Page 6 of Echoes of a Southern Song

That’s the question that’s been running through the back of my mind. Is she mad at me? I could offer comfort. Distraction.

But she didn’t want me.

That hurts.

I thought I’d been a good boyfriend. Maybe she didn’t want a boyfriend. I didn’t regret giving her the money. I’d make more. I guess I was just thinking we were team.

My phone buzzes. Michael’s name flashes on the screen.

I answer with a grunt.

“Hey, little brother.”

“Hey,” I reply.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“Good.”

“Playing tonight?”

“Yeah, later.”

“What’s going on?” he asks. “This is the first time since you left that you sound like you’re struggling.”

I can’t tell him about Jinnie. “Just a shitty day. How’s it going back there?”

“Same old shit.” He chuckles. “Literally. We bought a new bull at the auction.”

“Yeah? A good one?”

“Dad’s hoping to start a little side business breeding and selling,” he says.

“Are things tight?”

“Nah. I mean, no more than usual. You know Dad. He’s always thinking of ways to make things a little better.”

“Everything for the farm,” I mutter. “He still pissed at me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “Uh, yeah.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

He clears his throat. “It means he’s playing dirty.”

I sit up. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Says he’s gonna sue for your share of the farm’s value if you don’t come back. Claims you walked away from a binding partnership.”

I bark a laugh. “There was no partnership. I was born. I don’t remember signing anything at the ripe age of one-day-old.”

“Look, I think it’s bullshit, but you know how he gets when he’s dug in. He’s just looking for anything he can do to get your ass home. By any means necessary. He wants you back.”

I clench the phone tighter, my jaw locking as I process Michael’s words. “Sue me? For what? He can’t just pull that out of his ass.”

“He’s desperate, Jack,” Michael says, his voice calm but tired, like he’s been the middleman in this nonsense for too long. “You know how he is. He doesn’t want to lose you—not really. He just doesn’t know how to say it.”

“Yeah, well, threatening a lawsuit isn’t exactly a heartfelt plea for me to come home,” I snap, running a hand through my hair. “He doesn’t want me, Michael. He wants a farmhand. A body to fill the boots. He doesn’t give a damn about what I want.”

“That’s not true,” Michael says quietly. “He’s just set in his ways. You know that. The farm is his life, and he wants it to be yours too. He thinks he’s doing what’s best for you.”

“Best for me?” I laugh bitterly; the sound harsh even to my own ears. “He doesn’t even know me, Mike. Not really. If he did, he wouldn’t be pulling this crap.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can hear Michael exhale slowly, like he’s weighing his words. “Look, I’m not saying he’s right. But he’s our dad. He doesn’t know any other way. I’m just letting you know where he’s at.”

“I thought he would be over it by now. Shit. I’m gone. I’m not going back. I’ll live in a tent the rest of my days before I go back there.”

“Jack—”

First Jinnie’s mess, now this. Like the universe decided today was screw-Jack-over day.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I mutter. “I gotta go.”

I hang up before he can say more. Toss the phone onto the bed and flop back.

My thoughts are all over the place, but they all come back to her.

What if she changes her mind? What if Sam sweet-talks her into giving him another chance? What if I really am sued by my father?