Oh no.
I came to a farm Down Under to get over a broken heart, but it was now I realised I had a far bigger problem. I didn’t fall for Alex. He was just always there and I let him, but Troy… This country, this man, they were the first things I’d really chosen for myself and I didn’t know how to say goodbye to that.
Much later that night, the muffled sounds of the front door opening, of heavy footfalls coming down the hallway had my eyes flicking open. All the exhaustion of the day was wiped away as I heard them come to a stop outside my door. He could’ve been about to walk into his own bedroom. That was the most plausible explanation. On some level, it was the one I wanted, because of the way Troy snapped at me before. It was the sigh, not a very loud one, that had me padding over to the door and opening it, just in time to see him turning away.
“Troy…”
He froze at my voice and then went to face me. The man was a mess. Dirt covered every inch of him, the deep furrows in his face made clear what kind of night he’d had.
“Fuck…” He sounded almost drunk from exhaustion. “Sorry, Mackenzie, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
I nodded slowly.
“It’s OK.”
“It’s not.” Hands slid down his face. “Fuck, it’s not. None of it’s OK.”
Troy’s voice was hoarse, ragged and then way his fingers raked at his cheeks had me wanting to step in and stop him from hurting himself. But it wouldn’t have mattered. What was going on inside him, it would keep tearing him into a million pieces, even if I gripped his hands tightly.
“I fucked up.” That was a confession that came from the depths of his soul. “The fire, the plan, the feed…” When his hands dropped, I studied his expression, catching every little bit of pain there. “You.” A slow shake of his head. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“You shouldn’t have,” I replied in a carefully neutral tone.
“I came up with a plan to keep everyone safe, but…” That smile was a horrible thing, full of self-loathing. “Granddad always said no plan survives contact with the enemy.” Bloodshot eyes met mine. “Or Nugget.”
My lips twitched, but I didn’t want to smile, not yet. There was a temptation there, to let Troy off the hook. The state of him clawed at me, but there was something I learned in therapy. After listening to my self recriminations for weeks, the therapist made clear Alex wasn’t my problem to fix.
No man was.
“You were scared that something had happened to us,” I said, and he nodded swiftly. “And the only emotion men seem to be allowed to feel is anger.” His brows creased and then tension in his face was something I could almost feel tangibly, right before he nodded again. “So you snapped at everyone, because you care.”
“Mackenzie…”
He was about to surge forward, take me in his arms, but it wasn’t just the dirt and grime that had my hand shooting out, keeping him from getting any closer. For just a moment, all I could feel was the prickle of hay and the soft cotton of his shirt, but this had to happen.
“An apology needs two things for it to be sincere,” I said, staring at his chest, because otherwise I’d never get this out. “Maybe three.” A little snort escaped me. “Remorse.”
“Trust me,” he rasped, “I’ve got that in spades. Mackenzie?—”
“A willingness to make amends,” I continued.
“Breakfast in bed,” he promised. “A stack of pancakes ten feet tall and a king’s ransom in maple syrup. No early morning cattle feeds ever.”
My eyes flicked up and I met his gaze steadily.
“And real change to ensure that the same shit doesn’t keep on happening over and over,” I replied.
Alex must’ve kept half the florists in our town in business with all the bouquets he brought me. Never just to make me feel special. Instead my muscles locked down tight, my breath becoming shallow, each time I heard the crackle of cellophane, because there he’d be. A picture of contrition, he’d say all the right things, then give me chocolates or flowers or both, and for a time, things would be so much better. He’d work to repair the damage he’d done to our relationship.
Only to go and destroy the trust and goodwill he’d built up.
“Everyone knows you’re stressed, Troy.” My voice was cracking now. “We can all see how hard you’re working.” The pressure on my palm eased off as he pulled back slightly. “That the farm wouldn’t run without you, but…” This felt like kicking a man when he was down, but if not now, when? “If the price you have to pay, everyone has to pay, for your competence is to be subjected to your foul mood, then…” The smile finally came, a tiny, fragile thing. “That’s too much.”
He just nodded at first, over and over, then fell back like a man reeling from a gut punch. I was doing the right thing, wasn’t I? This was exactly what my therapist had prepared me for, so why didn’t it feel a whole lot better? Why did a pang of guilt hit me hard, wanting, needing me to claw everything I said back, to pretend I’d never said a thing?
“Got it. I’ve need to…”
He stumbled over to the bathroom and some part of me wanted to follow. To ensure he didn’t fall over and crack his head open for one, but it was more than that. Troy was in painand the need to soothe him was instinctive, but you can’t help someone over a hurt you caused.
