It doesn’t mean repairs can’t start now. It only means that anything that’s done will be out-of-pocket, and I can’t expect Dr. Schoen to cover that. Kellen’s boss, Kynan McGrath, has a good friend who’s a general contractor, and he can get a crew here tomorrow to start demo on the portions that are too ruined to save.
But I need money to get it going. I’d love to have as much done as possible by the time Dr. Schoen returns stateside.
As a veterinarian only a few years out of school, I don’t make a lot. While my education was funded by an educational trust, I still live hand-to-mouth, mainly because it’s expensive to keep a horse. But leaving Lunar in Kentucky wasn’t an option.
I have an option, though.
It’s not ideal, but it’s an option.
Pulling out my phone, I call Ethan. We haven’t spoken since I told him to leave three days ago. Kat confirmed they arrived back in Kentucky late that night, not happy with the “state of affairs,” as Ethan called it.
Big ol’ stick in the mud.
He answers on the first ring, and it’s so abrupt—I sort of expected him to send me to voicemail—I’m momentarily speechless.
“Abby?” he says gruffly. “Are you there?”
“Um… yeah. Sorry. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“Why call, then?”
I tamp down the spike of irritation. “I just thought you’d be busy, but I was going to leave a message.”
“I see.” Two small words. A whole lot of empty space in the conversation. He’s making me work for it. He has no clue why I’m calling, but I bet he’s assuming it’s to apologize.
Sadly, he’s going to be disappointed.
“I need a favor.” Short, to the point. “I need money.”
Ethan sighs, and I can imagine him rubbing the back of his neck. Ethan has worn the weight of the world on his shoulders running Blackburn Farms since my parents quietly retired and left all operations to him. He rubs at his neck a lot.
I don’t wait for him to grill me and launch into my pitch. “I want to repair the barn for Dr. Schoen. I’m confident the investigator is going to rule this as arson, because… well, it was. And when that happens, the insurance won’t pay.”
“So you want to rebuild the barn for her?” he asks.
“It’s my fault it happened,” I murmur, my heart heavy with the disastrous fallout of my actions. “I have to do it.”
Ethan is silent a long moment as he considers this. The one thing I have going for me is that my oldest brother is big on personal responsibility, so my intentions will appeal to him. But I also know him… he’s probably trying to figure out how he can use this to get me home.
I’m surprised when he doesn’t offer a solution that will benefit him and Blackburn Farms. “What did you have in mind?”
“You loan me the money, and I’ll pay you back at eight percent interest when I access my trust fund.”
Yes, I have a trust fund. A hefty one that was seeded with five million dollars on my birth. It’s obviously appreciated to a lot more in the past twenty-seven years, but I cannot touch it until I’m thirty. Ethan was able to access his eight years ago, but he doesn’t use it. He lives in the main house and makes a ridiculous but well-earned salary as the farm’s CEO.
“I’ll loan you the money, no interest required, and you can pay me back when you have access to your trust.”
I don’t respond but rather hold my breath—I know there’s more coming. That’s a shockingly generous offer, and no business-minded person would ever make it. Ethan is a businessman, and it means he wants something.
So I wait for what else I might have to give.
When the silence extends, I start to sweat. It’s going to be big… probably a requirement I come home, which is impossible. I’ll have to ask Trey next as he accessed his fund three years ago. But he’ll want to consult Ethan, and I’ll end up in the same place. Trey wants me home too.
Oh, if only Wade had his trust—he’d gladly offer a loan and would never require me to give up my current dreams.
“Abby?” Ethan says, his voice hesitant. “Are you there?”
“Yeah. I’m just waiting to hear the rest of your terms.”
“There aren’t any other terms.” I jolt in shock, sitting straight in my chair. “Just pay me back when you have access to your trust.”
“I don’t understand,” I stammer.
“I don’t understand what you don’t understand. Do you want the money or not?”
I should rush to accept, but I can’t miss an opportunity to try to understand the enigma that is my oldest brother. The man who carries the entire family on his back, is rigid in his control and outlook, and never has time to consider other people’s feelings. “Of course, I want the money. But I want to know why you aren’t making me jump through hoops for it.”