He shook his head. “Nah, but I didn’t expect you to stick. With Vincent. You’ve got roots now. You’re a father. Dad would have loved to see it. But I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”
My gut sank. “I get that, but it doesn’t feel right to lawyer up and fight. Life is short. We have no idea how much time we have. I’d much rather take advantage of every minute I get with Vincent than fight with his mom.”
“But he’s your child.”
“Yes. And Evie is his mother. He’s an infant and she’s nursing.”
“We could make space for him here. I could convert Jess’s old room into a nursery.”
Josh and his desire for more projects. He was sincere, his voice strained, the deep desire to help bubbling up inside him. One day, maybe he’d realize that burying himself in work was not healing him.
“Thank you,” I said calmly. “But his home is Evie’s house. And I’m content to be there.”
“But you’re not really there, are you? You’re sleeping in a tent. You’re on the outside, dropping in when you’re allowed.”
How could I explain it? How I felt when I was with Evie and Vincent. It felt right. My life was complete. It was instinctual, the knowledge that it was where I needed to be. And I’d gotten there by being patient. Sleeping in a tent, demonstrating my commitment day in and day out.
Maybe my reasoning wouldn’t pass Josh’s standards for logic, but I just knew it in my bones.
“I’m in love with her,” I said.
He staggered back a step, his jaw dropping. Then he did the most un-Josh-like thing ever. He dragged himself over to a hay bale and sat.
Wayne, his massive dog, circled once, then again, before curling up on the dirt floor. He was Josh’s constant companion, seeming to read his moods and share his preference for silence and hard work. Typically, he remained at Josh’s side, though he’d run off to chase squirrels every once in a while.
“I guess hell froze over,” he croaked
I laughed to defuse some of the tension that had built between us.
“Nah.” I shrugged. “They changed me. Vincent and Evie.”
“I can see it.”
“I used to think that love was adrenaline,” I told him. “Now I know it’s the quiet things. Changing diapers at two in the morning, bringing her coffee, fixing a window because it sticks. Things that I thought were boring before now fuel me, they motivate me to do better and be better.”
My words hung in the air. This was one of the qualities I admired about Josh. He never tried to fill the silence.
“She’s perfectly capable on her own,” I admitted. “But she wants me around. Beneath her careful control, she’s full of warmth and wit. And she has a heart that’s braver than she knows. Being with her feels like being home.”
Josh scratched at his thick beard. “Shit. You sound like Dad when he talked about Mom.”
I dipped my chin. “That’s how I know it’s real.”
He stood up, and Wayne and I followed. Apparently the break was over. Time to head back to the sugarbush. As we walked, I rambled about Evie and Vincent. Josh let me. Getting all my thoughts out was a relief. And it made this new normal I’d found feel more real. We could be a family. We could be together. It was possible.
We fixed several dozen lines and had to get the chainsaw out to deal with a dead tree all before lunch. Once that was finished, Josh opened a cooler and handed me a sandwich. Then the two of us sat under the canopy of green leaves, enjoying the rare breeze.
“There’s still time for you too,” I said.
He hated the topic, but all the honesty lately had gotten me a bit addicted. It was freeing to talk things out, to own my feelings. With any luck, I could teach my brother a thing or two. He was the reigning champion of the repression Olympics.
“Nah.” He huffed. “I’m good. Had my shot. Didn’t work out. Decided the farm was a safer bet for me.”
He went back to eating his turkey sandwich, as though his answer was even remotely acceptable.
“Dude, you’re thirty-five not ninety-five. You’re smart and successful. And a lot of women dig the beard, flannel, and grunting thing.”
He glared at me. “Not so simple.”
