Chapter Text
If someone would’ve told Azzi two months ago that she would be back on the ranch and fixing a trough feeder at 6:30 in the morning, she likely would’ve laughed in their face. She knew leaving Texas was an unlikely expectation for her at her age, but she had left the ranch behind nearly ten years ago. She hadn’t planned on coming back. She planned on settling into a sales office job that was perfectly respectable that she would eventually retire from. That was the plan, but there were definitely dreams of a business of her own. She wanted to help support local women and provide opportunities for her community, but sales would have to do.
It was perfect. Well, at one point it was perfect and even likely.
Nearly a month ago she had received a call from Eli saying he had to go. Saying the alcohol was ruining his life. His boys deserved better. His midnight ramblings came to fruition the next morning when Enzo had shown up at her door with keys, paperwork, and two very red-faced boys who needed her.
Now, she was here. Sore and exhausted as shit, but here.
“Damn it,” Azzi grunts out as she drops the oversized equipment bag into the back of the truck she had maneuvered across the ranch.
Her phone vibrated wildly in her pocket. Azzi liked to consider herself old, wise, and level-headed, though in this moment she was closer to the raging bitch her younger brother painted her as. All she could do was mumble some expletives under her breath as she wipes at the sweat that had gathered on her temples. Her free hand digging into her pockets grabbing the damned device to shut it up.
Enzo. The name mockingly glared up at her.
“Hello,” her tone was clipped as she shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder, her hands immediately pushing forward to adjust the straps on the bag.
“Good morning, Azzi!” His tone was cheery and pissed Azzi off in the way that reminded her of what a younger brother would do.
Enzo wasn’t her brother. He wasn’t even family. Enzo was the business manager that her brother, Eli, had hired before he decided that he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself and a bottle of whiskey.
Enzo had all but kept the ranch afloat while he convinced Eli to hand the keys to the ranch over to Azzi and check himself into some rehabilitation center in Montana. It was over-priced but the only one Eli had been willing to attend with promises of the ranch life he would be leaving behind. He had no faith in Azzi to truly keep this place afloat, but trusted Enzo enough to ensure the business handlings wouldn’t fall apart.
Not only did he leave Azzi with the ranch that was in shambles, but he also decided that his sons would become Azzi’s responsibility. Well, he asked and Azzi accepted, but the point still stood. She hadn’t had kids on purpose and now is responsible for keeping two teenage boys, a ranch, and herself alive and well. She needed help.
“What do you want?” Her tone didn’t hint at kindness that she couldn’t offer to Enzo this early in the morning.
“Well, isn’t someone just so cheery this morning?” His voice carried teasingly through the phone, Azzi just rolled her eyes, “I am so happy to share that I just met with three potential ranch hands and have a recommendation to help you out at the Grove.”
Azzi sighs as she reaches back to rub at the sore spot on her shoulder. She should feel relieved, and part of her did. But she also was independent to a fault and stubborn as hell. Asking for help was something she never wanted to do. This is partially from growing up as the only girl in her family who was also the stereotypical closeted lesbian growing in the late nineties. She hated feeling weak.
“Thanks,” she huffs out, pinching her eyes shut trying to work through her own personal shit, Enzo didn’t deserve that, “when d’ya want to meet and go over their paperwork?” Azzi keeps the phone pressed tightly between her shoulder and ear as she slams the bed shut and wraps around to the front of the old truck that Azzi was sure the ranch was built around.
After hopping in the front and slamming the old door shut, Azzi turns the call to the speaker phone and rolls the windows down. She might’ve wanted to leave ranch life behind, but the breeze associated with her family’s ranch was second to none. The air wrapped her up and carried the smell of damp earth and freshly cut hay. Things smelled easy and soothing in a way the world outside the ranch never seemed to carry.
“Well, I can go over my recommendation now to give you time to make your decision and then we can meet this afternoon to finalize anything,” his tone shifted to a more business-driven tone that carried far more professionalism than his jovial words from earlier.
Azzi hums in agreement at the suggestion, inviting him to continue as the engine of the truck rumbles to life around her. Her experienced hands shift the truck into gear as she pulls forward with practiced precision in navigating the area.
“So, after meeting with the three top prospects we discussed earlier, I think Paige would be our best pick,” his voice pauses and Azzi hears the shuffling of papers on the other end as she passes by the newer horse barns and back towards their personal, more dated barn. “Her experience has been at the Grotto and they speak highly of her. She is only leaving to be closer to home. She has years of working in maintenance and repair on ranches, and her livestock handling is highly commended. She’s just solid and brings a high work ethic.”
Azzi considers the words. Her vision for the ranch is probably dissimilar to some of the expectations her brother had held. She wanted to get things organized so that their family could have a more hands off approach. She wanted to hire someone efficient but also someone who would be willing to work through owner transfers if necessary. The ranch didn’t need to be a permanent fixture in their lives.
“Have any experience with irrigation pivot maintenance?” Azzi questions knowing their systems were due for updating and any time she could avoid meeting with their local irrigation specialists was for the better.
Enzo chuckles, clearly understanding the reference and concern, “actually yes, did an internship under Shaun.” Azzi winces at the prick’s name.
“Poor girl,” she mutters in pity as she pulls up to the house that her family had built the ranch around. The only reason they held onto this damn ranch.
Enzo laughed at Azzi’s bluntness in understanding. Shaun was the local irrigation specialist who thought he was the greatest thing in Southwest Texas. He was a prick at the highest degree and made Azzi angry without even trying too hard. They had graduated school together and he was convinced, this many years later, that he was what she needed to finally reconsider her sexuality.
“She comes highly recommended and really just wants to work,” Enzo pauses, Azzi hears shuffling on the other end, “plus, she really does have a heart for animals and the hard work.”
Azzi softens at that. The animals were the part that softened her when it came to ranch life. Her own pets and animals didn’t let her stray too far and encouraged her to return when her brother and Enzo had approached her. He knew this would get her.
“Are there any reasons I would not want her specifically?” Azzi asked and Enzo seemed to expect the question and was able to respond smoothly, “she is the perfect candidate. You will love her!”
His voice was soft and kind, easing her worries so simply. She sighs as she shifts the truck and brings it to a park outside her house. She allows herself a moment of shutting her eyes, letting her choices float easily behind her eyes. She trusts Enzo, and he trusts Paige.
“Go ahead and start the process, we will see how she works out,” Azzi responds. Her words carried a weight of finality that she was not feeling. She has always struggled with accepting help, so this felt a lot heavier than any other hiring she did. This was accepting that she couldn’t carry the weight of the ranch on her shoulders.
Azzi could almost hear the grin in Enzo’s follow up, “you will love her. I will set up a meeting for you two tomorrow and we can iron out the little things tonight.” His words were rushed, and she could instantly hear the typing of his computer filling out the sounds through her speakers.
Not spending too much time on pleasantries, Azzi ends the call and climbs out of the truck. She left her work bag and tools in the bed of the trunk as she hurried inside. The old hickory steps creaked under her weight as she stepped up to the old wrap around porch. Her footsteps hurried and pointed as she opened the door to see most lights still off save for the upstairs hall light. Her nephews should be getting ready for school.
“Ethan? Sam?” Azzi calls up the steps with her hand tiredly wrapping around the railing that she was hardly sure could hold her up, “you guys up?”
She waits in silence for a few moments before the sounds of rushed movements sound again upstairs, both of her nephews responding in clipped exhaustion. She couldn’t entirely blame them. The three of them had gone to a baseball game at their school the night before and had not made it home until they were closer to midnight.
Azzi had let them sleep in until nearly 6:30 when she had to go out and fix the feeder in the horse barn. Both boys had awoken with minimal complaints but heavy teenage angst etched onto their faces.
Azzi appreciated her nephews. Ethan was 16 and Sam was only 14, but both had more life experiences than she would ever wish upon anyone. The boys had lost their mom in early childhood. After their mom had passed, their father had turned to alcohol. Azzi hadn’t learned about this until more recently, but the boys had been primarily running the ranch and practically raising themselves and their father.
If she sat and thought about it too long, the guilt would eat at her. She wished she had known. Wished she could’ve stopped this before it got as far as it did. The boys deserved better. Azzi had never wanted kids of her own, but she was fiercely protective of her nephews who she saw in a similar light to her own. They were her boys and she had no idea what they were struggling through. The boys would never say as much, but she had a feeling that they felt the let down she had given them early in life.
“Auntie Az, can you start the Keruig?” Sam called down the stairs, Azzi smiled at the request before calling back an affirmative response.
Sam saw his older brother carrying a thermos around with coffee and wanted so badly to be like Ethan. Azzi knew he didn’t like coffee, but would endearingly make a mocha each morning.
Azzi moved naturally through the kitchen. She started the Keurig and got out cereal bowls for the boys while they finished up getting ready. She waited for them at the counter, her laptop open as she scrolled through her emails. Their morning routine flows simply at this point with the boys and her maneuvering naturally around each other after the month that their dad had been away. No one knew how long Eli would be gone, but Azzi was determined to allow the boys a feeling of normal.
“Why can’t you just drive us?” Ethan groans as he hurries in pouring himself a rushed bowl of cereal. Azzi smirks, remembering her own hatred of high school buses at the earliest hours.
“Some of us have work to do,” Azzi states simply as she types on her laptop for emphasis, though her eyes don’t leave her bitter nephew, “plus, you can get your license soon.”
Ethan shovels a spoonful of cereal into his mouth as his younger brother rushes past him and towards the Keurig.
“Are you actually going to take me to do the test?” Ethan’s tone was sassy and entirely too teenager-y for Azzi to take seriously, she just laughs.
“Enzo or I will make sure you get to do the test,” she pauses, “but don’t fail because two trips is too many.” Her joke was corny, but Ethan laughed all the same.
Azzi smiled as the boys continued rushing around her. These quiet mornings with her nephews have become a precious part of her routine. It makes her mourn the connections she could’ve built with them earlier in their life. She rushes the thoughts out before they would linger and ruin too much of her day.
“Okay, just a couple of notes, I have a meeting with Enzo later today to go over the new ranch hand, so I might be a bit late getting home. Can y’all make sure to clean the stalls and brush your horses?” Azzi had been a lot more firm in their chores and responsibilities for their personal horses than Eli had been.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam replied politely as he tightened the lid on his thermos.
“Great, and Ethan,” Azzi turned to face the older of the two, he was rinsing his bowl in the sink, “please make sure you grab your key this time.”
Ethan just groans but pats his pocket dramatically to jingle the keys audibly for Azzi’s peace of mind. Azzi had learned the hard way after just a week of staying in the house that Ethan was a bit more absent minded than his younger brother despite being given more responsibilities. Azzi thinks he was struggling with not having a parent around a bit more than Sam was, but tried to act strong through it all. She made sure to offer him the love and support he needed with unconditionality he hadn’t been afforded previously.
Sam walked around with his steaming cup tucked neatly in his hand, he gave Azzi a short side hug that tended to pull at Azzi’s heart strings in ways she hadn’t expected.
“Love y’all, have a great day,” Azzi whispers into Sam’s hair as she pulls him closer, smiling up at Ethan who flushes at her words. Azzi quickly realized it was not something they said a lot previously.
“Love you, Auntie Az,” Sam whispers, sounding so little.
With one final squeeze, Azzi releases Sam to follow his brother out the door and towards the winding path that the bus would meet them at. She stood at the door watching them. It was something her mother did that she despised growing up, but now found herself falling into the same habit. If she didn’t see the two most important people in her life get on the bus daily, she would worry until she inevitably got the attendance notifications sent to her phone nearly an hour past the time.
When the rickety old yellow bus pulled up and she saw her nephews climb into the supervision of Mrs. Annie, Azzi let herself follow them out. She made her way to the old pick up truck that merely groaned at her first attempt in turning it on. She sighs and tries again. The truck rumbles and stutters on as she shifts into gear and lets the breeze reach through the windows and tussle her hair loosely across her forehead.
It had become something of a routine. She would see her nephews off to school and then follow the bus towards the town, before turning off towards her friend, Christen’s, coffee shop. Christen had been her first gay friend and the first of her friends that she ever came out to. They had been friends through everything including the awful transition from middle school to high school, and the early party phase of college.
Christen ended up meeting her wife–Tobin–in college and moved back to their small town to get married and open a coffee shop. It was the first in their small town and an undoubtedly booming business. United Coffee was doing really well, and Azzi had so much pride in her best friend and her wife for starting something that really mattered to them. Something that found its place in the town that Azzi struggled to find her place in.
When she pulled up to the old cottage house style coffee shop with the bright sign in the front yard, she couldn’t help but smile. The coffee shop was exactly what Azzi would expect from the two of them. It was bright, cozy, and eccentric in a way that made all people comfortable rather than leading to the judgement of the individuals in their small town. In the spring time, the two often left the windows open. The smell of coffee grounds and various baking experiments wafted through the air, enticing everyone and encouraging them to stop in.
The bell above the door merely creaks as Azzi pushes the door open and smiles at the immediate feeling of air conditioning against her warm skin. The cool air contrasted well with the smell of freshly made baked goods. This type of environment was something Azzi wanted to emulate in the work she would do. She hasn’t really settled into a career that felt like her own, but she wanted to do something that made people feel the way this place made her feel.
“Az! Hey, you’re just in time. I am getting ready to pull a cinnamon apple twist from the oven. Do you want to try it?” Christen’s bright voice carries through the open space. She was hidden from sight, likely behind the patterned walls that lead to a newly renovated industrial kitchen that she was having too much fun with.
“Of course,” Azzi calls out, grinning. She smiles at Tobin who stands behind the counter with a smile on her face. She leans back against the back counter and smiles in the gap in the wall in the direction of her wife.
“Hey, Tobin,” Azzi stops at the counter, she sits at one of the few barstools that Christen had bought for Azzi to work at when she came in, “is there any way I can get a brown sugar chai?”
Tobin nods and quietly gets to work on the drink that is one of two Azzi rotates through. Azzi sits patiently at the counter as she pulls out her laptop and sets it on the counter. She had far too much paperwork to simply sit while the world continued on around her.
Christen comes flitting through the wall gap with a plate of steaming twisted pastries that have been dusted with a fair amount of cinnamon. Her smile brightens even more than her usual bright demeanor at the sight of Azzi.
“The pre-work rush died down early today and I was able to try out a new recipe, which based on the exhaustion on your face, you could probably use,” she sets the plate town in front of Azzi before turning around and bumping her hip on Tobin’s, silently indicating that she wanted to take over making the drink. Azzi reaches for the plate while the couple quietly communicates in front of her. She takes a bite and is immediately hit by the sweet flavors of cinnamon and flaky sugar that melts in her mouth.
“God, Christen, that is insane,” Azzi mumbles around a mouthful of food, “I swear, when I finally open a business worth a damn, I am hiring you to bake anything for the opening party,” Christen grins at the praise before setting down the chai in front of Azzi.
“Well, like I have always said, when we expand and need a boss lady for our sales department, you are our first pick with a baked signing bonus.”
“That day could be coming any time now,” Tobin’s voice is soft as she smiles again at her wife.
“Well, if you guys could wait until I was relieved from ranch duties, that would be much appreciated,” Azzi jokes.
Christen grimaces at the slight truth and frustration that laced her words and moves to settle on the counter beside Tobin, who just leans into Christen’s space, one hand flat on her thigh. God, Azzi missed her future wife that doesn’t exist yet.
“Y’know we’re more than willing to help with anything you need,” Tobin throws out the offer at the feeling of her wife’s tensing body. She rubs softly at the skin and Azzi looks at her laptop, sighing at the onslaught of emails in response to her rental reminders to the borders.
“It’s all good,” Azzi shrugs, “Enzo actually found a ranch hand that is willing to help me put in the work. I just hope Eli is ready to face the facts when he gets back.”
Christen has seen Azzi struggle to be the sibling to Eli, the manager of the ranch, and the step up aunt that needed to be strong. The weight of everything was something Azzi carried better than most, but it still frustrated those closest to her to see her experience everything alone.
“That’s great and all, but I still feel bad that you’re carrying the weight of everything on your own. When you are done with the ranch, we are setting you up with every gay woman in a hundred-mile radius,” Azzi snorts at her best friend, Christen was curled around her wife and Azzi couldn’t help the bubbling of envy that formed.
Azzi was well past the age that she would’ve hoped to be married and fully settled down. Don’t get her wrong, she had the young experimentation phase in which too many of the lesbian population saw the inside of her home. She even had some more serious relationships, but nothing ever seemed to work out for her. The world always seemed against her in that regard.
Azzi shrugs the thoughts away and returns her attention to the computer, “well we can think about that later. Right now I have to figure out a work plan for a new employee and a way to approach business proposals when Eli gets back.”
Tobin nods along, often the listener when Christen took on the role of doting best friend. Azzi appreciated her calm demeanor. She likes to think that Christen could be saying a lot worse if it weren’t for Tobin. She’ll take that as a win.
Christen opens her mouth, likely to send another promise for help her way when the creaking door swings behind them. Azzi looks over her shoulder and shrugs at the presence of a new group of younger adults who smile at the trio. Christen hops off the counter and heads to the cashier while Tobin steps forward.
“She’s worried about you,” Tobin’s voice was quiet but steady as she grabs the dish towel off her shoulder and rubbed at a spot that Azzi was pretty sure was an age mark on the counter tops.
“I know, and I feel bad that you guys have to. I promise I am okay though,” Azzi reminds and Tobin nods as if this is something she already knows.
“That’s what friends are for,” she says with a shrug before turning towards Christen to grab the paper with the written orders out of her wife’s hands. The two move in tandem with each other, barely needing to acknowledge the other to understand what they needed.
Azzi loved the idea and younger her might’ve even hoped for something like that. In her age and with the things she was dealing with, she had all but accepted that it was possible that was no longer in the cards for her.