Page 24 of Backward Motion

“Nice enough couple. One kid.” Connor reached over to flick the switch on the garbage disposal. It let out a satisfactory growl.

“With all these rooms?”

“I guess some people need a lot of space.”

Connor turned on the oven and noticed the interior light didn’t come on. He opened the door to peer inside and wiggled the bulb to find it wasn’t screwed in all the way. As it leapt to life in his hand, he heard the click of Sam’s camera. He straightened to see Sam checking his phone with a smile.

“What?” Sam said when he caught Connor’s feigned scowl. “It’s a good photo. You look very handy.”

“Screwing in a lightbulb? Not exactly my best work.”

The corners of Sam’s mouth tweaked. “I need to feed the beast. Our socials are on fire.”

“Whatever you say, college boy.”

Once Connor had finished inside, they stepped out onto the patio so he could test the exterior receptacles. Sam sat on the stone steps that led to the lawn and watched him. “Can you imagine living in a place like this?”

Connor considered it. He liked the scenery and the illusion of being out in the middle of nowhere, but the house was too vast, too opulent. “Honestly, no.”

“Me neither,” Sam said.

Connor flipped the cover closed on the last outlet and went to join Sam on the top step. “I don’t want to be stuck here the rest of my life.”

Sam frowned as though surprised. “Oakdale?”

“You don’t think I’ve been planning my escape all these years? Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to up and disappear?”

“Where would you go?”

“Abroad, most likely. Maybe backpack through Europe for a bit, camp out in South America. Get one of those working holiday visas, you know. The trades seem to travel well. I’m sure I could find work.”

A stab of fear struck Connor. He’d been mulling over a version of this fantasy for as long as he could remember but had never spoken it out loud. And here he was, spilling his guts. He glanced over at Sam and waited for him to laugh or tell Connor he was crazy, but the man nodded as if the idea made perfect sense.

“What would you do about the business?” Sam asked. “Contract someone to run it while you’re gone?”

Connor stared out at the line of trees. This was the part where it got messy. Where his flesh and blood got tangled up in the matter, complicating things.

“There’s actually someone in Henderson who might be interested in buying it. The business wouldn’t be family-owned anymore, but he said he would keep the name. That’s some sort of legacy, right? It’s going to die with me anyway.” Connor scuffed the heel of his bootagainst the lower step. “Doesn’t matter—it’s a moot point. I can’t go anywhere with my dad like this. Flit off to Europe and leave my mom to deal with it all?” He gave a short laugh. “After everything I’ve done, I owe it to him.”

He hadn’t expected the anger when he met Sam’s gaze.

“When are you going to stop beating yourself up for things that happened years ago?” Sam demanded. “So you were a little difficult growing up—who wasn’t? You can’t keep punishing yourself for not being the perfect son.”

Connor looked down at his hands. “My dad convinced Krazinski not to press charges. But without a police report, he couldn’t claim insurance, so my dad paid for the damage to the shed out of his own pocket. He had to use most of the business savings. A couple years later, he got the diagnosis and had to scale back his hours at work. Financially, I don’t think he ever recovered.”

Sam’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so I feel pretty fucking responsible.”

Sam bumped Connor with his shoulder. “I get it,” he said quietly. “But I’m willing to bet spending the rest of your life trying to make up for something you did as an angry teenager isn’t good for either of you—you or your father.”

Connor said nothing. Sam’s words circled in his head, unearthing a buried hope.

“You were right,” Sam announced into the silence. “The view was worth it.”

Connor allowed himself a smile. “I thought so.”

“Brian asked me to join him and the kids at the fall festival tonight,” Sam said. “Want to come with?”