Dad’s lips pressed together in a tight, bloodless line. “I don’t like what the West has done to you. Don’t like it one bit. If this is who you’re becoming, you’d better pack your bags and head somewhere else—anywhere else—as fast as you can.”
Gramps put a hand on Dad’s shoulder and squeezed. “Settle now.”
“You’re wrong, Dad,” I said, voice shaky and thick. “I’m better out there. It’s this place—” I pointed at the ground “—that makes me a terrible person. Why do you think I left?”
Something about that made Dad groan and sink down a couple of inches. “Griffin,” he said, calmer. “Don’t confuse avoidance with growth. Trust me. I would know.”
Dad had left for a decade, trying to get over Mom, and it hadn’t worked. At all. Obviously. But that was the difference between us…
“There’s no happily ever after here for me.” I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. “I hate who I am whenever I’m home.”
“The only way to overcome it is to face it.” Dad shook my shoulders. “You hear me. You’re stronger than your impulses. I know you are.”
I sniffed and wiped my nose. “How? How do you know that?”
Gramps was the one who answered. “Because you’re a Dupree.” His voice had gone hard. “And Duprees love wide open—no holding back. Sometimes you’ll get it wrong. Sometimes you’ll fall clean off the horse. But you get back up, brush off the dust, and try again. However many times it takes. Because a Dupree never gives up on family.”
I stood there, unable to speak. Sick with myself.
“Son, I love you.” Dad sighed. “But you’ve gotta do better.” He shook his head. “I’m going to check on Ford.”
“I’ll come with you.” Gramps gave me a gentle smile.
Before Dad could open the door, I blurted, “So you’re saying I’m a coward for leaving?”
They didn’t turn; no one spoke for a second.
Dad glanced over his shoulder and said, “Only you know the answer to that question.” Then he walked inside.
I did know.
Iwasa coward.
But I didn’t know how to be different.
And until I figured it out, it was better for everyone if I left.
Chapter Seventeen
JULIETTE
The funeral was beautiful. Beautiful, but brutal. Watching my husband and his incredible family grieve would’ve been devastating on its own. But the ever-present reality that Griffin and I were flying back to Phoenix the day after tomorrow hung over me like a two-ton weight. And something upset Griffin at the potluck. He wouldn’t say what, but he’d been quiet and somber for hours afterward. Griffin was never quiet. He had a retort for everything, and I’d come to depend on it.
That evening, while the adults stayed to help Heidi and Scott clean up, the young adults—the Rookie Squad, as the older Duprees called us—headed back to the church for the flowers. Minus Liam, who’d left for Raleigh right after the service.
As we crossed the parking lot, Theo was so buried in his phone that he walked straight into Charlie.
She shrieked.
“Sorry,” Theo said.
“Put your phone away!” She slapped at him. “You’ve been on it all day.”
“I can’t help it.” He jumped out of her reach.
She crossed her arms and scowled. “What are you even looking at?”
He held up a finger, his attention already back on his phone .
