Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,283

point I believed I might be out here alone. Of course, I wanted what was best for you boys, only the thought of not having anyone scared me.”

I tap her hand reassuringly. “If push comes to shove, you know I’d be here for you.”

She smiles up at me. “All of you have been good to me. Rhett finished his football career before coming back. He helped you to secure your career before he retired. It was your hard work that got you where you are today, but your brother spoke to the Thunder coach about giving you a chance because he saw the potential in you first.”

She leaves out the part about how I was a reckless teenager and always in trouble with the law, so no doubt my brother had a tough job convincing any club to take me on, even if I am nearly seven-foot tall.

“Jase stayed here with me, and now he has a chance at a football career. It seems someone was looking out for me, making sure one son was always here to help.”

“I should’ve been here more,” I murmur.

“It’s not your time,” she replies quickly.

We turn a corner, and there on a clearing is an old tractor. Even the new brown paint doesn’t disguise the fact it was my Dad’s tractor.

The one that killed him.

The source of my demons.

I still, frozen to the spot, not wanting to take another step.

My eyes fixate on the large tyres, wishing it all to be an illusion.

“Why is it out of the shed?” I say flatly.

“It was your father’s pride and joy.”

I remember…

… remember how he used to teach me how to ride it...

… remember how he taught me to fix little things.

“It took his life.”

“It was an accident. And yet looking back, I know now it was his time to go. I believe that,” she says looking at me earnestly. “We all have a certain time, and when it’s up—”

“It wasn’t an accident,” I snap. “Why do you believe that crap?”

“Because I’ll never accept a little boy killed him.” Our eyes meet, and hers are seeking understanding. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“Why do you think I do?”

“Because you cried yourself to sleep most nights. I’d come in and lay beside you, hold you when the nightmares hit. You talked in your sleep. I tried to get you to open up, only the more I tried, the more you shut down. And then you found other ways to help with the pain.”

“I killed him. There’s no getting away from the truth.” I drop to one knee and stare at the monster that took my father. “I hate this thing, and I don’t want it out here like a fucking statue for us to worship.”

“You didn’t run him over, Dusty.”

“No, but I fiddled with the brakes because he taught me how to fix things. And the day before, I pretended I was a man with my own farm. My own tractor.”

“He knew. He would go out and check what you did. It wasn’t your fault. It was a freak accident. You need to let this go.” She leans over and cradles me with her soft arms.

“Yet he didn’t fix the brakes… I should’ve told him what I fiddled with. I wanted to be a man, like him, pulling things apart and putting them back together.” I take a step closer to the monster concealed in its new shiny brown coating. Cautiously, I place my foot on the ground as though not to wake the beast. Still, my mind is filling with memories from my childhood—some good, others bad. The images roll in. My shoulders tense and I hunch over to protect myself from the nightmare that undoes me every time I relive my father being crushed under—I’m staring at the wheel that took his life.

“I killed him.” I bow my head. One sob escapes me, and I swallow the lump in my throat and blink back the tears, willing myself not to lose control. I need something to take my mind off the pain. Fuck, I need a stiff drink. The whiskey my dad used to drink—a triple on the rocks. My gut is in knots. I tilt my head back as a sharp pain shoots across my forehead, the tension in my neck and shoulders increasing. I roll my head from side to side.

I need more than a stiff drink.

I need a hit.

An image of Dad’s lifeless body by the tractor is all I visualise.

I can’t breathe.

Eyes shut, I focus