and grab another bundle of hay. “I know,” I say, not at all proud of what I’d done. I caused so much damage, to everyone.
“You should go get her,” Tyler says, refusing to let this go.
With my patience thinning—the kid has been busting my balls all week—I say, “I am not going to get her.”
“Because she hates you?” he asks.
Yeah, because she hates me.
I shake my head. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think, little brother?”
“Fine, I will. You love her; she loves you. You were so sure she was going to fail at this, you bet the farm, but then she proved to be something more, and even though you needed her to fail, you’re still a good guy, so you helped her however you could.”
I exhale loudly and cut the rope on the new hay bundle. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up, but I’m not a good guy.”
“Yes, you are, and she knows it.”
“She’s too good for me, bro.”
“Like hell. She needs you as much as you need her.”
Tyler leans against the barn door, and the hinges creak. I make a mental note to grease them later.
“Did you ever stop to think about why she hasn’t sold the farm to Bryce, when it would have been a lot easier than listing it?” he asks.
“Yeah, actually, I was wondering about that.” Offloading it on Bryce instead of putting up a sign would have been the smart move. The house is still half painted, and so much needs to be done that I’m sure she’s not going to get fair market value. But that’s not any of my business now, is it?
“Let me tell you why. Both of us were pretty sure he was going to turn it into a strip mall or something equally stupid.”
I stop shoveling hay. Jesus, I never thought about that, but it makes perfect sense. I eye my brother. “What makes you say that?” I ask.
“Just some of the things he said, like tearing down the house.”
“He can’t do that.”
Tyler cracks his knuckles. “Yeah, he can if he buys it, and the fact that she won’t sell it to him must tell you she cares about this place, about what happens to it, and us,” he continues. “If you’re thinking she was only doing this to save her trust fund, you’d be wrong.”
I stare at my little brother as he glares at me. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately.”
He pushes off the door as Barack O’Llama comes from the orchard. “I have another question for you.”
I sigh and lean against the pitchfork. “I’m sure you do.”
He runs his hands over the llama’s back, and Barack tries to nuzzle his neck. “Did you ever think about why she left?”
“We know why she left, Tyler. She hates me and took off in the middle of the night because she couldn’t get away from me quick enough.”
“She left so you wouldn’t lose the farm, asshole.”
My heart misses a beat. “Fuck,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s right. She lost everything, bro. Have you thought of that?”
I spent the last week sulking and kicking my own ass. I should have been thinking about what leaving cost her—and not just financially. I’m a bigger asshole than I realized.
As if reading my thoughts, Tyler says, “You’re not an asshole, Jay.”
I drop the pitchfork and sit my ass down onto one of the hay bales. Throughout the month, Alyson had blossomed before my eyes, her confidence brimming over as she soaked up every crumb of knowledge she could to make the farm successful. She found herself here; she discovered her purpose. Goddammit, this is where she belongs, and I ruined everything.
“You need to go get her.”
The voice comes from a distance, and I stare at the barn door until my mother comes into view, Capone on her arm.
“Jay’s an asshole,” Capone says.
“He might be acting like one,” Mom agrees. “But he’s going to fix that.”
I stand and walk outside. The afternoon sun shines down, and I try to breathe but can’t seem to fill my lungs. “What if she never wants to see me again?”
“There’s only one way to find out now, isn’t there?”
I glance around. “I can’t leave—”
“Jayden,” she says, and I stop speaking. She’s using my full name, and she only ever does that when I’m in trouble or she has something very important to say. “Have you ever stopped and asked yourself why you never moved to the city with Juanita?”