I won’t argue that having a career is important. I’m so proud of the way my sons came together to build McKinley Security Systems into the thriving business it is.
But all the success in the world doesn’t mean shit when you’re staring down all the empty seats at your Thanksgiving table.
Ted knows me well enough that he doesn’t try to stop me when I stalk to the mud room to pull on my boots. Just trails along, watching as I yank my favorite pair of waterproof Hunters over my calves.
When I grab my slicker, he angles a brow. “Are you really going out in this?”
“Yup.” I zip the lined jacket up to my chin and lift the hood into place. “I’ll be back.” I manage a smile. “Don’t eat all the turkey while I’m gone.”
I know he’d come with me if I asked, but this is my mess. I’m the one who turned Deidre Bradshaw into a household name. I’m the one who used family pictures and private moments to sell cookbooks and magazines. I’m the one who made my boys think work should infiltrate your whole life.
Now I’m gonna be the one to make sure it doesn’t end up being all they have.
Whistling between my fingers, I call my partner in crime from where he’s been stationed under the table, waiting for handouts.“Come on, Gunnar. Let’s go for a ride.” I hear my labrador’s nails fighting for traction across the wood floors as he races my way.
At least someone’s excited to spend the day with me.
I give Ted a quick kiss—and a little butt grope—before grabbing the keys to my favorite side-by-side, and ducking out into the cold and rain. Thankfully, twenty years ago when Ted and I built this place, we had enough foresight to situate the house in a way that would make it easy to expand, so there’s now a covered breezeway keeping the bulk of the elements off me as I walk to the detached garage housing the vehicles we use to get around the three-hundred acre property.
Gunner goes straight for the one I prefer, dancing around beside it as he waits for me to catch up. Most of our UTVs are open air, but this one has an enclosed cab. It also has heated seats and an HVAC system, making it perfect for cold, rainy days like today.
After letting Gunnar in on his side, I take my place behind the wheel, opening the overhead door before starting the engine.
Pulling out, I pause, trying to decide where to go first. Each of my sons has built a place of their own on the property, turning it into something of a family compound.
Not that it matters since I clearly didn’t instill the importance of family into them.
Yet.
In the end, I decide to tackle the boys in the order of closeness, so I aim for Tobias’s place first, venturing out into the elements. He’s the middle of my sons, and one of only two who’s ever come close to finding what their father and I share.
Unfortunately, a lack of foresight and immaturity led him to fuck the whole thing up.
Maybe I should’ve stepped in back then. Focused more on teaching at least one of my sons the importance of connection. The importance of companionship.
The importance of love. That it’s worth fighting for. Sacrificing for.
Waiting for.
I sit a little straighter in my seat, gripping the wheel as determination sets in. “It’s not too late.”
I’ve never been afraid of hard work and I’ve never accepted defeat. I’m sure as heck not going to start now. Not when something so important is on the line.
Nothing is going to get in my?—
One of my back tires loses traction, making the UTV slip a little. I ease off the gas, but it seems to continue struggling for grip.
I squint into the mirrors, trying to find the issue. Normally it would be easy to see what’s going on, but the fully-enclosed cab and the rain streaking down the windows block my view of what’s beneath and around me.
Opening the door, I peek out to find what seems to be perfectly passable ground. It’s a little sloppy, but it appears stable enough I shouldn’t be having problems.
I give the UTV a little gas, expecting to easily continue on my way since it looks like I’m beyond the slick spot that tripped me up.
I must hit it harder than I mean to, because the UTV lurches forward, finding enough grip to get moving again. Unfortunately, the process flings a splatter of freezing mud through the gap in the door.
Right into my face.
I sit, eyes squeezed shut, trying to process what in the hell just happened.
