Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Until Fi giggles. I lift an eyebrow in silent question. “County fair, sixteen years old.”
I snort so loud I cover my nose with my hand, holding back a guffaw. I mumble through my fingers. “He wanted to impress Kimberly Darfan and entered the talent show.”
“Borrowed his da’s old guitar, he did, and practiced a song for weeks. The day of the fair, he got up onstage, nervous as a cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs. Started playin’, but halfway through, he forgot the lyrics.” Fi’s smile remains but her eyes turn sad and reflective. “Stood there, strummin’ the guitar, and then he just started makin’ up words, singin’ about everything he saw in the crowd. By the end, everyone was laughin’ and cheerin’. The girl he was serenading? She thought it was the funniest and sweetest thing ever. That was our Wade—always turnin’ mishaps into joy.”
We eat cinnamon rolls and share more stories. Tommy comes in to join us for a bit, the kitchen feeling a little warmer, a little brighter. The strain of tragedy looms heavily, but for a beat, we’re able to find comfort in the memories of Wade’s vibrant spirit.
CHAPTER 20
Trey
Two days of avoiding everyone, holing up at my house, and sleeping in Wade’s bedroom hasn’t done much to dull the pain or guilt. It’s like a heavy cloak I can’t shake off. The house feels too quiet, too empty, and every corner holds a memory of Wade. I lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events that led to his death over and over in my mind.
What could I have done differently? Where did I go wrong?
The only conclusion I’ve come up with is that I should have stopped it at the very beginning. I should never have tried to rekindle things with Holland, because I was an idiot to not consider that Wade’s feelings could resurface too. I misjudged everything, only cared about my own desires and got swept away.
But fuck… how could I not? Holland is the one for me. There will be no other and I’m well aware that I’m faced with the same dilemma I had eleven years ago. Where do my wants and needs fit in with the priority of others?
While my parents have reluctantly given me space to process on my own, Ethan’s losing patience. He’s the only one brave enough to force me out of my bubble. Yesterday, he called and left a terse message. “Get your ass to the farm and help unload hay bales. There’s work to be done.”
I knew it was more about giving me something to do than any real need for help. We canceled all lessons until after the funeral, and there are enough employees to take care of the horses. Part of me wanted to ignore him, stay buried in my grief, but in the end, I decided to go in. Maybe some hard work would get my mind off things. Mostly, I hoped it would get my mind off Holland.
I’ve been putting her off, telling her and my family that I need space. The truth is, I can’t bear to look at her. She’s a constant reminder that I turned on my brother for her and it’s conflicting with this deep love I have for her. Deep down, I know it’s not her fault. I’m the one who pursued her, who promised her the world. But I can’t shake the thought that if I’d just left her alone, Wade would still be alive. There’s a specific line of events that led to his death: Holland came home, I went after her, we fell back in love, Wade found out, an argument ensued, and Wade stormed out of the house.
Then he died.
My thoughts are still churning as I pull up to the barn. I see some of the employees unloading hay and take a moment to steel myself for the awkward condolences I know are coming. I grab my work gloves from the passenger seat, shove them on and head inside.
As expected, I’m surrounded by well-meaning folks who work for Blackburn. I accept their kind words, nod in gratitude but gruffly tell them I want to get some work done. The message is clear and they melt away, giving me space.
I focus on the task at hand, joining in to lift the square hay bales, the physical exertion a welcome distraction from the torment in my mind.
Thankfully, it works and for a blessed half hour, I’m able to concentrate only on the task at hand. My muscles burn, sweat soaks my ball cap, and I forget about the horrors of Wade dying.
But then Kat and Abby walk into the barn and reality comes crashing back. A new wave of guilt floods through me because Abby flew in two nights ago, and I haven’t even seen her yet. I’m her big brother and I should be the stronger one, and yet I couldn’t bear to have another sibling look at me with pity.