Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Was Wade telling me to honor his memory by letting go of Holland, or was he calling me an idiot for not fighting for her? And really, does it even matter? It was a stupid dream, only a figment of my tortured mind.
But what’s done is done, even if I’m starting to think I’ve made a horrible decision.
The days that have passed since my brother’s funeral have not gotten any easier. The forgiveness of my sins that I expected to come from my penance never materialized. I’m still just as hard on myself about what happened to Wade, and even worse, I think my guilt was misplaced. The thing burdening me the most these days is the hurt I caused Holland.
I lie in bed a long time, not wanting to get up. I’ve been sleeping like shit, and I feel it in my bones. At least I’ve stopped sleeping in Wade’s room, trying to hang on to some connection. I even managed yesterday to go through his clothes, pulling out anything I wanted to keep and boxing the rest for donation.
Eventually, when the sunlight starts streaming in my windows, I know it’s time to get going. With a sigh, I roll out of bed.
I received a missive from my mom last night that she expected me to attend a family breakfast at eight a.m. I’m not sure how I feel about that, given I’ve done a damn good job of avoiding my family since the funeral. Besides, I’m still mad at them because they knew Holland was leaving and no one bothered to tell me. I get I ended things, but I had the right to say goodbye to her the way the others did.
I considered boycotting to continue to voice my displeasure at being kept in the dark, but ultimately, I know my dad will come looking for me and I don’t want to tangle with him. He’s about reached his limit with me, and I get it. He’s lost a son and probably has more reason to be mired in a funk than I do.
By the time I reach the farm, the sun is casting its light over the fields, painting the landscape with a soft golden hue. Normally, mornings on the farm bring a sense of peace, a promise of a new day, but not today. Today, everything feels heavy, muted, as if the world is still mourning with us. I wonder how long that will last. Or maybe this is the new normal.
I pull into the driveway, the familiar sight of the farmhouse bringing a lump to my throat. Wade should be here. He should be inside waiting to make sarcastic comments about my hair being a mess or how my snoring kept him up last night.
But he’s not. The thought still feels unreal because I just can’t accept it. It’s a bad dream I can’t wake up from.
I inhale deeply and step out of the truck, making my way to the house. It feels as if I’m walking through mud.
In the kitchen, everyone has gathered around the table. Mom is at the stove, flipping pancakes. Normally it would be Miranda cooking breakfast, but I know my mom needs something to do. She needs to be a mom now more than ever. Dad’s sitting at the head of the table, staring at his coffee cup as if it holds all the answers. Ethan is next to him, looking tired but trying to keep up a facade of normalcy as he chats with Sylvie. Kat is sitting across from Ethan, also looking tired, but when her eyes meet mine, they sharpen with frostiness. I don’t think she’s going to forgive me for letting Holland go.
“Morning,” I mutter, moving to my mom and kissing her cheek. Her palm comes to the side of my head to hold me there briefly before she releases me. I grab a cup of coffee and lean against the counter.
The usual lively chatter is absent. Instead, the only sounds are the clinking of utensils and the occasional sigh. It’s like we’re all walking on eggshells, afraid that any sudden movement might shatter us completely.
Ethan clears his throat, breaking the silence. “We need to talk about the upcoming week. There’s a lot to do on the farm, and we can’t afford to fall behind.”
Dad nods but doesn’t voice his opinion. When he turned the business over to Ethan, he let go completely.
“Lessons start back up this week.” Ethan looks to me, then Kat. His voice is hoarse. “I’ve reassigned Wade’s lessons between the two of you and I’ll take some as well until we can hire a replacement instructor. Dad’s going to take some too.”
That’s a knife to the chest. Wade’s being replaced by another instructor.
“You need to remember, some of these kids are going to be pretty broken up about Wade, so we need to be extra sensitive.”