I’ve always loved that about animals. They don’t expect you to show up happy or smiling. They don’t care if you’re tired or if you don’t want to talk, or hell, if you want to talktoomuch. They just… exist. And if you’re kind to them, they’ll be kind to you.
I’ve lost track of the number of times Molls has heard my grief over losing Dad. When he first passed, it was all I could do to function. Mom was struggling enough. She didn’t need my struggle too, but going to the barns and sitting with Molls, taking her out for a ride, and letting the cool wind whip off my face? Nothing heals a broken heart quite like it.
I quite enjoy watching my girl heal Theo’s.
I still can’t believe we fell asleep in the barn together. When I woke up, his head was on my lap. I don’t know how we got there, but I’ve hardly been able to stop thinking about it. There’s just something about him that I can’t get over. I guess the animals aren’t the only ones drawn to him.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I slip through the side door. Mom’s not in the kitchen, so I pad down the hall to her room. Pressing my ear against the door, I make out the soft sound of her sniffling, and my stomach tightens.
My mother is one of the best women to grace this earth. She’s the reason I’m the man I am, the keeper of secrets, and the person who scares away the bad dreams. I can’t help but feel guilty that I can’t chase away hers.
Knocking on the door, I steel myself. I hate seeing her cry.
She clears her throat, then yells for me to come in.
“Hey, Hunter. You okay, hun?”
Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, and it makes my throat go tight. “I’m alright. Are you?”
She nods, but her face crumples, and she shakes her head instead.
I’m across the room in a heartbeat, sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling her into a hug. “I’m fine,” she huffs, but she hugs me back.
“What was it?”
She makes a choked noise, something between a sob and a laugh. “I was cleaning under the bed and found this.” Patting around behind her, she grabs something, and I pull away to see what she’s found.
It’s one of Dad’s flannels—his favorite—and when she hands it to me, I notice the small patch of dirt on the sleeve. “It’s dirty,” I say softly.
She nods, eyes welling up again. “He must have worn it in the last couple of days that he was alive.”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “Must have. I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Not your fault, hun,” she says, shaking her head. “Sometimes awful things just happen.”
She’s got that right. “Still.” I blow out a breath, rubbing my thumb over the worn fabric in my hand. “I miss him too.”
Cupping my face, she gives me a sad smile. “I know you do. It’s been hard, huh? But I can’t tell you how thankful I am for you.”
I smile, but it feels weak. “Course. I wasn’t gonna leave ya in a bind.”
She cocks her head. “I’m not talking about the farm, Hunter.”
“Oh.”
I hold out the shirt, and she takes it from me, bringing it to her nose and inhaling as her eyes fall closed. The gesture is so sweet and filled with grief that I almost cry.
“Grief is strange, huh?” she says softly, and I nod, cause ain’t no way in hell I’m gonna be able to talk right now. “Some days, I do just fine. Others?” She pauses, eyes filling with tears. “Well, others, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to live without him.”
I nod because I understand exactly what she means. She shouldn’t have lost him this young. She’s only fifty. Hell,Ishouldn’t have lost him this young. He was a good man. Kind and proud. He never hesitated to offer a helping hand to someone in need. He always showed up for our community and for the people who were less fortunate than us. I learned a lot from him.
“You shouldn’t have to.”
She folds the shirt, carefully placing it on Dad’s pillow before running her palm over it. “No. I shouldn’t, but I am, and all I can do is live a life worth living.”
That’s all any of us can do. “Me too. Gotta give him something to be proud of.”
Whipping her head around to me, she frowns. “Your father was always proud of you. Always, Hunter. Don’t you ever forget that.”
