Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“‘Aaoo, werewolves of London!’” Zevon howled, the beat kicking in, and for a moment, it almost felt like summer again.
But my father, ever the killjoy, grunted and turned the volume right back down with a flick of his wrist.
“Christ, Tommy, you call this music? Sounds like a man stranglin’ a cat.”
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “It’s a hit song, Dad. Number one a few weeks ago.”
“So’s that Gibb boy and his whinin’ disco noise, but that don’t mean I gotta listen to it,” he shot back. “You boys and your nonsense music.”
“It’s not nonsense,” I argued, though I knew better than to press it. Dad was a Johnny Cash and Merle Haggard kind of man, and anything that didn’t come out of a steel guitar or a storytelling ballad was garbage to him.
We fell into a comfortable silence, the road stretching ahead, the tires humming beneath us. I watched the pastures pass, the rolling green hills I’d spent my entire life on. And yet, by tomorrow, I’d be in another country entirely, working a job I didn’t ask for.
Dad tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, exhaling through his nose. “Gas is up to seventy cents a gallon.”
I glanced over at him, raising a brow. “Yeah? What was it before?”
“Was under fifty not too long ago,” he muttered. “Inflation’s got everything climbing. Feed’s up, wages are up, costs to run the farm—damn near double what they were five years ago.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t oblivious—I knew times were tighter than they used to be. But in my head, Blackburn Farms had always been untouchable.
“It ain’t the end of the world,” he continued, reading my silence. “We’re still strong. But things change, and if you’re not payin’ attention, it’ll slip right through your fingers before you even realize it.”
I shifted in my seat, staring out the window.
“That why you’re sendin’ me off?” I asked, my tone a little sharper than I meant it to be. “Because you think I’m not payin’ attention?”
Dad sighed, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “I’m sending you because it’ll be good for you.”
“Coulda been good for me right here,” I muttered.
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But this will be better. Trust me.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I knew deep down that he wasn’t wrong.
He glanced at me, his expression softer than I expected. “Tommy, I know you work. I know you know horses. You make good grades in college. But workin’ under your own father, in your own backyard, that’s easy. You always got a safety net. This? This is different. You go to Glenhaven, you prove yourself to men who don’t give a damn about your last name. You’ll see a different side of the business, a different breed. You might even learn something worth bringing back home.”
I gave him the side-eye. “You just want me outta your hair for the summer.”
Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’d rather have you here. But sometimes, the best lessons ain’t learned where you’re comfortable.”
I let that sit for a moment, still resisting, still wanting to hold on to my frustration, but it was hard when he wasn’t lecturing me—he was just telling me how it was.
“You’ll be fine,” he added, tapping the wheel with his fingers. “And who knows, you might even love it.”
I snorted skeptically. “Yeah, I wouldn’t bet on that.”
“Always stubborn,” he murmured. “I expect you to do me proud over there.”
I stared at the road ahead.
“Glenhaven is a dynasty just like Blackburn. They do things different, yeah, but that’s why you need to see it. One day, when you’re running this place, you’ll understand that knowledge is power.”
I stayed quiet.
He continued to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. “Besides, if you’re lucky, you’ll find something worth your time over there.”
I snorted. “Like what? A woman with an accent?”
Dad chuckled. “A pretty girl with a cute accent? There could be worse things.”
When we pulled up to the airport, I felt the first pang of reality settle in. This was happening.
Dad threw the truck into park and turned to me, his expression unreadable.
“Last chance to tell me you’re excited about this.”
I gave him a flat look.
He grinned. “Figured as much.”
I grabbed my suitcase and stepped out. The air smelled different here—too sterile, too far removed from the pastures of home.
Dad got out too, and for a second, we just stood there.
Then, in a rare show of something deeper than words, he clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“You’re a Blackburn,” he said, his voice steady. “Remember that.”
I swallowed, nodding.
And with one last glance at the life I was leaving behind, I turned and walked into the airport.
Not knowing that the summer ahead would change my life forever.
CHAPTER 5
Fiona
Saturday mornings at Glenhaven always followed the same rhythm. Mam cooked a huge Irish breakfast complete with eggs, rashers, black pudding, fried tomatoes, beans and soda bread. She moved between the stove and the table, trying to get us all fed, while Paddy and Siobhan traded barbs, their laughter bouncing off the stone walls.