Page 25 of Forever in the Country

Hank points his finger at me. “Fix that shit.”

He knows better than anyone what I’m feeling. He lived a very parallel existence and while he’s found his place, my road to recovery is something else entirely.

Hank slams the cookie cutter down with surprising precision across the flattened dough before he looks at me again. “What?”

“I never wanted anyone to have to choose sides.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Hank’s eye twitches as he whips the cookie cutter into the sink. It slams around before coming to rest in the basin, the sound echoing through the quiet of the kitchen. “It’s not about sides. Do you think I didn’t want to beat the shit out of Waylon after everything he pulled with Marlee?” He points an accusatory finger at me. “And you for that matter?”

Waylon and I had definitely been on the wrong side of my sister’s wrath, but even in the moment I was proud of her for standing her ground. I’d had to build a chicken coop and help plan hisgrand gesture,but it was far from penance seeing her so happy in the end.

But Hank was right. Marlee had been pissed and she’d called him and he’d been there without question.

“It’s hard, man. I won’t say it’s not. It’s constantly reminding yourself every day that you’re worth the time and affection of another person—to let that person see the darkest sides of you. But you have to.”

I don’t know if I can.

He must see it written on my face because he lifts a shoulder and then lets it fall before grabbing a baking sheet and setting it on the island next to him.

“Whatever is haunting you”—he pauses for emphasis like he knows it isn’t just one thing—“will never be worth the loneliness. She’s already shown you she can walk beside you. You just haven’t been paying attention.”

With that, he returns to the task at hand, and I slip silently from the kitchen and out into the night. Hank was right about a lot of things except one. Ihavebeen paying attention and that’s the problem. Fear seeps into my veins as the reality that I may have already lost her crashes over me. And now I need the only other place that has ever felt like home if I have any chance of surviving this mess.

* * *

I letmyself in the back door of the farmhouse that growing up was more to me than just my best friend’s house. Vincent sits at the table reading the paper and looks up when he hears the creak of the screen door.

“Should I be concerned that my daughter is takin’ a few days off at the bakery and you’re here lookin’ like you do?”

The pages crinkle as he folds it back into its original shape and waits. I know I could walk right past him and up the stairs to the room they keep for when I need to disappear for a while.

Hiding in plain sight.

But for all intents and purposes he’s my father and he deserves…something.

Pulling the chair out across from him, I drop my head into my hands as my elbows hit the kitchen table.

“She’s mad at me.”

“Put that together all on my own if you can believe it.”

My lips twitch ruefully as I sit back and drag my hands down my face before looking at him.

“I don’t know how to turn it off.”

He doesn’t ask me to clarify because we’ve talked about it time and time again. I’ve been assessing situations since I was eight years old while taking care of my sister. When we came here, it took a while, but I slowly let others share the burden. It was never truly gone but I wasn’t so panicked all the time over how she was or what she was doing.

I trusted everyone to keep her safe—I trustedherto be safe when I joined the Marine Corps. It was something I wanted so badly—a need. A calling. And I’d been damn good at it.

It should have been my career, but shit happens and I’d landed back in Clementine Creek with nothing but time on my hands.

“Tanner and I have been working nonstop, and he’s the only one who gets it because he’s adjusting too but—”

“It’s a process and there’s nothin’ wrong with needing time.”

I want to saytell that to your daughterbut I’d never disrespect him like that.

“She’s going on a date.”

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