You had not been back to your aunt’s ranch since the summer before college. It was supposed to be just a few years away—long enough to get your degree, maybe build a life in the city—but the longer you stayed, the harder it was to come home. Between classes, internships, and the steady hum of downtown life, you told yourself you had outgrown the dirt roads and the creak of the screen door. But the truth was simpler—you were scared to come back and find that nothing, or worse, everything, had changed.
Now, diploma in hand and no idea what to do next, you find yourself driving those same winding roads you once swore you would leave behind. The fields stretch endlessly, golden under the setting sun, and the air smells like honeysuckle and cut grass. By the time you pull into your aunt’s driveway, your chest feels lighter than it has in years.
Aunt Mae doesn’t meet you on the porch which you thought was weird. But when you find her out by the barn, sleeves rolled up, laughing as she shoos a stubborn sheep back through a gate, everything made sense.
“Well look who finally remembered where home is,” she calls when she spots you. Her smile is instant and bright, and before you can say a word, she’s pulling you into a hug that smells faintly of hay and laundry soap. “You made it just in time. We were about to lose a sheep to bad decisions.”
You laugh, the sound easing something tight in your chest. “Missed you too, Aunt Mae.”
“Come on,” she says, steering you toward the barn. “I want you to meet someone before dinner.”
Inside, the barn is warm and alive with quiet movement. A Border Collie darts past your legs. A sharp whistle breaks through the air making her skid to a stop before circling back to the new ranch hand.
“Ellie,” a man’s voice says calmly. “Easy.”
He straightens from where he’d been adjusting a saddle, dusting his hands on his jeans. He’s tall, solid in that effortless way, with sun-browned skin and dark hair pushed back by habit rather than intention. When his eyes lift to meet yours, they soften—curious, steady.
“This is my niece,” Aunt Mae says proudly. “Just finished college.”
He nods, offering a hand instead of a smile at first. “That’s no small thing. Congratulations.”
His handshake is warm and brief, but something about it lingers.
“I’m Jameson,” he adds. “Most folks call me Jay.”
“Nice to meet you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds steadier than you feel. He had this rugged look that was so handosmly effortless. Yeah he was dirty but he looked in it.
Aunt May grins, clearly pleased. “Jay keeps this place running when I can’t. And Ellie there’s smarter than half the ranch hands.”
Jay lets out a quiet laugh. “That’s generous. She mostly keeps me in line.”
Ellie presses her nose against your knee, tail wagging like you’ve already been accepted. Jay watches with mild amusement, then looks back up.
“You settling back in for a bit?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you reply. “Just till I know what I want to do."
Before he can respond, a voice echoes from outside the barn. Low yet happy.
“Well I’ll be damned—look who decided to show up!” A stocky man strides in, arms already open. You recognize him instantly and step into the hug without hesitation. It’s solid, familiar, grounding. He's an older guy, watched you grow up on the ranch. Showed you everything you know.
“It's been way too long,” Tucker agrees, clapping your shoulder.
“Hey!” someone calls.
You turn to see your cousin Julia leaning against the stall door, arms crossed, smiling wide.
“No way,” she says in disbelief. “You’re actually real.” She squeals
You roll your eyes and cross the space and hug her. She laughs brightly.
“You look good,” she says. “Different. But good.” Her eyes rove over you, head to toe.