He didn’t answer, so I poked around more, trying not to trip over useless remnants of Dixon’s old life.It was funny, but I thought I could still hear the bleating of the sheep from his childhood.
Finally, there was nowhere left to look but up in the hay loft, so I climbed an old ladder, hoping it wouldn’t disintegrate beneath my feet, and when I got to the top, I found him in a ball on the dusty floor, with a full bottle of cheap whiskey near his head, still sealed.
“Dixon!Are you hurt?”
Rushing to him, I knelt in front of him, looking everywhere for an injury or something to explain why he looked like a memory of himself, coiled up like one of those tiny, empty shells on the beach at the lake.
He was in some kind of trance or meditation, but when he finally noticed me beside him, he sat up and reached for me, his grip on my arms so tight that I winced as he pulled me close and hugged me.
“Thank you,” he whispered.“It hurts so fuckin’ bad, and I don’t think there’s a drug on this planet that can take the pain away.”
“What hurts?”I begged.“Tell me.”
“Stu.He’s perfect and happy and I can’t fuck that up.I-I can’t tell him the truth because what if I do and he turns out like me?I never should’ve come home.I was right to stay away.”He looked around the barn, probably seeing memories of things I could never imagine.His eyes landed on the bottle, and then I heard Noah Lee’s voice coming out of Dixon.“I’m not good enough.I can’t do this.I can’t do this.I can’t—” He stopped and looked at me.“Take me to the bus station?I can go back to Oregon.I can probably get my old job back.It’ll be better for everyone if I’m not here.Better for Stu?—”
Leaning back and balancing on the balls of my feet, I scolded him.“Stop thisright now.”
The stunned expression on his face would’ve been funny if he weren’t in the middle of a panic attack.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I said, “but I needed a way to stop this descent into lies you seem to be determined to drown in.”Smoothing away the surprise from his face with my thumbs, I held him between my hands and spoke softly.“Youaregood enough.You were right to come back, and youcando this.You said you want to be in Stu’s life.You can’t do that if you’re hundreds of miles away in the forest somewhere with no cell signal.That kid needs his dad.Now, I don’t know if it’s better if he knows who you are or not, but hedeservesto know you.
“Just like I do.You are worth knowin’.You are special and loved, and Stuart deserves to hear your stories, and he needs to know that when life gets hard, there are ways through.Youcan teach him that.”
Dixon pulled me close again and touched his lips to mine.“I didn’t drink it.I hid the bottle in here years ago.I just wanted to look at it.There’s some kind of fucked-up curiosity inside me.I just wanted to know if it still had the same hold on me it used to… but I didn’t drink it.”
“I know you didn’t.”
His eyes, so tender and open, searched my face.His hands clutched at my hips, and he held me there, in his broken embrace.“Where have you been all my life?”
“I’ve been here, waitin’ on you to get a clue.”
He laughed then, a deep, booming mouthful of mirth that filled me up like Christmas dinner.
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long, Tweedledee,” he said, and he kissed me.“I won’t ever make you wait again.”
“Miss Avery!”Stu screeched and bounced in his mama’s lap like a Yorkshire terrier when he saw me, walking hand in hand through the grass with his “uncle” across his back yard.But then confusion stopped him.“Did somebody order flowers?”
“Hi, everyone.No, Stu, no one ordered flowers, but your uncle Dixon’s my friend.He invited me.I hope that’s okay?”
“The more the merrier,” Sheriff Abey said, smiling at me across the big, cedar outdoor table.
“Thanks.”
Dixon’s mama, on the other hand, looked concerned that I’d shown up and maybe a little annoyed, but I didn’t think she’d dare say anything.We knew each other from my friendship with her son and from my shop, but we certainly weren’t besties.
No one else mentioned my sudden appearance, and Bax seemed fine with it.“You like your burger still mooin’ or charred?”he asked.
“Slightly charred, please.Thank you.”
He nodded and got to work loading up a plate with a burger, potato salad, and half an ear of corn on the cob he’d grilled.When he handed it to me, he said, “I’ll have you know that beef was raised right here on Spitfire Ranch.It’s the best burger you’ll ever eat.”
Dixon’s other brother, Brand, laughed.“Humility, Bax.We’ve talked about this.”
“What?”Bax said with his hands on his hips.His black apron, which said “Stand back.Good-lookin’ is cookin’” bunched up when he shrugged.“I’m not sayin’ anything that ain’t true.”And then he grabbed another full plate and handed it to Dixon.
Dixon passed the mustard to me but not the ketchup, and he smirked when he noticed my surprise that he’d remembered how much I’d always hated the slimy, red gloop.
“I haven’t forgotten anything, AJ.Things might’ve been muddy and hard to see for a while, but everything’s clearin’ up now.”
