Who came up with the word forever? Why would someone make a word that fills people with a sense of false hope that always ends in tears and pain. Nothing lasts forever. Friends, happiness, love, and i could go on and on talking my head off about the pain that word gives me, but whats the use? Everyone knows that already. But i never did. I mean, of course I knew that nothing literally lasts forever, but i thought my life would stay on its same, happy track. 

I slowly turned onto smaller and smaller roads until my creaky old off white Toyota came to a stop in front of the ranch house.  The moment i opened my door, the dirt road blew a flurry of a dust storm right where i was sitting. 

After getting thrown into a coughing fit, i took a deep breath and slid off the drivers seat. The hot, cactus filled Arizona desert around me fuelled my exhaustion to the point where i wondered if someone could get heat stroke within minutes of standing under the insufferable sun above my head. 

Once my rough hands were filled with piles of boxes, i shut my trunk and looked at the old house. The cracked paint on the walls and shaded windows looked almost the exact opposite of ‘welcoming’, to say the least, and i expected less of the inside.

With three swift motions, i knocked on the door.

Not waiting a minute for a response, a small woman in her fifties with graying black hair and a sorrowful look on her face answered the door.

After a long look, she pulled me into an awkward hug. “Im so sorry Haven.” The woman says, the southern twang of her voice woven in her words even with the few she said, her pity for me etched into her lopsided smile. 

I tried to match her facade, but i couldn’t bear to fake anything, not now. “I—“ I paused for words, my voice strained from my silent car ride all the way down from Los Angeles. “Don’t be sorry for me. Thank you for letting me stay.” She nodded and took a stride back from the doorway to let me enter. I can tell she looks uncomfortable about the house’s state, piles of antique junk and old unwanted clutter reaching the roof. But not enough concern to clean it.

The woman wrapped the little black shawl around her tighter, though it was far from cold in this desert. 

“Where are my manners?” She slaps her head, stuttering as she reaches a hand out. “I know you know who I an already but weve never been properly introduced somehow.”

And yet you act like it wasn’t your choice to stay that way. I think, a little annoyed at her intolerance to her own actions. Carefully balancing boxes of everything I own, I shake her outstretched hand with mild frustration, but with some form of obligation to the woman who was about to share her home with me. 

“Its… nice to finally meet you, Aunt Clara.” I let go of her hand. “And thank you again.”

And after my hand is fully down, she scoops it up in hers, almost cradling it. “Sweetheart, anything after what Ray did.”

I try not to flinch at the mention of his name, but nothing seems to go unnoticed to Clara. She stares at me for a long beat, then drops my hand entirely. “Your room is the first door on the left down that hallway.” She leans forward to help me bring my boxes into the room, but i stagger back. 

“I got it.” I curve around her and stride to my new room. 

I don’t look back, but i can tell shes just standing there, dumbfounded, as she yells after me, “I– go ahead and call for me if you need help!”

Following Aunt Clara’s simple instructions, i turned down the hallway and open the door, the creak you would expect of a horror movie rattling from it. 

The room’s layout was simple, a wooden sliding door closet and a queen sized bed, the comforter decorated with a simple cactus design. Surprisingly, it was clean, unlike the rest of her estranged aunt’s house. To the right of the bed, a door connected to a small, plain bathroom. 

Plain. Plain is good. Plain is safe. I hear myself think. Old Haven wouldn’t have thought that. Old Haven would have greeted her aunt with a happy hug, bright eyes, a smile. 

I frowned at the thought. A smile was something I hadn’t done since the breakup. I place the boxes down on the ground and sit on the bed, blinking rapidly to keep the tears away. 

Crying was another thing Old Haven never did. Then again, that version of myself had no reason to. I had him. As much as I’d try to push the memories of him away, Ray’s face would never stop appearing in my mind. I sighed and stared at the roof until my emotions were back under my control and sighed. I supposed id probably need to apologize to Aunt Clara. After a quick glance in the mirror of my new bathroom to see if i looked as if i were crying — to my relief, no indication was there — I opened my door and walked out just to collide with Clara. 

I take a dazy step back and look at Clara. But to my surprise, a tall, muscular man with shaggy sandy blonde hair and a flannel shirt stood in front of me. Immediately, i felt my face flush to the shade of a perfectly ripe cherry tomato. 

“Oh god, I— I didn’t— who—“

He looks just as surprised as i was, looking down at me in shock.

“Im sorry.” we say in perfect unison, and attempt to walk past each other, but each of us step to the right, then the left, and i just turn back into the bedroom. When i hear his footsteps pass i jump out to the kitchen to find Clara. 

“Who… is in your house!?” i erupt, just to find the man talking to Clara about the same problem. Which i supposed was me, in his case.

She shakes her head at us both. “Haven! I must have forgotten, this is Weston Reed, he works at my ranch.” She shoulders him and he jumps, still uneasy about the collision i supposed, and to be honest, so was i.

“Weston, this is my niece, Haven Collins.” She stares at us, almost willing us to shake hands.  I reach my hand out first, tense. “Hi.” I manage to mutter.

He nods and shakes my hand stiffly, almost robotic. “Hey.” He opened his mouth to say more, but stopped and looked away.

I felt my face heat and turn on my heel back to the room i never should have come out of. “Great you was meeting! I—“ I clench my fists and practically run to the bedroom, spreading out as i lay face first on the bed. _Stupid stupid stupid!! I _smack my face, mortified by what id done, in front of someone id probably be seeing a lot, if he works here as Clara said. I grimace at the thought. 

I slide off the bed, shaking off the feeling. i needed to unpack, and i knew if i didnt do it now i never would. 

after a long a tedious process that took much too long for what it was worth. Looking out the window the most beautiful sunset id ever seen painted the horizon. Los Angeles sunsets weren’t ever bad, but they dulled in comparison. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I hear feom the doorway.  Immediately i turn atound, startled. “Clara! Uour in here!” i cough out the response. “Sorry to come without knockingI just wanted to say Sally made dinner, just a little way to welcome you to Tucson!” Clara beamed at me. “Sally?” 

She seems confused. “Did i not introduce you to all my ranch staff?” 

I shake my head and she reaches for my hand as i put it out of reach, and all she grabs is my fingers. She smiles softly. “Come out Haven.” Reluctantly, i followed her out, not before pull my hand away, and we walk into a giant dining room, a ling farm table that could seat 12. And seat twelve it did. Then other ranch staff were in the room, which Aunt Clara wasted no time introducing me to. 

First each girl came up and welcomed me: Sally, her chef, a petite woman with short blonde hair that barely reached her chin, Sierra, a woman who specialized in organizing fun kid events, Bonnie in housekeeping, Wyatt and Josephine who trained horses and their riders. Then the boys, Austin the handyman, Alma the veterinarian, and two herdsman, Noah and Sawyer. 

“And of course you’ve already met Weston!” Clara looked at me like I was the most beautiful diamond she’d ever seen. 

Sierra narrowed her eyes at me. “Weston huh? Not my first choice, but brave.” She gave me a wink.

My smile turned to a tight frown. “I— We—”  Weston shook his head at Sierra. “It wasn’t like that, we ran into eachother earlier.” 

_Literally. _I thought. Weston paused at the edge of the table. His eyes flicked to me, just for a second too long. Then he sat without a word. I sat in a chair beside the housekeeping girl, I’d already forgotten her name, and Aunt Clara. Everyone was chatting, as if they were all old friends meeting again after a long time apart, though to my understanding they would work together every day. Clara stands and the room quiets. 

She clears her throat and eyes everyone before her eyes fall to me. “Thank you, everyone for coming to this special dinner!” she wiggles her fingers at the word special, as if she spread fairy dust with each flutter. 

“My neice will be staying with us, all the way from _Los Angeles, _so lets welcome her to our ranch family!” 

Everyone clapped as if i was the queen of England here to stay. It was more attention then id had in a long while and i hated taht the first impression they had of me was an always flushed face. Weston and i locked eyes for a second. His eyes flashed. With what—recognition? Judgment? Hatred? I couldn't tell. I didn’t want to. I scowled back. If he wanted a rival, than let him have it.

Once my mind caught up to the present, i realized people were trying to ask me questions. 

“So?” The cook, Sally, questioned. 

“What did you say?”

She guffaws and repeats herself. “Why’d you come all the way from shining los Angeles to our humble desert?” 

I shudder. This was the last thing i wanted to talk about, but i decided if Clara was being true about being their new _ranch family, _i supposed the truth was what they wanted. 

“Glad its not on the news.” The girls laugh at that, but it wasnt meant as a joke. 

“I… lost my job.” I left out the part that i lost my soulmate, apartment, and made headlines because of it. 

The housekeeping girl, whose name id finally remembered, Bonnie, who’s been silent this whole time patted my arm softly. “Been there, done that,” She whispered.

I turned to her, somehow touched by the small gesture, and offered a sideways smile. “Thanks.”

Everyone who had heard my answer gave me an apologetic frown. “I don’t need your pity!” I practically shouted. “It… doesn’t even matter.”  After that, scooped up a spoonful of mashed potatoes that i didn’t even realize was on my plate into my mouth, clearly ending the subject. The group continued on a different topic quite quickly thankfully, and i just continued to eat.

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