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“I think I can forgive you,” Luke said, grinning. “Okay, so first things first. We should call Ginger and talk to her. See what’s going on at the ranch and all of that.”
Slate nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“Second,” Luke said. “You call your mother and say you’ll be there for Thanksgiving.”
Slate nodded, though the thought of going to Austin alone didn’t sit well with him. “I didn’t think I should go to Austin alone.”
“I think…I think you need toknowyou’re not the man you were before. And I don’t think you’llknowthat until you go alone.”
Slate nodded, because he’d spent a lot of time hiding behind things. First, it was the concussion he’d suffered from in college. That had caused him to start with the prescription pain medication.
That had led to his drug addiction. He’d hidden behind his job, with the suit and tie and professional bank setting. Once he’d been exposed and gone to prison, he’d hidden behind Ted and Nate. When he got out, he hid behind the fear of becoming the person he’d been in Austin.
You’re just going to run away.
Jill had said those words to him, and he’d admitted that he was.
“It’s time to stop running,” he said. “Stop hiding.”
“Yes,” Luke said. “I know that terrifies you. I understand it, Slate. I do. But it’s time. You can’t be happy when you’re running.”
They finished their dinner in silence, and as Slate crumpled up the paper their sandwiches had come in, he looked at Luke. “What are you doing, then? You’re not running?”
Luke shrugged. “I’m searching for myself. There’s a difference.”
“I hope you find him,” Slate said, standing up. “I know you will. You’re smart and resourceful.”
“I’m going to tell my dad you said that,” Luke said, following the statement with a laugh.
“Maybe college,” Slate suggested. “You never did that, and I don’t know. Maybe you’d find yourself there.”
“I’m not ruling anything out,” Luke said. He grabbed onto Slate as he passed and clapped him loudly on the back. “You can do this, Slate. It’s time to take control of the reins of your life and leave everything else behind.”
“Yeah,” Slate said. “It is time for that.”
* * *
A few days later,Slate pulled into the driveway at his parents’ house. Crossing into the city of Austin had required some steel nerves, but he’d done it. He took a few moments in the truck to get everything together after driving for a few hours, and then he faced the house.
No one came out onto the porch today, but he found them inside in the kitchen, elbow-deep in fixing Thanksgiving dinner.
“Oh, Slate’s here,” his mother said, a genuine smile on her face. Slate wished he could do the same, but as he hugged his mom, he felt happier than he had in months.
She laughed as she brushed breadcrumbs off his shoulder. “We’re maybe an hour out.”
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Go see what Daddy’s doing in the back yard,” Cindi said. “He’s been out there tinkering with the turkey for about ten minutes, and that usually means we’re seconds away from calling the fire department.”
“You’re cooking a turkey in the back yard?” Slate asked.
“He’s frying it,” Momma said. “It’s actually really good, even if we did have to call the fire department a couple of years ago.”
“I’ll check on him,” Slate said, already walking toward the sliding glass door. Outside, he found his father hovering around a steaming fryer while Cindi’s husband loitered nearby. They both turned toward Slate as his footsteps hit the stairs, and he lifted his hand to say hello.
His father actually smiled, and Slate returned it. “How are things out here?”
“Your mother sent you to check on me, didn’t she?”
