He shakes his head, turning toward another customer.
An hour later, I’m collapsing in the corner booth. My legs ache, my tongue feels too heavy, and I can barely keep my eyelids open. The crowd is still going strong, but I’m crumbling.
I smile back at the faces who watch me, pretending to be happy on the outside, but I’m bleeding out on the inside.
Can you see me?The blood is pouring from my open wounds.How are you not noticing?
Russ drops off a glass of water and a flannel. I slip the soft fabric over my bare arms. The shirt smells like The Spillway mixed with Russ’s cologne. It’s comforting, but it’s not leather and vanilla.
Every year, this date haunts me, but being here, in this town, with Jett... It feels like a category five hurricane destroying my foundation, brick by brick.
My eyes burn with unshed tears.
I’ve danced until my legs gave out, my voice has gone dry, and my ghosts are drowned…at least for now.
Tomorrow, I’ll pick up the pieces like I do each year, but right now, I need to close my eyes.
Chapter 17
Jett
Tell my favorite softball player I’m proud of her. A double play AND she hit a triple AND a home run!
Levi
She says thanks.
I don’t think I’ve known Auds to ever say ‘thanks’.
Levi
She says Thanks, Uncle Jett!!!!
That’s better. Does she want to come out and ride this weekend?
Levi
She says OMG YES!
Now that sounds like her.
Levi
You know she has her own phone right?
But I feel weird texting her…she’s a kid.
Levi
She’s your goddaughter
Hell yeah she is! I’ve got the best kid on the planet.
Icloseoutmymessagesapp and the web browser that I was reading Audrey’s game recap from, and set my phone on the coffee table as I prop my feet next to it, shifting the plate in my lap. I groan as I stretch my legs out. My body aches and feels stiff. Hours sitting in the cab of a tractor will do that. We’re in the final week of planting corn—behind schedule, thanks to the rain, but it’s finally done. Half of the crew has been busy cutting hay, baling in round and rectangular bales, and stacking it in our storage shelters. Long days and short nights are the usual.
I flex my feet and feel the stretch in my shins and calves. Reaching for the remote, I scroll through the channels until I land on reruns ofYellowstone. Watching fictional farms is comforting because, thank God, we don’t have the drama these people face. Digging my fork into the garlic mashed potatoes, my phone vibrating interrupts me. Assuming it’s a follow-up text from Levi, I ignore it, but when the vibration doesn’t stop, I lean forward and pick it up.
Russ’s name brightens the screen. He doesn’t call unless it’s important—usually one of my friends is being a punk, or my sister needs a ride home. I swipe the screen and push the speaker button.
