“Your brother is an adult,” I reply cautiously. “Who can make his own decisions.”
“True. And right now, he’s making reckless ones.” Her gaze sharpens. “You getting married may have solved a financialproblem, but it didn’t erase the rest of them. The farm doesn’t run itself. We can’t carry this farm without him.”
I still. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s distracted, Chloe. He’s bending over backward to make sure you feel safe and wanted. And while I can understand why,” her jaw tightens, “important things are slipping. Things that keep this place running.”
My stomach drops. “Evelyn, I didn’t realize he was neglecting the farm.”
I know he’s been pulled thinner than usual, with Phoebe being sick and my family visiting, but Evelyn makes it sound bigger.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she says quietly. “You’re building a life here, Chloe. And he’s letting himself believe he can have it all.” She exhales sharply. “I’m not saying this isn’t real. I’m saying real things still have consequences.”
Her words land, no matter how badly I wish they didn’t, because they echo the fears I’ve worked so hard to quiet.
“How bad is it?” I ask.
“It isn’t,” she admits. “Not yet. But if he keeps pretending there aren’t limits, it will be.”
Pretending.
She used that word as a barb, and if I didn’t know where we stood with each other, it might sting more.
I don’t believe our connection is fake, not for a second, but that’s exactly the problem. Feelings don’t care about timing or seasons. Or responsibility.
“I’ll check in with him,” I start.
“You should understand something first,” she says softly. “When the numbers didn’t work, you were the solution everyone could live with.” She meets my eyes. “This farm has taken first place in his life for a very long time. Love doesn’t change that overnight.”
Heat floods my chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do. Owen encouraged the marriage. He thought it would buy us more time.”
The floor feels less solid beneath my feet.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she says, voice tight. “I’m trying to make sure we don’t lose him.”
She turns and leaves, the back door slamming shut behind her. I stay where I am, knuckles white against the counter, until the ache in my hands reminds me to breathe.
Evelyn didn’t call me a mistake. She called me a solution. I hate how familiar that role feels. But especially how easily I slip into it, and how relieved everyone sounds when I do.
I don’t want Aiden to feel like he has to rank the people in his life. I don’t want to get between him and this place.
But if love doesn’t require me—if it exists even when I stop proving my worth—why does doing nothing feel so dangerous?
forty-three
AIDEN
If grief is a mountain,Dad’s Santa suit is the summit.
I thought I knew what I was offering when I told Chloe I would do this, but I think I oversold my confidence.
It doesn’t look a day older than it did the day Dad took it off for the last time, not knowing it was the last time. Physically, it’s a heavy costume. It was his pride and joy, and he ordered it custom-made.
But emotionally, it’s heavier than I imagined.
When I lift the jacket from the garment bag, I’m hit with a cloud of scents from the past. It’s a heady mix of scents that hits me right in the chest, like he could walk in the room at any given moment. There are notes of clove, nutmeg, and vanilla from all the cookies he stole from the kitchen. Hints of pine from the farm, and a scent I can’t explain that simply smells like him.
