Page 19 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

I tense, memories of late nights spent pouring over manuals, of grease-stained hands and determination born of desperation, flashing through my mind.

“Necessity,” I say shortly. “Now, are you gonna fix this thing or what?”

Shane gives me a long look, like he wants to say more. But he just nods, turning back to the engine.

We fall into a rhythm, working side by side. As much as I hate to admit it, we make a good team. Shane’s calm efficiency complements my quick problem-solving. Before long, the new radiator hose is in place.

“Moment of truth,” Shane says, wiping his hands on a rag. “Want to do the honors?”

I climb into the cab, my heart pounding as I turn the key. The engine roars to life, purring smoothly. Relief washes over me, followed quickly by a grudging respect for Shane’s work.

I hop down, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Not bad, Kennedy. Guess you’re not completely useless after all.”

Shane grins, the expression lighting up his face. “High praise indeed. I’ll treasure this moment forever.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Don’t let it go to your head. We’ve still got a ton of work to do.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, my stomach dropping as I see the school’s number flash across the screen.

“Shit,” I mutter, stepping away from Shane. “I gotta take this.”

I answer the call, my heart racing. “Ms. Duncan speaking.”

The principal’s voice comes through, tight with barely contained frustration. “Ms. Duncan, I’m afraid we’ve had another incident with Ashanti. She’s been in a fight, and we need you to come pick her up immediately.”

My chest tightens, a mix of worry and anger swirling in my gut. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I end the call, running a hand through my hair. Guilt and frustration war within me. I should be there for Ashanti, but I can’t just leave in the middle of the day. Not when there’s so much work to be done.

“Everything okay?” Shane’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.

I turn, forcing a neutral expression onto my face. “Fine. Just some personal stuff I need to deal with.”

Shane’s brow furrows, concern evident in his eyes. “Anything I can help with?”

For a moment, I’m tempted. The offer of help, freely given, is so rare in my life. But I can’t. I won’t let myself be that vulnerable, that dependent on anyone else.

“I’ve got it handled,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. “Let’s just focus on getting this work done.”

Shane holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, just thought I’d offer.”

I nod curtly, already moving toward the next piece of equipment that needs attention. “Thanks for the help with the tractor. I’ll take it from here.”

As I walk away, I can feel Shane’s eyes on my back. The weight of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, one I stubbornly ignore.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of grease and metal. I throw myself into the work, using the physical labor to push away thoughts of Ashanti, of the school, of Shane’s knowing looks.

By the time the sun starts to set, casting long shadows across the equipment yard, I’m exhausted. My muscles ache, and there’s a persistent throb behind my eyes. But at least the work is done for now.

I wipe my hands on a rag, surveying the yard. Most of the other workers have already headed in for the night. But as I turn to leave, I spot a familiar figure leaning against one of the tractors.

Shane straightens as I approach, his expression unreadable in the fading light. “Long day,” he says, his voice low.

I nod, too tired to keep up my usual defenses. “Yeah, it was.”

We stand in silence for a moment, the quiet of the evening settling around us. In the distance, I can hear the low moo of cattle being herded in for the night.

“Want to grab a beer?” Shane asks suddenly.

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