Page 81 of Sometimes You Stay

His dad nodded slowly. “That sounds about right.”

Finn’s head spun, and his pulse thundered in his ears.

So his dadhadagreed with Milo.

“Best as I recall, he wasn’t the first one to come to me saying those things either.”

His dad had clearly agreed with the others too.

Finn launched from the stoop, wringing his hands in the front of his shirt as he paced the width of the lawn and back. Joe looked up from his back scratch on the grass but didn’t bother coming to his side. Joe could probably feel the tension flying off of him in waves and wanted no part of it.

For once, he was a smart dog.

“Finn?” His dad pushed himself up, slower and stiffer. “What’s gotten into you?”

Finn flung his hand out in the direction of the past. “Youtold him you didn’t expect anything from me. It was like you were telling him you were certain I was going to fail.”

His dad caught his arm in a firm grip, but Finn couldn’t match his gaze, his periphery turning cloudy.

“I did say that. I said that to every single one of the men who came sniffing around after my diagnosis.”

Finn blinked hard to clear his eyes. “Sniffing around for what?”

“The business. They wanted to buy it from me. They thought you were too young to take it on, to make it succeed, to carry it into the future.”

“And you didn’t expect much from me because...”

“Because I didn’t want them sniffin’ around you, waiting for you to fail. I figured if they thought the status quo was all I was hoping for, they’d know I wasn’t going to be disappointed if the business didn’t take off right away under your leadership. You and I both know that there are good years and not-as-good years. But I knew you’d figure it out. I just didn’t want you to have to deal with guys coming after your business—especially right after you took over—saying I thought you should sell.”

Planting his hands on his hips and hunching his shoulders, Finn let out a long sigh. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry that I’d regret not selling it. Or that you’d think there was something you could do that wouldn’t make me proud of you.” His dad paused, his head tilting to the side. “Did you think all this time that I thought you couldn’t handle the dogs? That you would somehow ruin what my dad built? Psh. Not likely.”

Finn clapped a hand to the back of his neck. “I don’t get it. What is it that you expect from me?”

His dad licked his lips slowly and scratched his chin. “Well, I suppose I want you to love God and treat others with respect. I expect you to work hard and care for those under your watch. Your mom would sure approve if you fell in love and gave us a few grandbabies.”

“Dad.”

“I’m serious. She would.”

With a shake of his head, Finn met his dad’s gaze. “I’ve been trying for years to expand the business on my own—to build onto the barn and take in more dogs. To somehow prove you wrongandmake you proud of me.”

Something like compassion sparked in his dad’s eyes. “You can stop trying. I will always be proud of you. You’re my son. And even if you weren’t, you’re a man of integrity and generosity. You help your neighbors and rescue damsels from the harbor.”

His cheeks burned at the memory, and his heart squeezed at the reminder. But he forced himself to stay in the conversation. “So, you don’t care that I’m just making ends meet? Or that most of the profit goes to feeding ornery cattle? Or that I just took in a mini Highland cow?”

His dad’s eyebrow rose. “Your mom will want to meet him.”

Finn stared him down until his dad’s smile broke free.

“I couldn’t care less. I want you to be all of the things you already are, and I want you to enjoy your life. If that means filling the barn with stray animals, fine. I wanted to pass something of value to you. Whatever you choose to do with it is up to you.”

Finn looked down then, a smile tugging at his mouth as freedom settled on his shoulders. “Cretia had this wild idea.The neighbor kids like to come over to visit the animals, and she said she thought that tourists would pay to visit the property, to bottle-feed baby goats and, you know ... pet furry cows.”

His dad chuckled—not a laugh of disbelief or derision but a laugh of pure joy. “I bet they would. Come on inside and tell me more.”

Twenty

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