Page 11 of One Heated Summer

I lifted her into my arms, settled on the couch and held Harlyn close. Seeing her so distressed caused my heart to ache. I wanted to wipe away the heartbreak my city girl was suffering but knew it wasn’t and never would be possible.

Gradually, Harlyn’s sobs began to subside, leaving her breathing heavily in my arms. I gently pulled back to look at her, brushing a stray hair from her tear-streaked face. She lookedutterly exhausted, the toll of her grief evident in her every feature.

“Harlyn, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” I said softly, concern lacing my words. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? You need to take care of yourself.”

She nodded weakly, wiping away the remaining tears with the back of her hand. “I know, it’s just been so hard...”

“I understand,” I replied, helping her to lie back on the couch and covering her with a blanket. “But you can’t pour from an empty cup. I’ll be here, keeping watch. Just close your eyes for a bit.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and within moments, she was asleep, her breathing deep and even. I watched over her, my mind racing with thoughts of how to support her through this difficult time. Harlyn had always been strong, but even the strongest people needed a shoulder to lean on sometimes.

Chapter Seven

Harlyn

I stirred, my eyes fluttering open to find Jensen still by my side. He offered a comforting smile and gently stroked the hair back from my face.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he said softly. "Feeling any better?"

I sighed, my eyes still heavy. "A little. It's just...everything feels overwhelming."

Jensen nodded, taking my hand in his. "I know, darlin’. I can't imagine what you're going through right now because I was born and bred in these parts. I understand how hard and cruellife can be at times. I need you to understand that life out here is the polar opposite of that in the city. Loss is a normal part of ranching, of living on the land. It's hard, really hard, but it's something we have to accept and learn to live with because it can’t be changed."

I looked at him, feeling a mixture of curiosity and sadness. "How do you cope with it then, Jensen? How do you keep going?"

"It's not easy," he admitted. "There are days when it feels like the weight of it all might crush you. But you find strength in the small victories, in the community, in knowing you're doing your best for the land and the animals. And you lean on the people around you, just like you're leaning on me now."

I squeezed his hand, grateful for his presence. "Thank you, Jensen. For everything."

"Always," he replied. "Now, let's take it one step at a time. I’ll help you get through this and so will your men. Lean on them. As I’ve said before…they’re good men and will take care of you."

Our eyes met, a silent promise within Jensen’s. He would not leave me to face my challenges alone. I began to see the light at the end of the tunnel and knew I could face whatever lay ahead, especially with Jensen by my side and the support of my men.

“Have you eaten?” Jensen asked, taking one of my hands and kissing the knuckles.

I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Ranching is hard work, Harlyn, and you need to eat good meals to maintain your strength. How about I make you something?”

“I’ll cook something later,” I argued.

Jensen shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t think you will.”

“I…” I opened my mouth to protest when a loud banging sounded at the door.

Jensen released my hand and pushed to his feet. “I’ll see who that is, although my guess is it’s Elijah.”

“Probably come to check on me again,” I mumbled.

Elijah had been coming up to the house every evening, ensuring I was dealing with all that had happened. I didn’t think I’d managed to convince him I was doing fine.

He entered the living room with Jensen by his side and frowned when he looked my way. “You been cryin’, Missy?”

‘Missy’ was the nickname the men had adopted because they insisted it didn’t seem right to call their boss by her first name. I’d argued they had called grandfather by his name but it hadn’t made a scrap of difference so Missy it was.

I shook my head but when Jensen raised an eyebrow, I confessed, “Just being silly. The loss of cattle, especially the babies…” I shrugged. “It broke my heart when our dog, Shiny, died when I was twelve and mom and dad refused to ever allow me another pet. I ended up having therapy because I wasn’t recovering from the grief. The therapist said I feel a deep empathy for animals which is why their death hits hard.”

Elijah settled on a chair opposite and Jensen sat beside me on the couch, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and giving me comfort.

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