“Right, so why—” I sucked in a breath. “Did something happen? Is he?—”
“He’s fine,” she said, voice soothing. “We had a little heart scare. He’s recovering well.”
“Recovering!” I yelped. “What happened?”
My mother proceeded to tell me all about my father’sminorheartscare, which had ended with stents being inserted into his arteries. Not once, but twice! And without a single call to me.
“How could you not tell me?” I asked, wounded.
“Well, I did call,” she said tentatively. “I didn’t want to blurt it all on the voicemail, honey. I told you we had something to talk about.”
Shit. That message came in the night of a major blowup with Reginald. I’d completely forgotten to return the call. I’d been melting down over a stupid restaurant while my father was in the hospital.
“I’m so sorry,” I croaked while Kody turned, concern creasing his forehead.
“Noel,” she said, her stern mom voice coming out, “listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“You work in a demanding, stressful, ambitious field. We’ve always understood you had dreams. We want you to live your best life. We’refinehere. This is our happy place. It hasn’t always been yours, and I’m so sorry it wasn’t the best place to come out as a young gay kid.”
“Not your fault, Mom.”
“Still,” she said. “We’re not upset you’re busy. You have a life. We get it. But…”
“I should have called back,” I murmured.
“If you don’t, you could miss something important, honey. And I only worry because we won’t be the ones living with regret.”
“You’re right.”
“If you can’t make it home, we’ll understand. We always do. It gets so busy around here?—”
“Wait, howareyou managing a tree farm in Dad’s condition? He’s not out there working, is he?”
“No, of course not. Hopper is helping us out. You remember him, don’t you?”
Tall, broad football player with every girl in school panting after him—and one scrawny, terrified gay boy? Yeah, hard to forget.
“His parents’ farm went under years ago. He’s been running the farm for us. Honestly, we owe him so much. We’d probably have to retire otherwise.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? It sounds like Dad needs to take it easy.”
“Maybe not,” she allowed. “But you know your father. He’s a third-generation farmer. He’s not going to just sell it to the highest bidder.”
No, he’d always wanted to pass it on to me, and now that I was gone, Hopper had moved in, taking advantage of my parents’ precarious position. With a little charm, he might even convince them to just hand over the deed, no money needed, for all his dedicated work.
Dad’s voice called out in the background.
“Be right there!” Mom called, muffling the receiver so she didn’t blast off my ear. Her voice was quiet as she returned. “I should go make Ed some lunch. Otherwise, he’s likely to coverthe whole meal in salt. Honestly, he’s worse than managing a toddler!”
I chuckled. “Okay, Mom. Thanks for calling again.”
“No worries. You have a Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t make any plans. I’ll be home to cook a big meal for us all.”
“Really?”
