Page 6 of Downpour

The smellof lumber and sawdust lingered in the air as I wheeled myself up the ramp to my new house.

It was a work in progress, with missing closet doors, exposed electrical sockets, and half-installed appliances. None of that mattered to me. I could always pay someone to deal with the details later.

I shoved on the wheels to push myself up the last bit of the wheelchair ramp, ignoring the ache in my arms.

This land had been mine since birth. All three of my brothers had their own plots, too. Christian and Nate had built their homes years ago. They were older and ready to settle down with their families. I’d held onto my piece even while living in Colorado for most of my twenties.

Sure, I let them use it for the cattle, but I never developed it myself.

I made it onto the porch and spun myself around with a sigh. I never thought my piece of the Griffith Brothers Ranch would need to be wheelchair accessible.

But at least I was alone.

Christian and Nate’s houses stood to the east, with the main house a little north of that. Cassandra, Christian’s fiancé and the ranch’s property manager, was busy overseeing the construction of the lodge and restaurant on the west side.

Nobody ventured out to the south end where my house was tucked away. It was intentionally obscured by a veil of trees and accessible only by a dirt path winding around the ranch, out to the service road.

I pushed the front door open and breathed in the crisp smell of fresh paint.

“Oh, hello!” an unexpected voice greeted me from inside, shattering my moment of peace. “You must be Ray.”

I sat, motionless, and stared at the stern-looking, gray-haired woman who was looking back at me. She’d invited herself into my home and was putting sheets on…

My jaw clenched.

That fucking hospital bed had been moved from my parents’ place to mine.

I wanted to spin my chair around, slam the door shut, and set this place on fire.

“I don’t care who you are,” I growled, rolling back from the doorway. “Just get out of my house.”

The woman laughed as if I was kidding.

I wasn’t.

“Your momma told me you were a little prickly.” She offered a warm smile. “But it doesn’t bother me. I’m just here to help.”

Her scrubs told me as much, but I wasn’t having it.

I stabbed a finger at the door. “Out.”

ONE YEAR AND ONE MONTH AFTER THE ACCIDENT

Christian sat on my couch,pressing his fingers to his eyes. “You can’t keep firing people.”

“That’s the fourth CNA you’ve scared off this week,” CJ pointed out. “Do you think these people grow on trees?”

Becks took a nicer approach. “It’s a small town. There aren’t many options.”

Nate nodded in agreement.

I didn’t bother looking up from the length of rope I was tying in knots. My brothers and sisters-in-law were the ones who staged this intervention. They weren’t owed my attention.

I loosened the overhand knot so I could tie it again. It was a mind-numbing activity that helped improve the dexterity in my hands.

“Then stop sending people where they’re not wanted,” I muttered.

Cassandra snorted and glanced at Christian. “Told you.”

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