“You chose Gracie to go on this journey with you, Brax, and then you stole it away from her. And you didn’t even tell her why.”
“Mom…” I whisper.
“I’ve missed my son,” she whispers back. “This last month, I’ve missed him. And I’ve missed Gracie, too. It’s like you were both standing in front of me, but you weren’t really there.”
I lean forward, dropping my forehead to her shoulder, groaning when her hand ends up shoving the ice pack too hard into my face.
“Sorry, not sorry,” she teases. I know she’s trying to lighten the mood, but the heaviness of it all weighs downon me. We sit like this for the longest time, neither of us saying a word. Eventually, she sighs. “I need to fix lunch, and you have another conversation to have.”
“Huh?”
Mom waits until I’ve lifted my head, her eyes solemn as they meet mine. “Your dad’s out in the shed.”
I pushopen the creaky wooden door, stepping into the dust-filled shed with a grimace. The only light comes from a low-hanging bulb, and it’s doing a crappy job, shadows still stretching from each corner. Each wall is covered in shelves, stacked high with Dad’s tools and clutter that he’s collected over the years.
Mom never comes out here. She can’t stand the disorganization and chaos, but Dad insists that everything has its place and he knows exactly where it is.
He’s standing at the workbench, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face as he stares down at a…toaster?
The appliance is lying on its side, and there are several pieces next to it that look suspiciously like they should beinside it. Dad doesn’t look up as I draw closer, staring down at the dissected toaster, the murder weapon—a screwdriver—in his hand.
“Does Mom know you have that?”
He doesn’t look up. “No, and you’re not going to tell her.”
“Alright.” I agree easily, peering over his shoulder. “What are you trying to do with it? Make it hotter? Faster?Broken?”
My humor falls flat, Dad’s mouth barely twitching as he sets the screwdriver down, turning to face me, his brown eyes searching my face. He takes in the bruises, and the only outward sign of his reaction is a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“How are you?”
“You heard?” I ask instead of answering.
“I’m pretty sure Joanie McFarrel heard, son, and she can’t use a cell phone to save her life.”
I let out a low curse, propping my hands on my hips, head hanging low, hating the situation I’ve unwittingly dropped Gracie in. I didn’t treat her as I should’ve, like an equal partner in our relationship. I shut her out when I needed her the most, and then left her wondering what she had done wrong.
“It’s not what it looked like,” I mutter before filling Dad in on everything that happened, watching as his expression darkens further and further with every word.
“My instincts reared up the minute I heard she was coming back,” he grumbles. “I don’t even know what it was, but every time her name came up, my skin started itching like I was having an allergic reaction.”
“It’s not all Paisley, though, is it?” I ask weakly, picking up a metal spring from the workbench and flicking it with my nail. I can feel Dad’s eyes on me, but I don’t look up, shame coursing through me. I don’t want to see the disappointment linger in his gaze, hating even the idea of letting him down.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with Paisley,” he says quietly, “but what she did is a completely separate problem from whatyoudid, Brax. You aren’t responsible for Paisley’s choices, but you are responsible for the lack of loyalty you showed to the woman you profess to love.”
The tension in the room ratchets up another notch, making it hard to suck in air. My heartbeat whooshes in my ears, so loud I almost miss his next words.
“Do you remember the first time you told me you wanted to be a firefighter?” I glance up at his pensive expression, shaking my head mutely. “You were about four or so,” Dad says, holding a hand out by his thigh. “Stillshort enough that I worried you weren’t going to grow into your ears.”
A startled laugh leaves me, even as I reach up to cover one. “Leave off, old man. Your genetics screwed me before I even had a chance.”
Dad cracks a smile. “Every man dreams of having a child follow in their footsteps, and it felt…” He sighs. “It was pretty damn special to have you look up at me with this hero worship in your eyes. Your mother was less than impressed.”
“Not much has changed,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“No, but she’s had a lifetime of worry to fall back on. Mom knows, from firsthand experience, what this job costs—a toll we never stop paying.” He slicks his tongue over his front teeth, eyeing me. “She didn’t want that for you, Brax.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I know all this.”
