like that.

I took a step forward. "Can I help you?"

He turned, startled, then smiled, not the sheepish kind, either. The charming kind. Like he'd practiced it in front of a mirror and knew it worked.

"I sure hope so," he said. "I was told this was the Dawson farm. I'm not lost, am I?"

"You're here," I replied, arms crossing on instinct. "Who told you to come?"

"A woman at the diner," he said, like that was supposed to ease my suspicion. "Said I'd find a great view and maybe even better coffee if I came this way."

I didn't smile. "She lied about the coffee."

He laughed softly. "I figured. Thought I'd give it a shot anyway."

His confidence rubbed me the wrong way. People didn't just wander out to our place for no reason. Especially not men who looked like they'd never dug a post hole in their life.

"What are you here for?" I asked. "Eggs or land?"

That made him pause. "Neither. Just passing through. I'm staying in town for a while."

"Uh-huh," I said. That told me exactly nothing.

He took a step closer and held out his hand. "Liam. Liam Cole."

I hesitated, then shook it. His palm was warm and steady. Comfortable, almost. I didn't like that, either.

"Amara Dawson."

His eyes lingered on mine. "It's nice to meet you, Amara. You've got a beautiful place here."

"It looks better at sunset," I said, then added, "if you're into that kind of thing."

He chuckled again. "I am, actually. Thought I'd do some walking around, get inspired. I write a little, figured small-town life might stir something new."

Inspiration. Right.

"Sure," I said flatly, glancing toward the house. "Well, I've got chores to finish. You've got walking to do."

Liam didn't seem offended. Just smiled like he was used to brushing off awkward exits. "Maybe I'll see you around, then."

"Maybe."

I turned before he could say anything else and walked away, feeling his gaze trail after me like a question I hadn't asked.

Back inside, I peeled off my boots and made a beeline for the kitchen. The coffee was still warm, barely. I poured a cup and sat at the table, listening to the silence of the old house around me.

Dad hadn't come down yet. Probably still asleep, or pretending to be. He did that when he didn't want to talk about the bank notices piling up on the counter.

I stared out the window. The SUV was gone.

Liam Cole. Even his name sounded like a real estate agent or something worse. There was something too smooth about him. Too interested in a town that had nothing to offer but fading buildings and worn-down people.

I didn't trust men like that. I didn't trust anyone who showed up smiling in the middle of a storm.

Because no one just wandered into our life without a reason.

And no one stayed unless they wanted something.