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“No reason.” Dad looked out across the pasture. He’d grown up in this house, made the decision right here with my grandfather to try to make something more of the company he’d started. It would’ve been easy to stay in Burdett and try to make a decent living. My father wanted more. So did I.
“I’ve never questioned my place until yesterday.”
“You’re still angry.”
The ball sailed over his head.
“That doesn’t even scratch the surface.”
He trotted after it, pitching it to me a little more aggressively. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“All my life, you’ve taught us about the importance of family, honesty, working together. When it came down to it, none of that mattered,” I said, disappointed in the whole situation.
“It’s why I do everything. For you, your brother, and your mother.” His voice rose, echoing in the wind. I drew little satisfaction knowing I wasn’t the only one pissed off.
“Forgive me if I view things differently now.” I yanked off my glove. “Why’d you revoke my access to the bank accounts?”
He refused to look at me, removing his own glove. “It’s time for supper.”
“Not even an attempt at a lame excuse? I’m not sure if I respect you more for that or if I’m mad you’re avoiding me.” I stalked around the house to the backyard, my boots crunching on the dry grass.
The remnants of my grandmother’s garden were in the distance. That old swing hanging from the tree twisted in the wind. I’d broken that thing standing on it when I was twelve. Instead of getting a talking to, my grandfather had let me help him fix it. He was gone from a heart attack a few weeks later.
I wandered over, testing out the ropes. They were weathered, almost in need of repair again.
When you break something, son, you fix it.
His words of wisdom had stuck with me. I’d lived by them, this swing a symbol of that. Over the years, I’d taken it upon myself to make sure it stayed hanging.
I’d broken a lot of stuff over the last few months, things that needed fixing. So much so, it was hard to know where to start.
I pulled out my phone and sat down on the wood plank. The ropes creaked, but held under my weight. I dialed the person who always had a way of putting things in perspective. The phone rang a few times.
“Give me a hot cocoa Blizzard. Large. Chicken tenders and the biggest fries you’ve got.”
I pulled the phone away from my head and glanced at the screen before returning it to my ear. “Hello?”
“You want something to drink?” a muffled voice asked.
“I’m good.”
I smirked. I’d seen to that. Should’ve known Mulaney would be at Dairy Queen.
“Oh, um, our credit card machine is down.”
“Of course, it is.” There was rustling on the other end of the line. “Keep it.”
“But this is fift—”
“Merry Christmas.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. The scrooge would’ve sounded more enthused.
“What the hell is so funny?” Mulaney barked at me through the phone as a bell jingled when she must have left the restaurant.
“Is that why you needed my truck, Heartbreaker? To load up on Dairy Queen?”
“I’m hungry.”
