Homesick

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

I can hear my mom quietly shuffling in what used to be my bedroom. I’m thankful for the few moments of silence before we spend the next two hours in a car together.

She’s the type of mom to drive into a city she hates to help me pack up what’s left of my former life. I think she’s visited me twice since I’ve lived here, but I can’t fault her for feeling out of place in this city. I’ve felt out of place here for a while, yet I chose to stay.

After a short and not-so-sweet meeting with some random HR employee, I was laid off and faced with the reality of the bleak job market. I tried for months to find the perfect rebound, but I guess this city finally realized how much I didn’t fit in here.

I snap out of my self-induced pity party and start double-checking the small space for any signs of life that may cost me the deposit I desperately need back.

After one dark night spent almost signing up for one of those sugar baby websites, I finally decided to throw in the towel and admit my defeat to my parents. They were excited when I told them how much of a failure I was. That meant that they got to have their little girl back.

The reality of the situation was I hated my job and being laid off was a blessing in disguise. I wasn’t passionate about marketing research, and it was merely a way to pay the bills. It was also a way to get away from my hometown. To put some distance between him and I.

As I internally pout to myself, I hear my mom enter the small living room/kitchen space I’m standing in. She softly walks over and leans against the counter.

“Your bedroom is all clear, Wren. Are you ready to get out of this hell hole?”

“Mom, the wound is still fresh. You can make jokes about how much the city sucks once I’m officially under your roof again.”

I make sure to throw her a sarcastic smile to assure her I’m only joking.

She chuckles to herself before clapping her hands together.

“Okay, great. Let’s get on the road then.”

I pick up the last box of my things from the floor and grab my key from my back pocket. I take a deep breath and gingerly place the piece of metal on the kitchen counter.

I turn to take one last look at the scenic brick wall my apartment looks out onto, and I sarcastically think to myself, damn, I’m going to miss that view .

Before I follow my mom out the door, I take in the empty room surrounding me and whisper a silent thank you . The one last piece keeping me from my past has finally fallen away and now it’s time to face the music.

* * *

The past two hours have been filled with throwback country music and my mom catching me up on everything that’s been happening in the town of Honey Grove. I always felt lucky to live in such a cute little town. However, those na?ve thoughts faded with puberty after finding out the nearest mall was over an hour away.

Honey Grove is like any other small town in southwestern New York. Everyone knows everyone and you need to triple check your family lineage before accidentally dating a distant cousin. Just ask Bobby McDunne, who was supposed to be my date to winter formal in middle school.

Overall, my hometown was a great place to grow up and I have countless memories, both good and bad. The bad memories are the ones that have kept me away for the past six years. The only reason I had been home for longer than a day was for holidays and special occasions. Even then I’d avoid any place where there was even a faint possibility I’d run into him.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat when I hear a familiar tune start playing on the radio. I haven’t heard the song since sophomore homecoming when I’d finally admitted my feelings to one of my childhood best friends. It’s funny how so many great memories were ruined by a single bad one.

Thankfully, my mom pulls me out of my walk down memory lane before I completely spiral.

“I was asking around town to see if there were any job openings and it looks like they need a new waitress at the Rustic Inn.”

There’s no way I’m waitressing in my hometown. That sounds like one of the nine circles of hell from Dante’s Inferno .

“Thanks, Mom, but I think I can manage to find something on my own,” I politely answer. “I’m not completely ready to give up my job hunt yet. I might need to look somewhere other than Cleveland or maybe something remote.”

“You really want to move even further away from me,” she whines.

I love my mother, but sometimes I swear it’s like I’m an only child. My brother decided to stick around after high school so he could help my dad with the small farm my family owns. I thought that was basically my get-out-of-jail-free card for moving wherever I wanted to, but I was still constantly guilt tripped by the woman sitting next to me.

“I’m going to have to move somewhere near a city. I can’t get a job in marketing research out where we live.” I slump back in my seat and look wistfully out of the window to let her know I’m done with the conversation.

She doesn’t seem to get the hint because two seconds later she counters with, “well I think you should stick around for a bit. It’ll do you good to breath in fresh air for a while.”

I sigh and keep my comments to myself. If I’m going to live blissfully with my parents again, I need to learn how to hold my tongue.

Thankfully, I’m saved by the bell when we pull onto a familiar dirt road with miles of fields that are getting ready for the first cut of the season.

“We’re home!” my mom gleefully announces.

Sure enough, I spot the battered-up sign with Campbell Farm barely legibly on it. The red barn my dad made me paint on the sign is now starting to fade and some of the wood is beginning to chip off around the edges.

“That sign could use some TLC.”

“It’s a good thing you’ll have plenty of free time to fix it up. It’s almost like it’s been waiting for you to come home,” she gleams and pulls the car down the long driveway.

I still can’t believe I made this walk every day to the bus. I swear it gets longer and longer every time I come home.

I can feel my mom’s happiness radiate when I finally spot the familiar farmhouse. The one thing making this move bearable is seeing my family again. I used to be close to my parents and brother before I left for college, but the distance has become more noticeable the longer I stayed away. I let out the deep breath I didn’t know I was holding as my mom parks her car in front of the house. I feel the flutter of nervousness rise in my stomach. It’s weird being home after all this time.

The old white farmhouse is, surprisingly, still standing. My dad inherited the house from his grandparents and someday my older brother will inherit it as well. The two-story building looks like something out of a Hallmark movie, even though the inside tells a much different story.

I open the car door to get out and pause for a second before letting my foot crunch down on the loose gravel. I take in the old barns sitting across the road and my entire body hums to life at the feeling of familiarity.

“Hey hun, can you go get the boys? Ashley should be here any minute with the pizza,” my mom asks, heading inside with some of my things.

“Sure, Mom.”

I assume my dad and brother are in the barn, so I head across the road. I’m hit with a strong whiff of cow shit as I walk. That’s hardly the kind of nostalgia I would like right now .

As I’m walking, I see an unfamiliar black pick-up truck sitting next to the calf barn and I decide to start there. The truck looks more familiar the closer I get, but I still can’t place it.

I walk into the barn, almost running into my brother walking in the opposite direction. “Ah, the favorite child has returned,” he smiles before pulling me in for a hug.

Chris towers over my five-feet five-inch frame and I’m met with a face full of sweat that’s completely soaked through the t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Chris, you’re freaking soaked! Unhand me,” I say before playfully pushing him away.

“I see how it is. You’re too good to hug your only brother.”

“I don’t understand how you bagged Ashley with that stellar hygiene of yours.”

“If you must know baby sis, it’s because of my huge d?—”

I quickly interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. “Where’s Dad? Ashley’s on her way with the food.”

Something clicks in his brain and there’s a mischievous look behind his eyes.

“He’s inside trying to get one of the new calves to feed. I’ll go grab him if you want. Wouldn’t want to get any cow shit on those nice shoes,” he says as he looks down at my squeaky-clean Reeboks.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll go tell him. Plus, I haven’t seen any of the new babies yet.”

“Okay,” he says like he knows something I don’t. “Oh, and Wren, please don’t get all dramatic like you usually do,” Chris says, nervously jogging away before I can ask another question.

Weird , I think to myself. I head deeper into the barn, and I spot my dad trying to coax a calf to latch onto its mom’s udder.

“Dad!”

He looks up just in time to catch me in one of his famous bear hugs.

“Hey, kiddo! Good to have you home.”

When he says it, he sounds genuine, and it almost does feel good to be home.

“Good to be home, old man. I promise I won’t be in your hair for long.”

“You know you’re welcome here as long as you need it. You couldn’t have come at a better time. You were always good with getting stubborn calves to latch on. Can you give it a try while I go wash up?”

“Uhh yeah. Sure,” I answer nervously as I look at the cute calf.

“Okay, great. I’ll be right back. Watch the momma though. She’s a kicker!”

“Wait, what—” I try to say before he scampers off.

The mom cow and I make eye contact after he disappears, and I give her a little scratch on her head. If there’s one thing I missed about Honey Grove, it was my family farm. I used to spend every free minute I had in the calf barn as soon as February hit, and it was baby cow season. May is almost over, so this is probably one of the last cows to have a baby this season.

I head over to the cute little brown and white spotted calf hanging out beside its mom and try to coax her to the side of the cow. The mom cow is blissfully mowing down on some grain so it’s the perfect time to get the calf to feed. I position myself behind the baby cow and push her toward the udder.

After some struggling and hesitation, I’m finally able to get the calf to latch on to the udder. I feel a weird sense of pride boil up and it feels good to have even a small win after so many failures in the past few months.

I keep holding the calf to help her drink and yell to my dad, “I did it! I guess I still have the magic touch.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever lost it, Wren.”

I whip my head around at the familiar voice and leaning against the stall is none other than Blake fucking Fisher.

The movement startles the mom cow. My grip on the calf loosens when the mom cow kicks out her back left leg and the calf backs up into me.

I immediately fall on my ass using my arms to catch myself at the last minute. As soon as I land, I know what’s happened.

It takes me a minute to come to terms with the situation, but I’ve just landed in a pile of fresh cow shit courtesy of the smug looking adult cow in front of me. I’ve been in Honey Grove for less than an hour and I’m already seeing signs that this was a bad idea.

The biggest sign of all rushes over to me with his big green eyes and tousled brown hair. “Shit, Wren. Are you okay? Here, let me help you up.”

Blake reaches out his hand, but I promptly smack it away.

It takes everything in me to pull my eyes from his. I haven’t seen him in six years, but it’s hard to ignore the soft lines that have turned into sharp curves. Every inch of my body instantly perks up in response to him and that pisses me off .

“No thanks. I don’t need your help,” I say sharply as I proceed to hoist myself up and walk away as fast as humanly possible.

To say our first time seeing each other was a shit show is an understatement.