“Would your family ever think about selling?”
He pulls the bottle away from his lips on a laugh and looks at me, and it’s not happy humor I see on his face.
“I’m sorry if that’s a stupid question.”
He shakes his head and picks a fleck of mud off his jeans. “No, it’s not stupid. Not in any normal sense. But this farm has been passed down from oldest son to oldest son ever since our ancestors moved here from Sweden in 1851. Jonas and I were raised knowing we had to protect the family legacy. We have adutyto protect it.”
“Is it true that all your names are Swedish?”
“Yep. The whole family’s: Dad’s sister Agata, my grandfather Erik, his father, Aan. I could go on.”
I turn around and look up at the red-and-white farmhouse. “Did your ancestors build this house?”
“And the barn,” he confirms, jerking his chin toward it. “They’re replicas of the farmstead back in Sweden.”
“Didyouever want to farm?”
“It’s not what I’m passionate about, but I’d step up if I had to.”
“Really? You’d quit your job?”
He nods.
“You’re a mechanic for an IndyCar team, right?”
“No, a race engineer.”
“Oh! What does that involve?”
“I’m like the interpreter between the driver and the mechanics.” He glances at me to gauge my interest before continuing. “The driver will give me feedback about how the car feels and I analyze all the technical data and work out what we need to do to make sure the car is set up for maximum performance. I relay this to the mechanics and they instigate the changes.”
“Wow, that sounds like a really important job. Do you enjoy it?”
“I love it.”
“Yet you’d give it up?” I press, struggling to understand.
“If something happened to Jonas, yes.” He sighs. “I feel like I should be home right now anyway.”
“You can’t quit your dream job,” I say gently.
He turns to look at me and his expression is so stark, it tears at my heart. “My family is falling apart, Wren. My dad shouldn’t be working at his age, Ma’s blood pressure is sky-high. Already was—God knows what this is doing to her—and my brother is...” He shakes his head desolately and I’mthat closeto reaching out and putting my arm around his shoulders to console him when my phone begins to buzz in my pocket.
I pull it out and curse under my breath at the sight of Bailey’s name in the caller ID.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to Anders before answering. “I’m coming, I’m sorry!” I tell Bailey before she can demand to know where I am. “I’ll be there in five!”
“Meet you at Wetherill.”
“Okay. Sorry!” I apologize again, ending the call and looking at Anders. “I really hate to go, but I’m late for my sister. I was supposed to be meeting her on the bridge.”
He nods, tilting his bottle to his lips.
“Want to come to Dirk’s with us?” I ask on a whim, slightly mesmerized by the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he drains his beer. I blink up to his face. “Get out of the house for a bit?”
“I think I’d better hunt down my brother.”
“Not on your motorbike, I hope.” I stare pointedly at his empty bottle as he sets it aside.
