He set the bowls on the counter, still not looking at me.
"Shame I'm winding down," he said. "Forty years I've been here. Hate to think what happens to this place when I'm gone.All these people, all these animals, and nobody to take care of them."
"Dad."
"Small town. Middle of nowhere. Run-down clinic with equipment older than you are. Not exactly a hot destination for young vets looking to make their mark."
"Dad."
"What?" He turned around, face perfectly innocent. "I'm just talking. Man can't talk in his own kitchen?"
I shook my head, but I was almost smiling.
He set a bowl in front of me, the steam curling up from the chili.
We ate in silence for a while, and it was a good kind of silence. Outside, the sun was going down, painting the fields in gold and pink.
"It's good," I said. "The chili."
"Always is."
"Modest."
"Accurate."
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Dad mopped up the last of his bowl with a piece of bread, pushed back from the table. He was halfway to the sink when he stopped, looking out the window over the yard.
"Someone's coming," he said.
I turned in my chair. Headlights were coming down the gravel drive, moving slow. A car I didn't recognize at first in the fading light… and then I did.
Matt's car.
Dad set his bowl in the sink, calm and unhurried. Then he crossed to the back door and grabbed the shotgun that had been leaning there since I was a kid.
"Dad." My voice came out tight. "What are you doing?"
"Being neighborly." He checked the chamber, the motion so practiced it was almost casual. "Man shows up at my house unannounced, least I can do is greet him proper."
"Dad, put that down."
"He's not welcome here, Elena." He looked at me, and the humor was gone from his face. There was only iron underneath. "Not after what he did to you."
The car had stopped now. I could hear the engine still running, the headlights pointed at the house.
I stood up from the table.
I thought about the last time I'd seen Matt. The way he'd reached for me and I'd told him to step the fuck back. I thought about all those texts I'd ignored, all those voicemails I'd deleted without listening. I thought about driving away from our house and not looking back.
I'd been hiding here. Letting Dad's house be a fortress, allowing the distance to do the work I didn't want to do myself.
But Matt was here now, and I was done hiding.
I was done running.
"Dad," I said.
