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Dad’s fingers tighten around the pitchfork, his knuckles white. He raises his free hand to his chest, rubbing at the middle.
He thinks he’s hurt by my behavior? Let him trade places with me for a day, then he’ll know what real hurt feels like.
With a shake of my head, I turn around and get the hell out of the barn.
One more day.
Post-wedding brunch at Emmett’s, and then I’m done. I’m getting out of this godforsaken town, and this time, I’m not coming back.
The step creaks as I climb to the back porch of Emmett’s parent’s place. The tall, two-story house is the same as I remember it from my childhood. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been here. Emmett and I’d run through the back doorafter school without a care in the world, only to be greeted by Mrs. Santiago’s smile and food. This was my happy place, a home away from home, but today, I hold my breath as I push the back door open, unsure of who I’ll find inside, but the only person there is Mrs. Santiago.
She looks up from the pan, a smile forming on her lips. “Miguel! Did you get some rest?”
“A little. How are you doing, Mrs. S.?” I tip my chin in the direction of the stove and quickly change the subject so she can’t detect the lie. “Need some help?”
“Oh, please.” She waves me off. “I’m the happiest when I get to cook for a big group of people.”
That much was true. The Santiago household was very much like my own. People were always mingling around the house. The ranch hands were more like a family than workers.
Laughter comes from the living room, drawing my attention.
“You should go back there. Some of Emmett’s friends have come down already. Hopefully, Emmett and Kate will be here soon, because breakfast is almost ready.”
“Mrs. S., do you nee—”
My heart does a little summersault at the sound of her voice. My eyes fall shut as that grip around my chest tightens.
I guess my fight with Dad did one good thing after all. It pushed my conversation with Rebecca out of my mind, if only temporarily.
“Miguel.”
That one softly spoken word is like a punch to my gut. My Adam’s apple bobs as I swallow the knot lodged in my throat. My eyes snap open, zeroing in on her pale face.
Any trace of makeup is gone, leaving visible dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s dressed in a simple maxi dress, her handgripping the doorway so hard her knuckles have bleached of color.
Not even a foot separates us, and my fingers itch to reach out and touch her.
I press my lips together, the events of last night flashing in my head.
The wedding, the dancing, her confession.
I lost our baby.
My fingers curl into fists by my sides. The silence stretches as we just stare at one another, the tension filling the air sizzling with all the things neither of us wants to voice out.
“Great, you’re just in time,” Mrs. Santiago says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You can take this out to the table. And Miguel can help you.”
“Oh, no.” Rebecca shakes her head, turning her attention to Mrs. Santiago. “I can—”
But the older woman is having none of it.
“I’m sure it’s not a problem.” She turns toward me, a sweet smile on her face, but I don’t miss the determined expression in her eyes. A look that’s not leaving any room for me to tell her no. “Right, Miguel?”
“Of course.”
“Perfect!” Mrs. Santiago claps her hands before grabbing a bowl and handing it to Rebecca while I get a tray with a different assortment of meats and cheeses.
I follow after her into the dining room where, just like Mrs. Santiago said, a few of Emmett’s friends are already chatting softly amongst each other.
