Thirty-Four
thirty-four
HERE WITHOUT YOU - 3 DOORS DOWN
OWEN - MAY 28, 2014
T he rhythmic clank of metal pipes echoes through the shop as I tighten another valve, my hands moving mechanically while my mind is somewhere far away. Barrett’s face keeps flashing in my head, his bright, hopeful eyes as he stood at the door last weekend, asking if I’d be at his first T-ball game. The memory punches me in the gut every time it surfaces.
I promised him I’d try to make it, but here I am instead, miles away, wrench in hand. The Columbus Junction project is demanding enough, but now we’ve got the investors for the West Haven Ranch breathing down our necks. They want the work done within the next few months, and it’s my job to make sure that happens.
The weight of it all presses on my chest like a boulder, but none of it matters right now. Not when I know Barrett is looking for me in the stands, and I’m not there. His first T-ball game, and I’m missing it. What if he thinks I didn’t care enough to show up? The thought alone is enough to make my stomach churn. I twist the wrench harder than necessary, my jaw clenched tight.
“Hey, you good?” Will’s voice cuts through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. He’s leaning against the workbench, his brow furrowed as he watches me.
“Fine,” I mutter, though the word feels hollow. I tighten the valve one last time and set the wrench down, avoiding his gaze.
“Yeah, sure you are,” he says, crossing his arms. “You’ve been on edge all morning. What’s going on?”
I hesitate, dragging a hand over my face. Will knows me well enough to see through the lie, so there’s no point pretending. “It’s Barrett,” I admit, my voice low. “His first T-ball game is today. I told him I’d try to be there, but…”
Will nods, his face softening. “That’s rough, man. First games are a big deal.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not there, am I?” I snap, more harshly than I mean to. I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “Sorry. It’s just—this job, it’s important, but it feels like I’m missing everything that matters.”
“You’re doing what you have to,” Will replies. “Barrett knows you love him. He’ll understand.”
“Does he?” I shoot back, my voice sharp with frustration. “Because all he sees is me not showing up. What kind of dad does that make me?”
Will sighs, leaning back against the bench. “Look, I get it, but you’ve got a lot riding on this job. West Haven’s investors aren’t exactly known for their patience, and if we don’t hit these deadlines…”
“I know,” I cut him off, my tone clipped. “Believe me, I know. But try telling Barrett that the reason I missed his first game is because a bunch of suits want their steam lines done faster.”
Will doesn’t say anything, just claps a hand on my shoulder in silent support. It helps, but only a little. The truth is, I feel like I’m being pulled in a hundred different directions, and no matter where I turn, I’m letting someone down.
By the time the workday ends, I pull out my phone, already dreading what I might see. Sure enough, there’s a text from Sabrina telling me Barrett got a hit.
The air rushes out of my lungs as I read it. My thumbs hover over the screen before I type out a reply: Tell him I’m proud of him. I’ll call him tonight.
I shove the phone back in my pocket, the guilt clawing at my chest. Barrett got a hit. He looked for me. I wasn’t there.
The drive home feels endless, each mile a reminder of the choices I’ve made and the sacrifices that come with them. When I pull into the driveway, Callie’s car is there, and the lights are on in the house. I know I should feel relief, gratitude even, but all I feel is torn.
What if I’d stayed in Cedar Bluff instead of moving to Hawkridge? What if I’d found a place closer to Barrett, where I could be there for games and school events and the little moments that matter? The thought twists in my gut, and for a split second, I wonder if I made the wrong choice.
Then I step inside, and the chaos of home greets me—Sara’s drawings on the fridge, Ruby cooing in her swing, and Callie’s voice humming softly from the kitchen. It grounds me in a way nothing else can, reminding me why I chose this life, why I moved here in the first place. Being with Callie makes me happy in a way I never thought possible. She’s my home, my family, and I wouldn’t change anything about the way we came to be.
Still, the ache of missing Barrett’s game lingers. I feel like I’m straddling two lives and falling short in both. I want to be there for him the way I’m here for Callie and the girls, but I don’t know how to make it work. Not yet.
I pull my phone from my pocket and step into the quiet of the den, my heart tightening as I scroll to Sabrina’s number. The thought of hearing Barrett’s voice is the only thing keeping me steady right now. I hit call, pacing the room as it rings.
“Hello?” Sabrina answers, her tone light but tired.
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Can I talk to Barrett?”
“Of course. Hang on.” There’s a muffled rustling, and then Barrett’s voice fills the line.
“Dad?” he says, excitement lacing his words.
“Hey, bud!” My chest loosens, the sound of his voice like a balm. “How’d the game go?”
“I hit the ball!” he exclaims, and I can hear the pride in his voice. “And I ran to first base, and then second! Everybody cheered. It was so cool!”
My throat tightens as I picture him standing on the field, his little face lighting up with excitement. “That’s amazing, Barrett! I’m so proud of you, buddy. I knew you’d crush it out there.”
“Did you see it?” he asks, his voice softer now, hopeful.
The question hits me square in the chest. I swallow hard, forcing myself to answer. “I didn’t, bud. I’m so sorry. Work ran late, and I couldn’t get there in time. But I promise I’ll be at your next game, okay?”
There’s a pause, and my heart clenches at the thought of him being disappointed. But then he says, “It’s okay, Dad. Mommy said you were working really hard.”
“Yeah, I am,” I say, my voice thick. “But I’m always thinking about you, Barrett. Always. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” he says, his tone lighter now. “Oh! And I got a trophy! Mommy said I could put it on my shelf.”
“That’s awesome, bud. You earned it,” I tell him, wishing more than anything that I could’ve been there to see him hold it up with that big, proud grin of his.
We talk for a few more minutes, Barrett rattling off every detail of the game—how the coach high-fived him, how he slid into second base even though he didn’t have to, and how his team got pizza after. Each word is a bittersweet reminder of what I missed, but hearing his happiness eases the sting.
When he finally says, “Okay, I gotta go,” I smile, even though my heart aches.
“Okay, bud. I love you so much,” I tell him.
“Love you too, Dad!” he says before the line goes dead.
I lower the phone, staring at the blank screen for a moment. As much as I love this life with Callie and the girls, there’s no escaping the fact that part of me is missing whenever I’m not with him. The distance between us is getting harder to bear.
I step back into the kitchen, where Callie is kneeling next to Ruby’s play mat, gently wiping her chubby cheeks with a soft cloth. Ruby giggles, the sound light and pure, as Callie murmurs something to her, her voice soft and full of love. The sight makes my chest tighten, a bittersweet mix of gratitude and guilt.
Callie looks up at me, her green eyes immediately honing in on my expression. Her laughter fades, replaced by concern. “Everything okay?” she asks, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans. Her voice is gentle, but it holds that edge of knowing, like she can see right through me.
I nod, forcing a smile that feels wrong, too tight on my face. “Yeah,” I say, the word heavy and hollow. “Barrett’s happy. That’s what matters.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. She steps closer, her hand on my arm, the warmth of her touch grounding me even as it threatens to unravel everything I’m holding back. “You’re a great dad, Owen,” she says, her voice steady, full of conviction. “Don’t forget that.”
Her words hit me like a lifeline, but they also twist that ache in my chest that refuses to go away. I want to believe her, but the weight of everything I’m not doing, everything I’m missing, crushes me like a lead blanket.
“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. I reach up to rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension that’s settled there. No matter how much I try to push it down, the guilt and the doubt gnaw at me relentlessly.
Callie watches me, her brows knitting together as she searches my face. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for more than I’m ready to give, but her silence feels like an invitation, a space for me to say what’s really on my mind. The problem is, I don’t know how to say it.
I glance at Ruby, now babbling happily on the mat, her tiny hands grasping at the air. Sara’s crayons and drawings are scattered across the table, the evidence of the life we’ve built here, one filled with love and laughter and all the chaos that comes with raising two little girls. Part of me feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
“I just…” I start, then stop, my throat tightening. Callie tilts her head, waiting patiently, and the openness in her expression makes me want to spill everything. How do I tell her what’s been eating at me without making it sound like I regret this? Because I don’t. Not for a second.
“What is it?” she asks softly, her hand sliding down my arm to take my hand. Her fingers intertwine with mine, her grip gentle and firm, like she’s trying to anchor me.
I take a breath, the words sticking in my throat. “I hate that I missed his game,” I finally say. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s part of it—a piece I can offer without unraveling everything.
Her face softens, and she squeezes my hand. “I know,” she says. “But Barrett knows you love him, Owen. He knows how hard you’re working.”
“But is that enough?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it. My voice cracks, the vulnerability sharp and raw. “Is it enough for him to just know? Because I’m not there, Callie. I’m not there for the games, or the school pickups, or the bedtime stories. Every time I miss something, I feel like I’m failing him.”
Her eyes fill with empathy, and she steps closer, her other hand coming up to rest on my chest. “You’re not failing him,” she says, her voice firm. “You’re doing everything you can. And when you can’t be there, he’s surrounded by people who love him and remind him how much you love him too.”
I nod, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen. The truth is, it’s not just about the missed moments—it’s about the distance. The constant push and pull between the life I have here and the life I’m trying to hold on to with Barrett. As much as I want to keep it all together, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.
I glance at Callie, the woman who’s turned my world upside down in the best possible way. The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. The question that’s been haunting me for weeks rises again, unbidden: Am I asking too much of her? Should we build a life here, when every part of me is being pulled back to Cedar Bluff? Would she want to move, for me?
I press a kiss to her forehead, holding her close for a moment. Her arms wrap around me, her warmth seeping into the cracks I’ve been trying to hold together. “I love you,” I whisper, the words carrying all the weight of everything I can’t say.
“I love you too,” she replies, her voice soft and steady.
I close my eyes, letting myself breathe her in, letting the chaos quiet for just a moment.I am struggling with this, but one thing is clear: I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose her, but the thought of bringing up the possibility of moving, of asking her to uproot her life for me and Barrett—it feels impossible.