“It took me until after her death to realize that she was sick long before the cancer. I mean the drink and her anger,” she says, voice small.
“You did everything you could,” I try to reassure her, but it feels like my words fall short. Nothing I say can mend that hole in her heart.
“To Momma, being born as my daddy’s daughter was my gravest sin. Having his eyes. His smile. His love for music. My existence was a constant reminder of the man who broke her.”
“None of that was your fault.”
She gives a fragile smile. “No, it wasn’t. But I also can’t blame her for hurtin’.”
I exhale a heavy breath. “You can’t help somebody who doesn’t wanna be helped.”
“You always know what to say. You’ve always been likethat. Do you still remember what happened at our first gig in that horrible dive bar off the highway in Lexington?”
I nod. “You were so nervous you forgot the lyrics and my hands shook so hard I couldn’t get a single chord right. They booed us off the stage.”
“I sobbed until I hyperventilated. But you bought me ice cream and said we gotta fail before we can get better. You cracked stupid jokes until I finally laughed.”
An inward gasp catches in my throat. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”
“I remember every time you were my rock and I’ll remember today, too. Thank you for letting me vent. Comin’ home has dredged some shit up, but it feels good to finally talk about it.”
I tap my chest. “Being raised on a ranch means I’m an expert at shoveling shit.”
“Speaking of the ranch, where are your folks? Did they move elsewhere to enjoy their retirement?”
An involuntary, miserable noise leaves me. Its echo spreads like ice through my bones, numbing me.
Tally stiffens. “What’s wrong?”
I consider sugar-coating things with nice euphemisms and gentle metaphors, but she deserves the truth. My parents were practically her family, too.
“One night, Dad didn’t come in for supper after mucking the stable. I found him face first in the hay. Heart attack.”
Her eyes turn glassy. “Oh fuck.”
“And Mama…” I grit my teeth, swallowing the grief threatening to take away my voice. “The doctors called it early onset dementia, but I reckon she couldn’t handle life without him.”
“Rust, I—” A sob cuts her off.
“After Dad was gone, I sold the animalsto focus on caring for Mama. I couldn’t work and burned through our family’s savings, but it was worth it to be there for her. She went downhill fast. In the end, she didn’t even remember who I was. She kept calling me by Dad’s name.”
Tally flies against my chest, embracing me. “I’m sorry you had to carry all that pain alone.”
The warmth of her soft body melts the frost inside me, pouring life into my veins. I press my nose into her soft curls, inhaling her sweet perfume as my hands wander over her back.
“It’s alright, Trouble. I did what I had to. I took care of Mama and that’s what matters.”
She glances up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “You always take care of everybody, Big Guy. But who takes care of you?”
It’s a simple question, yet suddenly, I’m breathless. God, I need her to stop looking at me like that—not with judgment, but with understanding like she sees right past the smirks and the jokes.
I force a smile. “Come now. I’m a grown man. I don’t need nobody taking care of me.”
Tally huffs and I know she doesn’t buy it. I’ve had similar discussions with Caleb, but he never pushes me when I put up my defenses. No such luck with her.
Her voice comes out rough. “It’s not right! I should’ve been there for you and for them. Fuck, I’m so damn sorry I wasn’t here!”
My ribs tighten. I can’t let her feel guilty for living her life.
