Return To You: A Small Town, Second Chance Romance

1. Ethan

one

“Ethan? Holy fuck, man!” The voice jolts me, and I nearly spill gas on the bike’s tank. It was bound to happen. I just didn’t think I’d be recognized as soon as I rolled into Emerald Creek.

I’m technically not even there yet. I stopped for gas on the side of the road when the village was in sight. I need a minute to gather myself.

I hang the dispenser back and turn to face whoever it is calling my name. Long, assured steps. A big smile on someone’s face that used to sport a frown.

“Colton, man.” I extend my hand, but he grabs me in a bear hug and slaps my back.

“Fuck! It’s been what? Five, six years?”

“Ten.”

He pauses, starts to say something, then stops.

I was here, five, six years ago. Not gonna forget that. I just spent the short time drunk so it would go by faster.

But now is different.

I’mdifferent.

“What brings you back?” He glances at my bike. “Visiting your old digs?”

“It’s Ma’s birthday.”

“Oh nice. I didn’t know. When is it?”

“Sunday.”

“I didn’t know,” he repeats himself. “Ten years, wow.”

“I see ’em now and then,” I say, feeling the need to justify myself. To explain that I’m not a complete piece of shit who walked out on his family and never saw them again.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah. Craig—uh, your dad—he likes to brag. ’Bout where they went to visit you.” He lets out a short, kind laugh. “What was it…uh… Greece? Turkey? Germany?”

Yup, ten years in the Air Force, you get to see some pretty awesome places. Some not so great, too, or less exotic.

I see my siblings, too, but less often. I always find myself on a mission on Christmas and Thanksgiving, and I never complain about it. I’ve been known to volunteer a lot.

But I need to put an end to that.

The reasons I ran away? They’re making less and less sense to me now, and that’s why I’m able to come back.

I blamed myself for the accident that badly injured my brother and took his passenger’s life. I wasn’t driving, I wasn’t at the scene, but at the time I thought, for sure, if I’d done something different that night, said something different, it wouldn’t have happened.

Now that I’ve seen combat and operations, I can tell you: shit goes wrong all the time, and there’s fuck nothing you can do about it, even with the best planning, even when you anticipate all that shit. There’s more shit coming at you. And there’s nothing else you can do than do your best.

So, running scared from a little town in Vermont because you think you messed up? Not worth it. We only have one life to live.

Hey, even the girl who broke my heart is gone. Married, lives in Texas. There’s no chance I’ll run into her. Hell, running into her brother first thing is the closest I’ll get to a past that’s way behind me now.

“It’s good to see you, Colt. This your place now?” It’s a rhetorical question. Colton used to work here, but he’s clearly the owner now, judging by the name painted on the facade. Funny how things change.

The garage I’m looking at is nothing like I remember. Gone is the junk in the front. In its place, a vintage baby blue Chevy. The gas pumps are still old as dirt, but they seem in good working order. They’re clean, and there’s rags and stuff to clean the windshields. Hell, the small office even has potted flowers that someone seems to water.

“Nice bay you got there.” The main improvement is in the garage, and Colton straightens proudly at my words.

“Thanks, man.” Colton was never a talker.

My tank full, I place the pump back and pocket my credit card. “Business is good?”

“Doin’ good. How ’bout you? Where’d you live now?”

“Right now, the back of my bike. Next up, hoping for somewhere warm.”

Colton doesn’t ask questions. Just lifts his chin and pats my bike. “Two thousand eighteen?” He crouches to take a look at the exhaust.

I nod. “Been giving me a little rattle, but other’n that, she runs smooth.”

“Bet she does. Drop her off whenever, I’ll take a look at that rattle.”

“Careful, might take you up on that.”

He unfolds his frame and lays an unsettling gaze on me. “Yeah. Hope you do.” He takes a step back, and I straddle my bike, grab my helmet. “Never took you as a bike guy,” he drops.

“Never thought I’d be one. Just wanna make sure I don’t settle in a place with six months of winter,” I say with a grin. “No offense.”

He gives me a full smile. “None taken. I get it, man. No risk of that with a ride like this.”

Yeah, that’s partly why I bought it.

We’re saved from the awkward moment between us by a teenage girl wearing blue coveralls, her hair in a bun on top of her head, calling from the mouth of the bay. “Yo, Colt! I’m all done here. What next?”

“Just a sec,” Colton calls back to her.

She walks toward us, wiping her hands in a greasy rag, and eyes me top to bottom, a frown on her face, like she’s trying to place me. She does look vaguely familiar. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I answer.

Colton tips his chin at me. “You know who this is?”

She tilts her head. “Maybe?”

“Surprised a hockey girl doesn’t know her legends.”

The girl’s mouth gapes. “Hold on. Ethan King?” she asks tentatively.

Colton nods. “Taught me blocking like no coach ever has.”

I look at him in surprise, but he’s still looking at her. “No way,” she says, her eyes like saucers on me. “The Ethan King who took us to Nationals?”

“The one and only,” Colton answers.

“Coach will be stoked to know you’re in town. Can I tell him?”

“Coach Randall?” I can’t believe he’s still around. Ten years is a lifetime for me. I suppose at his age, it’s nothing. “He must be what—a hundred years old?”

The girl laughs. “I won’t tell him you said that.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.”

“He’d have me benched. But hey, you’ll come to the Arena, right? Do some training with us? We have preseason camp soon.”

Being pulled into my hometown’s life is exactly what I don’t want. Just as I bought a bike to prevent me from settling in the Yankee part of the country if I can help it, I gave myself a hard rule of not sticking around too long. Not getting sucked in.

“I’ll probably be gone, but if I can, I’ll stop by.” I don’t want to crush her hopes.

“Cool. I’ll tell Coach,” the girl says as she saunters back to the bay, pulling her phone from her pocket.

Ah shit. I guess there’s no getting around saying hello to the old man. And what’s wrong with that, anyway? Except that I was hoping to make my stay here painless. Absent of memories. I’m not big on nostalgic reunions.

The girl comes back running to us. “Mister K, can I get a selfie?” She nudges herself against me, holding her phone at arm’s length.

Colton frowns. “You don’t have to, man.”

I smile toward the phone while the girl takes several pictures. I’m not used to fake-smiling—or smiling—and my cheeks kinda hurt.

“Thanks!” The girl runs back to the bay and shouts out to Colton. “Boss, gonna start on the Bronco!”

“Not without me you’re not. Be just a sec.”

“I should go,” I say.

“It’s okay. She’s just messing with me. Funny girl.”

“She looks familiar. Do I know her?”

Colton shrugs. “I doubt it—she’s barely fifteen. Tracy Prescott. Big family. They live above Chandler’s Knoll. Dad’s with Fish and Game.”

I suppose I know the family. That’s what life in a small town is like. Everyone’s linked one way or another. You can’t step foot anywhere without meeting someone you know.

The feeling sits uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. On base, people come and go all the time. You quickly learn to make new friends or risk having no friends at all. You’re also free to feed them whatever backstory you make up for your own sorry life, and no one cares if you’re pretending to be who you’re not, as long as you do an honest job and buy a round of beers every once in a while.

Here, there’s no escaping who you are. Your past. Your present actions. People’s opinions on what your future should look like. Who you’re with, who you should be with, and especially—especially—who you shouldn’t be with.

I roll out of Colton’s garage on an empty promise of a beer together, feeling a little bit like a jerk. Why did I need to tell him about not wanting to settle here? And why did I agree to a beer at my brother’s pub, when I know darn well I’m going to find an excuse to get out of it? The last thing I want is to hear about his sister, and she’s bound to come up in conversation if we share a drink.

I take the long way alongside the river, down Deweys’ Hollow. I thought this would be a fun bike ride—and it is—but fuck. So many memories suddenly resurfacing.

Heading back into the village through the covered bridge, I notice how the downtown looks busier than I expected. There’s a banner across main street announcing the town fair this Saturday, and another one congratulating Christopher Wright for being New England’s Best Baker. Shit, Chris won New England’s Best Baker? That’s huge. Colton must be proud of his cousin.

Main street is crawling with stop-and-go traffic and jaywalkers. A car pulls out of a parking spot in front of a flower shop where the video store used to be.

I slide in and minutes later, I’m walking out with a gorgeous bouquet that set me back… a lot. But hey. I’ve missed so many of Mom’s birthdays, I can splurge a little.

“Well if it isn’t Ethan King in the flesh!”

I look down to the petite woman in a modest flowery dress. “Ms. Angela!” I bend down to hug her, the instinct strong, then hesitate. Is it appropriate to hug your third-grade teacher?

“Come here, you big goof!” She takes me in a strong hug that surprises me. “Are these for me? Why, you shouldn’t have,” she says, laughing.

I laugh with her. “They’re for Ma.”

She frowns. “She didn’t mention you were coming.”

“It’s a surprise,” I confirm.

She rolls her eyes and looks around, at the line in front of the ice cream place—now expanded to cover the corner of the block— at the patrons going in and out of the general store—looking spiffy with fresh paint and overflowing window boxes—at the people sifting through boxes of books on sale in front of the bookshop. “Well, if you want to keep this a surprise, you should get there before she hears it from someone else.” She gives me a friendly tap on the arm. “I’ll see you later!”

By the time I get to the farm, I’ve seen a new coffee shop, a sign for the hotel I didn’t even know we had, the bookshop with a new, weird name, my brother Justin’s pub, packed with patrons at their outdoor seating, and a restaurant right next to it that I don’t remember. There are signs for a hot dog shack, the local history museum, an art exhibit, a summer fair, numerous kids’ camps.

The town is hopping and nothing like I remember it. It makes me happy and vaguely unsettled at the same time. Like there’s something important that I’m missing.

After the covered bridge, it’s a familiar ride up to the farm on a winding road that’s fucking fun on a bike. King Knoll’s Farm soon spreads ahead, and a gentle hum takes ahold of me.

It’s about time I’m able to come back here and visit.

Even if I’ll never live here, it’ll be nice to feel normal when I come.

Although I never wanted to work on the farm, even if I’ve been gone too long, I still want to be part of the family again. I’m done being a loner. I have three brothers and a sister who all but idolize me. A mom and dad who adore me.

I have no business staying away any longer.

Case in point. I hear Mom’s shrieks of pure happiness the minute I take my helmet off. She runs to me and lunges into my arms, and I twirl her around.

You’d think I’d gone to war or something.

“Awww…” she says, at a loss for words, pinching my cheeks. She searches my eyes, and I know she’s wondering. She’s wondering if I’m here by accident, or if I remembered her birthday.

She still thinks I’m disconnected from the family. From her.

I grab the flowers from the saddle pocket and shove them into her hands. “Happy Birthday, Mom.” Then I step back, prepared to memorize her look of disbelief and bliss and gratefulness all mixed together as she goes through the different stages a mother, I suppose, experiences at the return of the prodigal son.

“Bir…?” She looks at the flowers. At me. Squints. Tucks her nose in the flowers. “Mmm. They smell good. Why, thank you!” Then she tucks her arm under mine and takes us up the front porch. “Craig, guess who’s here!” she says, shoving the flowers in a dark corner of the kitchen.

“Well, looks who’s here,” Dad echoes, taking me into a brief hug and slapping my back. “Why didn’t you call? What brings you here?” His eyes are dancing. At least he’s happy.

“Ma’s birthday,” I proudly announce.

“Who wants lemonade?” Ma butts in.

“Your Ma’s birthday, huh? Which one?”

Oh fuck. This isn’t good. Maybe it’s a test? “Her…big one?” I’m pretty sure Mom is turning fifty this year. Does she not want to celebrate? Shit.

Dad chuckles, crosses his arms, and bounces on his heels. “You missed it.”

“Oh f—darn.” I glance at Mom, who’s arranging the flowers in a vase now. “Sorry—was it last week?”

Dad is having a field day. “It was last winter. January. But since you’re here, you could stay ‘til her next birthday.”

Mom looks up, hopeful.

“Next January?” I ask stupidly.

“That’s typically how birthdays work. Come back like clockwork on the same day every year.”

Mom sets the vase on the dining table, then hugs me. “I don’t care, honey. Long’s you”re here, I’m happy.” She tilts her head back, her eyes brimming with true joy.

I hug her tighter. “Well, Happy Wednesday,” I say and feel her laugh against my chest.

Her voice returns muffled. “Happiest Wednesday ever.”

Minutes later, we’re seated on the front porch, sipping lemonade in stem glasses—“because it’s my birthday,” Mom said. “Now, tell us all about what you been up to,” she adds.

And I do. I catch them up from our last long phone call, up to now, when I’m between assignments.

“So what’s next?” Dad asks.

“I requested orders for a billet at Hulbert Field.” I don’t tell them that’s my second choice. My first choice, I don’t get to request it. I’d be tapped on the shoulder. I’d be fucking great at it, but the brass will think I’m too young. Mom frowns. “Hulbert Field?”

I nod. “Florida.”

“Florida?!” she beams. “Why that’s closer than Germany! Still the crypto thingy?”

“Yep. Cryptanalysis and SINGINT.”

“I bet you’re great at it.”

I nod. “I am.” I’m fucking great at it. No reason not to say it.

I’m proud of what I’m doing. I’ve always wanted to do the right thing. To have an impact. That’s why I joined the Air Force.

“No way you could do that with the Green Mountain Boys, huh?’ she asks, referring to the Air National Guard in Burlington.

Dad does the chin lift.

“Nah, they specialize in combat. Look, end of the day, I’ll go where I’m needed. I can tell you as much, I won’t be needed here.” My last words ring awkwardly, at least to me. I don’t know if Mom and Dad ever fully understood why I left, back in the day. How I felt I had let my family down, messed up so spectacularly I had no other option than to leave and enlist in order to finally do something useful. I’ve come around since then.

Mom stands and gathers our empty glasses. “Well, Hulbert would be stupid not to hire you,” she says before going back inside.

The landline trills, then Mom’s distant voice reaches us.

Dad crosses his arms and squints at me. “Proud of ya. Even if Florida is… kinda far.”

“Same time zone. And I’d have a guest room.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Florida. For your mother’s birthday.”

I tilt my head and smile. “Florida in January. You gotta admit. Better’n Vermont.”

“Warmer,” Dad concedes.

That afternoon, I join my siblings—Justin, Haley, Logan, and Hunter—at Clark’s Meadow, where the town fair is being held this upcoming weekend. Everyone who can is helping to set up tents. My brothers and sister throw themselves at me, and before I can get too emotional, I ask them what to do.

We end up erecting tents for hours, setting up a base for bleachers that haven’t been delivered yet, and lining up porta-potties.

I make it sound like it was a pain in the neck, but honestly? Best fun I’ve had in years.

We get home just in time for my brothers to take care of a few chores while Mom makes a fuss about settling me in the new guest room they arranged in the finished basement.

My childhood bedroom has been turned into an office. The pine shelf running across the small end of the room where I had my trophies and my favorite books is now stacked with accounting binders. With the way I left, I’m not going to ask where my stuff is.

When I get out of the shower, the waft of pot roast hits a tender spot. I surprise Mom in the kitchen, grab her from behind and give her a quick hug. “You remembered that’s my favorite dish, or is that your Wednesday night special?”

“It is not a Wednesday night special.” She turns to face me, her eyes misty. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it.

“I’ll set the table,” I say to clear the moment. I need to occupy myself or else stuff is going to start choking me. Stuff like missing books and pot roast and how some things change—like people—and others never do—like feelings.

Haley joins us, followed by Justin. His huge dog, Moose, sprawls with a sigh on the porch as we take our seats around the farmhouse table. The whole King family is around the table for the first time in a very long time.

“So,” Justin says once we start digging in our heaping plates, “How long you here for this time?”

I finish my mouth, wipe my lips, rinse the pot roast with beer. “It’s kinda open right now. Don’t have a timeline yet.”

Mom gasps, Haley freezes with her glass of wine midair, and my three brothers stop their chewing.

Dad rubs his nose. “You can stay here as long as you like. I’ll keep you busy.”

I know what he means. He’s disappointed I never considered working on the farm, but I think—I hope—deep down he understands where I’m coming from. The need to be useful in a grand way.

Mom shrieks and drops her fork. “Ohmygod, my baby is staying!” she says and for some reason, everyone laughs.

“Mom—I just said, I didn’t know how long I was staying.”

Mom waves my comment away. “That’s a good start. A very good start.”

Seeing the need to redirect the general conversation, Dad turns to Haley to discuss some wine making production of some sort that she wants to start on the farm. Turns out, she has a whole business plan, with projections and market research. She also works on the farm and at my brother Justin’s pub in town. I’m impressed by her drive.

Once dinner is over, I stand to clear dishes alongside my siblings. “Thanks for dinner, Ma.”

Mom and Dad follow us into the kitchen. With seven of us, we’re done cleaning in no time. “That was fast. You finally got everyone trained,” I joke, my memory pulling up endless arguments over who was supposed to do what, ended by Dad’s threats that whoever didn’t help wouldn’t get fed the next meal. My joke falls flat, my siblings clearly having no idea what I’m talking about. Or choosing to ignore it entirely.

“I forgot how the days were so long here in the summer,” I say to change the conversation but really end up pointing out how much I’ve forgotten about my hometown. And I’m sorry if it hurts their feelings, I didn’t mean it that way, but I still stand by my choice of living my life on different terms.

Dad stores the broom away. “Makes up for the short season. More hours in the day to fit in the work.”

“Let’s go to the Growler,” Logan declares, maybe to change the conversation, but more probably because he does have an itch to go out. He and Hunter are men now. They were the babies in the family, but now they’re almost as tall as me and just as strong, if not stronger, judging by the work they did on the fairgrounds today. At dinner, they asked me a dozen questions about my job, life on base, and my next steps, before giving Mom and Dad a full recap of everything that should be done differently for the fair and could Mom just talk to the Events Committee about having axe throwing next year?

“I’m out,” Haley says. “You guys have fun.”

“Aww come on, Haley,” Hunter insists. “Let’s go and find you a decent boyfriend.”

“With you as my sidekicks? No thank you.”

I follow up with Dad’s last comment before chiming in. “Need me to do something?”

“Nah. Workday’s over. You go have a beer with your brothers. It’s not like they see you that often.” He doesn’t mean it like it’s a bad thing. He just says it as it is. And he’s right.

“Where’s that place you wanted to go?” I ask Logan.

“The Growler. It’s up in the hills. We can take Justin’s truck.”

“Why don’t we go to Lazy’s?” I’m anxious to see my brother’s pub, but I’d understand if that’s the last place he wants to go tonight. He took the night off, after all. Still, I add, “I wanna check it out.”

“Sure,” Justin says, holding in a smile, while Hunter and Logan shrug their okays.

“You okay, man?” I ask as we climb into his truck. Justin is the closest to me in age—four years younger. He’s also been mostly quiet all evening, except for a couple of questions for me.

He looks at me with a quick smile and shrugs. “Course. Why?”

I wonder if Dad’s insinuations about working on the farm got to him too. After all, he also bailed out of the family business to open the only pub in town, the Lazy Salamander. But I don’t want to get into that conversation with him. It seems useless. “Nothin’,” I answer, and he leaves it at that.

We park on The Green and push the large doors open when we get to the pub. The clatter of dozens of patrons eating and chatting mixed with background music pulls us in. Moose follows us and trots right to the office beyond the bar while Justin guides us to a booth.

Lazy’s is busy for a Wednesday night in small town America, but nothing that Justin’s staff can’t handle. His place is large, with high ceilings and dark wood paneling, yet it feels comfortable and homey. It could be the black-and-white photos of locals on the walls, or maybe the dim lighting from the small lamps next to each table. More probably, because of the easy banter that greets us when we walk in.

As soon as we’re seated, a round of beers appears on our table, and our server leaves immediately. We sprawl on the comfortable seats, just happy to be together.

“Wow, that’s a rare sight.” I look up to the soft-spoken man about my age standing at the top of our table.

Shit! “Noah, man!” I stand and we back slap each other. He tilts his chin at my brothers. Memories of AP Math and cramming together in high school mingle with earlier ones of sharing candy in the back of his family’s general store.

“Saw you roll into town earlier, and I couldn’t believe it. Figured I’d come here to find out.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, and warmth spreads through me at the familiar gesture. Noah was the self-assured nerd among us, but being in Emerald Creek, he was outdoorsy, too, and from the looks of him, he still is. “I’ll let you catch up with your brothers, but before you leave, you better come in to the store and tell me all about your life, yeah?”

I nod. “I will.”

“Cryptanalysis,” he adds with a huge smile. “Damn you.”

I laugh. “I’ll catch up with you, promise.”

The rest of the evening goes by quickly, with people stopping by to greet me and comment about the four King brothers being together.

We get back to the farm around midnight. Hunter and Logan crash right away. Justin lingers, not leaving yet. I take two bottles of beer out of the fridge, making a mental note to go to the store tomorrow and stock up. I’ll have to borrow a car.

Didn’t think about that when I bought the bike.

We sit on the porch, his big-ass dog at our feet. “So fucking proud of you,” I finally tell him after a long silence.

He turns his head to me, bottle midair. “Proud of what?”

I state the obvious. “The way you rebuilt your life. The way you created something for this whole town.”

He stares at me. “Anybody did something good with his life, it’s you, man. I just sell beer.”

He takes a long pull on his beer, then looks away to the dark fields. “Aren’t you tired of running away?” he asks softly. With compassion, not accusation. I know what he’s talking about. That night that changed everything. When he almost died because of something I did, and the next morning I still left.

But I’ve learned to forgive myself. And I know Justin carries guilt for that night too. He was wounded, but someone died. “What about you?” I ask him. It was hard not to notice, even from a distance, the electricity coursing between him and a pretty brunette on the fairgrounds. Yet he didn’t introduce her to me, and no one brought her up at dinner.

“What about me?”

Maybe I shouldn’t broach that topic now. I don’t know where he is, mentally. I just got back. “You ever think of settling down?”

“Settling down?”

“Yeah. Having what Mom and Dad have. That sounds pretty awesome to me. You?”

“I—I can’t do that. Not after what happened. Not after what I did to you. It’s just not gonna happen.”

I reel back in shock. “Fuck man, what are you talking about?” I look at him, not sure where to even start. “I ran away like a fucking coward when you were in the hospital. I barely knew if you were gonna make it. I can’t believe you never said anything about that. I failed you.” Moose sets his big head on my lap. “But you know what? I forgave myself. I was just a kid. I was scared. I messed up. People mess up, bro. The only thing to do is pick up the pieces and keep going.”

“Yeah, except not everyone got to do that.”

He’s talking about the girl who died in the car crash. The one I pushed away, and he picked up. I was selfishly focusing on other stuff, and I did feel guilty, at the time. All the what-ifs. But not anymore. “It wasn’t your fault. You almost died to save her. You did everything you could, and more.”

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have… driven her home.”

Fuck. I barely got here, and I have to talk about that night again. And of course I do. It was the night Justin almost died, and the next morning I still left.

Mom and Dad made it clear that I shouldn’t thwart my own plans because of the accident. I was scheduled to start officer training at Maxwell Air Force Base in the next few days. It was enough they had one son whose life was on hold; they didn’t want me to give up on my dream career. And so after some negotiating, I left once we knew for sure Justin was out of the woods and it was all about a long, painful recovery for him. “It’s so unfair to him,” I’d told Mom.

“That’s why I need you to go and have the life he won’t have. You owe it to him.”

And fuck, but my mother telling me these words to help me cope, nearly killed me with guilt. And anger. And powerlessness. All these emotions fighting to bring me down. The guilt was the strongest, and in my young mind, it felt as if my mother couldn’t stand the sight of me. As if she knew that if I’d acted differently, Justin wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed. As if it was painted all over my face.

I tried to tell her, tell them—Mom and Dad—I said, “I should’ve—” but Dad cut me off. “Don’t go there, son,” he’d simply stated, and he never elaborated, so I drew my own conclusions.

Don’t go there, or your mother won’t stand the sight of you.

Don’t go there, or you’ll carry the burden of your brother’s injuries.

Don’t go there, it’s too late to do anything now.

Don’t go there, but don’t stay here either.

Just go. Leave.

Leave us.

They never said any of that, of course, and possibly they didn’t think this way either. But in my young mind, that’s how it went.

It didn’t help that it was also the night the only girl I ever loved broke my heart. In a way, it made it easier to leave Emerald Creek. I could hide my guilt and forget my pain.

I’d make myself as scarce as possible to my family so they didn’t have to stare in the eye the person who could have, should have, prevented Justin’s accident. And I was never going to see her again.

I never talked about my breakup to anyone in the years that followed, because it would seem so trivial compared to the drama they’ve all endured. But tonight, even that pain, as petty as it is, digs acutely in my chest. It is so petty, and I am over it, but reliving that night makes the pain raw again, these two wounds of unequal importance hurting me almost equally.

But I’m here with my brother, and I can do something for him. “We were kids, Justin. You were a baby. But if you want to go down that road, then—you… you did right by her. She came to the party to find me. I should have been looking out for her.” The truth is, she came to the party to cause trouble. I took care of it. Who could predict the chain of events that would unfold?

“What do you mean? She was your girlfriend. I hit on your girlfriend. I took her home to get lucky and—”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend. I didn’t even know where she lived. We’d hooked up once before, and I’d called it off. Then she came onto me a little strong at the party, and I told her off a little strong too. There was nothing between us.”

Justin seems lost. “I thought… I thought… I thought that’s why you never came back.”

“Nah, she wasn’t the one,” I feel necessary to say, handing him another beer. Trying not to think about the girl who broke my heart. We sit for a while, talking about the girl who died in the crash—who he almost gave his life for, trying to save her. We talk about her parents too. And about the guy who crashed his car into theirs.

I try to dole out a little bit of wisdom without acting like an older brother know-it-all, which I definitely am not. I might feel like I’m in an okay place right now, but I could be wrong. But hey, I’ll do anything for my brother. For the little time that I’m here, the least I can do is fix some of the stuff I broke.

We talk a little longer about the accident, and then we call it a night, Justin sleeping on the couch on account of too many beers.

The next couple of days, I stay at the farm, helping Dad fix fences and adjust a wobbly barn door.

Then Saturday, I go to the fair, thinking it’s going to be just another day in small town America. Which, in a way, it is.

And in another way, it rocks me to my core.