“What?” Maggie’s eyes went round. “That’s way too much.”
I shrugged. “Take it up with the trees.” I gestured up thehill toward the tree line, where generations of my family’s hard work towered over us.
I felt closest to them up there—Mom and Dad, and even my grandparents. This land was important. To me and to generations of my family. It had been easy to walk away from the money and the suits and the private clubs of New York. Because my heart was here, in these tree roots.
In the main barn, Julian immediately jumped on top of a backhoe, the machinery too tempting for him.
Celine was right behind him, pulling him off.
“Stop,” I barked. “Don’t climb on that. Ever.”
He froze, his head lowering.
“There’s a lot of stuff here that could hurt you. You should never come in here without me.”
Maggie and Ellie both nodded. Julian continued staring at his feet.
Celine crossed her arms, her posture defensive, like a coiled snake about to strike. “I do watch my children.”
“Good,” I said flatly. “Because this place doesn’t give second chances.”
I finished the warning off with a nod. Dammit, when had a simple safety briefing turned into a standoff?
Part of me wanted to come out and ask “who hurt you?” But I killed that instinct quickly. It was none of my business. She was a tenant. We all had shit to deal with. Nothing good would come from getting curious about this woman.
The girls were unimpressed by the machinery, wandering aimlessly but sticking close. But Julian was in heaven.
Memories of following my dad and uncle around when I was his age assaulted me. By the time I was old enough to goto school, I was desperate to take apart an engine and prove myself. Dad never let me touch the “good” tools, but I had access to an older set, and he always left broken equipment lying around for me to practice on.
For a moment, I envisioned teaching Julian the way Dad had taught me. Giving him his first socket wrench as a coming-of-age moment. I closed my eyes and willed the thought away. It was stupid. He wasn’t my son, and it didn’t seem like Celine liked to let him out of her sight. Not that he wasn’t a bit wily. The first time I’d met him, he’d gotten away from her. I’d add more cameras to the outside of this building and pray that he’d stay out.
She just continued to glare at me like I’d accused her of negligence.
I held her gaze. I wasn’t backing down. Not when serious injury was a possibility. I’d been kind and accommodating thus far, but this was a working farm, and I couldn’t wrap the kid in bubble wrap.
“This isn’t personal,” I said. “It’s safety.”
“Feels personal,” she shot back.
“Not my problem.”
Our staring competition was quickly interrupted by a clanging sound.
In the five seconds we’d locked eyes, Julian had wandered to the far side of the barn and pulled a huge coil of tubing off one of the hooks. What could happen next flashed in my mind. The entire thing coming down on him. Broken bones, head trauma. An ambulance too far away.
Celine shouted sharply, her voice filled with raw fear. The sound punched a hole in my chest. Nothysteria, but memory. The kind a person doesn’t forget once they’ve heard it.
I sprinted over, pushed him aside, and grabbed the coil. It only weighed about fifty pounds, but if it had fallen on him, it could have done serious damage. Jaw clenched tight, I rewound it around the hook. Then I snagged a roll of duct tape from a nearby shelf and taped the end down so he couldn’t pull it loose again.
Next to me, Julian hadn’t moved, other than to lower his head. Rather than fight or flight, his instinct was to freeze. Shit. What a terrible place for that to kick in.
“Julian. You can’t touch,” Celine said, her voice shaking.
The kid didn’t move. He was a complete statue, his lack of response tempting me to inspect him to make sure he was breathing.
I’d barely resisted the urge when he started to shake. Celine wrapped her arms around him, and then he was thrashing against her. His movements were stronger than I could have imagined, but she remained calm. Within seconds, he settled, burying his face in her neck.
She stroked his back. “I know you’re curious. But you can’t touch things in here.”