Heat floods my entire body as my muscles tighten, and I step closer to him. “Fuck you.”
Tia quickly looks up from the fencing insulators and screws in her hands and glances between me and Ashton with wide eyes.
Ashton chuckles, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “It’s fine, Tia. He’s just a hothead.” He shrugs. “We’re just picking up fencing supplies for my aunt’s horses. This doesn’t have to turn into a problem, Silas.”
My body feels like it’s vibrating as I stare back at him and try not to completely lose it. I pull a breath in and drop my eyes to the supplies in Tia’s hands. “Then you might want to get the right screws.”
I step past Ashton as he glances down at the screws they picked out, bumping his shoulder hard with mine as I leave. They can figure it out on their own that they’ll strip the second the post shifts.
“So, these aren’t the right ones?” I hear Tia ask Ashton, and I vaguely hear him mumble something as I head for the front counter.
When I reach it, Kevin already has the humidity gauges ready for me.
“Get that truck running again yet?” he asks as he scans the clamps and fittings.
I shake my head as the shame I’m already feeling twists into something more. I haven’t touched my old truck in a long time. If I’d fixed the transmission, I could have kept it going. But I didn’t. At the time, it didn’t seem worth it. And now, it sits next to my cabin in the same state it was when I found it at this store, when Kevin sold it to me.
“It might be broken forever,” I say, gathering everything up from the counter.
Kevin lets out a breath of laughter. “With you, I highly doubt that.” He jerks his chin towards the load in my arms. “It’s on the farm’s tab.”
“Thanks,” I say, giving him a nod and turning to leave.
I catch sight of Ashton and Tia, still in the same spot, looking like they’re in an argument over a pack of screws, and quickly head outside and into my truck.
But as I start it up, I pause, staring at the gleaming, high-end SUV parked across from me. I know who that belongs to.
And I hate that I have to fight the urge to walk over there and smash the windows in.
I close my eyes and blow out a breath as I grip the steering wheel tight. Then I open my eyes, put the truck in drive, and leave.
The sun dips below the horizon as I drive along the field-lined road towards home, and the wide sky is streaked with clouds that look like they’re catching fire as they reflect the remaining orange rays from the sun. Light fades to dark indigo, where stars begin to flicker to life, and I watch as they slowly appear.
When I pull into Dad’s driveway and park next to his truck, I slowly get out and let my gaze roam over the farm.It’s quiet now that everyone has gone home. The soft light remaining in the sky creates long shadows across the lot, and I trace each one with my eyes.
The farm looks almost the same as it always has, ever since I can remember. The garage on the far end of the farm still has the same patch on the roof that’s a slightly different colour, and the office door across from the storage shed has never been painted, even though it’s a weird bright green that doesn’t match anything else out here. But the quirks on this farm have never changed… and I don’t want them to.
I don’t want anything to change. And I don’t know why that’s such a bad thing. I don’t know why everything and everyone has to move, grow, expand, do more…allthe time. And I don’t know why it’s seen as a failure not to do those things.
I bite the inside of my cheek as a sudden swell of emotion rises and tears sting the back of my eyes.
But everyone has always wanted me to change. And when I don’t…
I squeeze my eyes shut and force that thought back down before it gets any louder. When I open them, I stare at the green door again and try to let its consistent presence bring me some comfort. It will always be here… this farm will always be here. Just as it is. My home, and my safe space.
With a deep breath, I head up the stairs and through the back door, the smell of supper greeting me the second I step inside.
Mama smiles when I step into the kitchen, setting a bowl of roasted potatoes in the middle of the table. “Just in time.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, glancing at the table that’s already set. “Took longer than I thought.”
“Get everything?” Dad asks, handing me a beer.
I nod, twist the cap off, and take a drink.
“Well then, let’s eat,” Papa says, pulling a chair out for Mama. “Looks delicious, love.”
“Thank you,” Mama says as she slides into her seat, and we all do the same.
