I nod as he studies me for long enough that I have to look away. I hate how he can read me like a manual. Shame crawls up my chest as I stare at the wrench I threw. I hate when my anger gets the best of me. I’m tired of feeling guilty and angry. But they seem to be the only emotions my body produces. When was the last time I felt anything else?
“Your dad used to come out here and do the same shit,” Grandpa says. “He’d work his temper out on anything he could find. Damn near broke more machines than he fixed.”
“At least he was here.” My jaw clenches as my words land hard.
“You’re angry with him.” Grandpa’s words are sharp, not questioning.
I bark out a humorless laugh. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?”
Silence stretches. The sound of cows mooing in the distance drifts through the breeze. I hear Grandpa shuffling on his stool. There’s so much left unfinished between my dad and me, and I’ll never have the chance to hash it out with him. A part of me resents the decision he made in shipping me off to basic training the night I screwed up. He made me leave without seeing Wren and explaining myself.
“You think he left you with too much.”
“Amongst other things.” I turn, meeting his eyes, and for once, I don’t mask the betrayal. “He took everything from me, then left me with all this shit. All these damn responsibilities with no direction.”
“It’s not like he chose to leave us.”
“I’m aware,” I snap, my hands resting on my hips. “And I know it’s my fault.”
“Jett—” Grandpa’s eyes soften, but I don’t give him a chance to continue.
“I was the punk-ass kid who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the farm. I was too busy raising hell and chasing Wren…” I grind my teeth, willing my emotions to stay at bay. “I should’ve been learning from him. Not rebelling. I should’ve paid more attention to the workings of this farm outside of my normal chores. If I had put in a little more effort, he would still be here.”
My chest heaves at the admission I’ve carried around with me since I received the call about Dad’s accident. He was working long hours, rushing to get the seeds planted before the rain we were supposed to get. If I had been home, I would’ve been here to help.
“Regret’s a bitch, Jett. It’ll eat you alive if you let it.”
“Everything’s eating me alive, what’s one more fucking thing?”
He rubs his hand down his weathered face, sighing. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever screwed up with the people you love? You’re not the first, and you’re damn sure not the last. When your grandma and I were younger than you, I walked away.”
My head whips back in his direction, but he’s looking straight ahead through one of the open bays toward Grandma’s flower garden.
“Thought the weight of the farm and being a dad was too much. I packed a bag and left her alone with two kids. I thought I’d find myself out there. Talk about a load of shit.”
As I listen to the man I’ve always admired admit to leaving his family, my mouth hangs agape.
“Close your mouth, boy, you’ll catch flies.”
I do as I’m told, reaching into my back pocket for a rag. I wipe my hands, needing something to do as I listen.
Shame flickers across his features, and I hate that he’s sitting here telling me all of this. “Didn’t last long. I came back with my tail between my legs. Your grandma could have slammed the door in my face, told me to leave, and she didn’t need me to help raise our kids or take care of this farm. Hell, she had my brother’s help; she didn’t need me. But that’s not how she works. No, Lydia is an understanding woman. She listened to me beg to come home, apologize for being a dumbass, and then consoled me when I admitted my faults and fears. Our issues weren’t solved overnight, but with time, trust, and honesty, we made our house a home again.”
Silence falls as “Against the Wind” plays from the speaker, and I process his words.
“Point is, Jett, you’re human. You’re going to make mistakes, carry guilt, but don’t let it define you. You’ve got to find a way to forgive yourself. Once you do, Wren’ll forgive you too.”
I shake my head, my dry throat. The memory of Rafe flashes through my mind. His unrestrained and bubbly laugh and the weight I felt as he slipped away. Wren’s whiskey eyes replace Rafe’s, wet with unshed tears as she fought against me.
“How the hell do I forgive myself? Isn’t it too late?”
The stool creaks as Grandpa shifts from side to side. “It’s never too late. You forgive yourself one piece at a time. Your past is your past, and it can’t be rewritten, but you can stop letting it write your future.”
Fuck. Those words hit me deep.
Grandpa walks toward the wrench I threw. He bends to pick it up before bringing it back. His hand stretches out, and I take the wrench, while his other hand claps me on the shoulder.
“Get the girl, Jett. Bring our Wren home.”
