Page 61 of When We Were Younger

"You. Why haven't you retired? Why haven't you stepped back? Even gone part-time? Loosened your grip on the reins a little bit? I mean, fuck, Dad. I'm ready. I've been ready. I've been working for you since I was old enough to drive a forklift. Before that even, if you count all the time I spent on sights with you growing up. I've followed all the steps. I worked with you as a teen. I went to college. I know the trade. I learned the business. I even expanded on what you began by studying urban planning and helping to shift the company to more sustainable methods and environmentally-friendly projects. Everyone knows I'm supposed to take over. Even Keith and Jay McKenna mentioned it a few nights ago. I don't get why you don't see it. I did everything fucking right. So, what is it? Why haven't you evenmentionedhanding the company over?"

My chest heaves as all the resentment I've pushed down for years starts to bubble to the surface. I hold my Dad's gaze, refusing to waver as his eyes darken towards me.

"You really think I don't see it, son? You think I don't know you? Stephen, sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself," Dad says stilly.

"What do you-" I start, but Dad holds up a hand, cutting me off.

"Let me ask you a question. Why do you want the company so bad?"

I…

Fuck. I wasn't expecting that question.

"I want you to be able to retire. I want you to have more time with Mom, to enjoy your granddaughter and your hobbies. You've worked hard all your life, given us everything, and I want to be able to give you the relaxing life you deserve," I say, and it's true. Dad's retirement has always been my goal. I've watched him work himself to the bone for his family for my entire life. He deserves it.

"Right," Dad says, nodding and sticking his tongue into his cheek, dramatically showing off how deeply he's pretending to think about my response. He taps his foot.

"And when you were eighteen and Dottie Lynn ran away, why didn't you go after her?"

The question stuns me like a slap to the face. Neither of my parents ever asked me that, not even once.

"I…" I sputter, tripping over my thoughts. "She left before graduation."

As if that's an answer. Dad must agree, because he rolls his eyes.

"That's not the right answer, and you know it. Obviously, your mother and I would have made you finish school, but use your imagination, would you? You could have called Dottie. You could have asked Kira about her. You could have walked at graduation and then got right into your truck and searched for her. Youloved that girl. She was your entire life. There are barely any photos of you after the age of seven where little Dottie Lynn Hart isn't glued to your side. But you didn't go after her. You didn't even try. I'm asking you why not."

My eyes sting with unshed tears. My bottom lip trembles, and I try to hold it together. Not for my dad's sake. Gruff, southern man that he is, he never instilled in me that men don't cry. Quite the opposite, in fact. I just fear that if I let the tears start to flow, they won't stop.

"I wanted her to be happy. That's all I wanted. If she was gone, she was happy, and that's what mattered. Even if I was miserable," I whisper, shrugging a shoulder.

"And you want me to retire and hand over the company to you because you want me to be happy, right? That's why you've worked alongside me all these years, building strip malls and balancing my budgets. You don't love Hudson Family Construction. You're not passionate about it, but you'd take it over for me. Just like you stayed here in Fox Hole. You let Dottie go for her, not for you," Dad puts a hand on each of my shoulders, and my resolve breaks. With a broken sob, my tears start to fall.

"Dad, you've given your entire life to our family. I just want to help. I want to give you the break you've earned," I choke out between cries.

"Stephen, I'm the dad. Giving my life for my family is literally my job. And I don't know where you got thisidea that I'm going to be working until I'm in the grave. Retirement might take me some time, but your mother and I have planned for our future for a good, long while. We're going to be okay, so put that out of your mind right now. Forget about me for a second. Forget about the company, about your mother, your sister, about this town. What will make you happy, Stephen? Not anyone else. What would make you happy, no matter how selfish you might think it is?" Dad asks. I look up to him, and he grips my shoulders a little harder.

"I want to be with Dorothea," I answer softly. "Wherever she is. Wherever she wants to go. She's my everything. My whole heart. All I want is to be with her, to do life with her. That's all I want. All I want to be when I grow up is her man."

"Then why the hell have you been moping around here all morning instead of chasing after her?" he asks.

"How did you even know she left?"

"Please, that girl is flightier than a startled alley cat. I knew her feet started itching when your mom got wine drunk and started crying last night about the past."

I snort, and Dad pats my shoulders before letting go.

"I want to go after her. I do. Part of me really believes she might even want me to but… what if she doesn't? What if I run after her and she doesn't want me?" I ask, my stomach flipping at the possibility. Dad shrugs.

"It'll hurt like a son of a bitch, there's no denying it. But you've survived without her until now. If I'm wrongabout that girl–and I really don't think I am–but if I'm wrong, you'll survive without her again."

I nod, absentmindedly. Dad steps away from the door, and I realize it's time for me to go. The only thing is…

"I have no idea where she went. I mean, I'm assuming she's headed back to Los Angeles, but I don't know her address or anything," I say, and Dad chuckles as he reaches for the doorknob and swings it open.

"You and I both know where to get the information you need, Stephen. Now go. Don't waste any more time." He gives me a nudge out the door, and when I step into the cool morning air, I take a second to breathe it in and steady myself.

I get in my truck, and I drive up McKenna Mountain, heading for the one person who can help make things different this time.

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