Chapter 28
Byron
Mud caked the ground, but Byron still lowered himself to a squat and eventually seated himself on what was once a field of wildflowers. They’d been beautiful only a few weeks ago. But the change the flood had brought with it was more visibly apparent here than anywhere else.
Stretching his neck, Byron looked up at his late wife’s old windmill.
Thanks mostly to the work Byron and Tucker had done to reinforce the supports, it had survived.
The posts needed to be double-checked as the ground started to dry more, but for now, it was good.
Byron could focus his clean-up efforts elsewhere.
The mooing from the cows up in the high paddock could be heard even from down here.
What had been a small space for them two weeks ago likely felt overly crowded by now, especially after he returned Betty, the wildest cow of them all, to the herd earlier.
Byron would have to get to work fixing up one of the larger paddocks.
A few moments of peace wouldn’t hurt, though.
Byron had come out to the windmill as soon as he could.
He always found a kind of serenity when he sat in the grass in the shade of Josie’s favourite glorified lawn ornament, but when he saw it standing today, something else had washed over him.
It was cool despite the warm sun on his neck, and made his pulse race even as he sat calmly on the grass.
An intense readiness had smothered all the worry out of him.
After Josie had passed, Byron had come to accept the fact that he would likely die alone.
He had figured that he’d had his great love story.
It was someone else’s turn now. He never expected to find love again, let alone a love as wholly consuming as the one he had with Emory.
They shared something that ran far deeper than the lust-filled attraction he had assumed was all she felt.
It was as though their souls had been tied together all along, every moment in their lives leading them to this point, to be together.
They’d make it work. They’d have to.
Byron was still hopeful she’d finish her degree and find a remote job so she could stay in town. Even though he knew the chances were slim. Regardless, it was beyond time they had a proper chat about the future he hoped they could share.
He looked up at the windmill one last time, muttering a thanks to his late wife for giving him the last bit of courage he needed.
“Mum’s windmill survived, then.”
Byron jolted from his near meditative state at Tucker’s voice. He’d been so lost in his own head, he hadn’t heard the quad bike approaching. Pushing to stand, he swatted away the biggest chunks of mud on his old jeans. They were made to get dirty anyway.
“She’d be thankful,” he said as he turned to his son.
Tucker’s blond hair was getting long. He pushed it off his face and tucked a little behind his ear. His hand lingered on his cheek, scratching at the grown-out stubble. He looked … Byron wasn’t sure what the most appropriate word was. Rough, maybe? Unkempt.
Byron wondered how things were with Mya, now that the flood had cleared.
If the uneasy way she and Tucker had fallen into living together had settled now that they could spend some time apart.
They were both still young. They had time to sort their shit out and Byron hoped that they would.
It would do Tucker good, not to be alone.
They’d all been alone far too long, and Byron was ready for that to change for all of them.
The gnawing in his gut returned as Tucker moved to stand on Byron’s left.
They looked up at the windmill, and a collective sigh rolled through their bodies.
Byron contemplated it all. There was a distinct emptiness on his right side, one he suspected might never feel filled again.
The previous day with Jaxon near proved it.
Byron hated the way his eldest son made his blood boil, and he’d always be around when Jaxon finally decided he was ready to live up to the Gardner name again, but Byron suspected that wouldn’t be for a long while yet.
He wasn’t sure what went wrong with Jaxon, to lead him to skipping town on his partner and kid and family.
But he was done trying to blame himself. Jaxon made his own choices.
In the corner of his eye, Byron saw Tucker cross his arms over his chest. With his eyes closed, Tucker looked peaceful. His loose, unbuttoned flannel flapped against his back, fighting the wind.
Did he know his brother was back in town?
After all, Tucker had been into town a few times and hadn’t been restricted to his own property.
Byron would have to ask. After Emory, Tucker had taken Jaxon’s swift departure the hardest. Still living with Byron at the time, Tucker had not been able to comprehend how his brother could just …
leave. Without saying goodbye or letting them know what his plan was.
Byron and Tucker had found out from Emory when she’d called, asking if they knew where Jaxon was.
If it wasn’t for the scribbled note he left on the counter at the cottage, they’d probably still be wondering, fearing he was dead.
Tucker had been a wreck. Despite all the evidence it had been Jaxon’s incompetence as a father that led to his leaving, Tucker blamed himself somehow.
He’d looked up to his brother, and without that role model, he was lost. He’d holed up in his room, trying over and over to reach out to Jaxon—all to no avail.
Byron could still remember the way his voice cracked as Tucker had pondered if he could have helped more, done more, to make Jaxon want to stay.
It took a long time, and a lot of convincing, for the teenager to accept that there was nothing he could have done. Still, Byron wasn’t sure how Tucker would handle his brother suddenly showing up in town.
Even more so, he wasn’t sure how exactly Jaxon would react to Byron’s decision to hand the farm solely over to Tucker.
It didn’t matter though; Jaxon could act as piss poorly about it as he wanted for all Byron cared.
The decision was made. Truthfully, he’d made it a while back.
He just hadn’t acknowledged it yet. He probably needed to check it all over with the lawyer, though.
Now that he had, he had to figure out how best to tell his sons.
“Suppose we should go let your cows out?” Tucker asked, nudging his shoulder against Byron’s.
“Need to fix all the fences first. And the gates. Probably clear some mud first and see if we can find grass for the beauties to stand on.”
It was a long list of cleanup. No wonder his dad had called it quits.
He’d loaded everything they needed into the trailer of his tractor before leaving the shed earlier.
A few fresh rolls of barbed wire, a lot of new posts, bags of cement, shovels and all the rest. It was going to be a long day, and he was glad Tucker had shown up to help.
As the flood cleared further, he’d be able to call his farm hands back to work, but for now, Tucker was all he had.
They’d barely made it around the length of one paddock before the afternoon chill began to hit the air.
Almost every post needed fixing in some way.
The good ones needed a nudge in the right direction and a little more cement around the base.
The bad ones needed to be torn out completely with brand new posts erected and barbed wire wrapped around.
The flood had wiped out almost everything.
It was good, in a way, because the strenuous labour had stopped Byron’s mind from spiralling the way it had been all morning. Didn’t take away from the fact that he still had a lot of conversations to have, but it was nice not to think about them all for a while.
The stench from the muddy paddocks followed them back to the big shed.
It was like the putrid smell of manure turned all the way up, with a dash of mould.
Byron had been able to ignore it at first, but it still lingered.
Thankfully, the hay stacked at the back of the big shed had managed to stay dry.
It still had a sweet, grassy scent that was a welcome relief as Byron got to work unloading the trailer.
Tucker followed him into the shed after parking his quad bike under the carport.
“Did you know,” he called out as he stepped into the wide space. His voice echoed from the high ceiling. “Jaxon’s back in town?”
Byron stilled. So Tucker did know. He turned to face his son, trying to read the expression on his face.
His cheeks were a little red from the sun and wind, but nothing about him expressed anything other than indifference.
Byron grunted an acknowledgement that sounded a little like “I know,” and shrugged his shoulders.
“I saw him at the supermarket, but he took one look at me and turned the other way.”
Sounds like Jaxon, running off instead of facing his problems. Byron was surprised he’d managed to make it to the farmhouse at all.
“When was this?”
“Yesterday, late afternoon.”
Hm, made sense.
Byron squared his shoulders, dropping the end of a shovel to the ground to lean on the handle. “He came here. Don’t think he was happy with what he saw.”
“Oh, God, Dad, what did he see?”
“Nothing bad. But he didn’t like that Emory was here. With me. Apparently, when he kicked her out of the cottage, he failed to consider that there wouldn’t be many other places in town for her to go.”
Tucker got to work unhooking the trailer from the tractor, thick metal chains clattering to the ground as he unscrewed the pins.
For a second, Byron thought Tucker had moved on from the conversation, but as the last chain fell, he stood up.
One foot hitched up on the A-frame of the trailer, he leant forward to rest his forearm on his knee.
“You know Jaxon best out of all of us. Do you really think he thought about where Emory would go?”
“Of course not. He was only thinking about himself. It’s all he ever does.”
“Did you stop to think about why he might be kicking her out of the cottage?”
Byron rocked one shoulder up in a shrug. “Em said he mentioned his money had run dry. I suspect he had nowhere else to go.”
Tucker ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his face before he continued.
“He needed somewhere to fall back to. The last thing on his mind was where his ex was going to go, but I doubt it ever would have crossed his mind that she’d come here.
You and Emory are adults, and I’m just happy to see you smiling again, Dad.
But she’s his ex, and you’re his dad. It was never going to be an easy conversation. ”
Tucker was right, and Byron’s shoulders sank forward.
Jaxon might have done some shitty things but then again, lately, so had Byron.
He should have known that his relationship with Emory would drive a bigger wedge between himself and his son.
Hell, he had known. He’d been fighting this attraction with Emory from the moment he met her, and Byron knew deep in his bones that Jaxon’s disapproval wasn’t going to change how he felt.
But it was still going to sting a little.
There was probably a better way for Jaxon to find out, though.
With a sigh, he grabbed the last of the tools from the trailer and set them against the wall of the large shed.
His back and knees ached after the day’s labour, but now his heart felt heavy too.
His whole plan counted on Jaxon still choosing to be completely out of the picture.
He’d been na?ve, or maybe hopeful, to think Jaxon wouldn’t come back.
That thought did more than sting; it was a knife to the throat and made Byron choke on his sharp inhale.
Had he really wanted Jaxon to stay out of the picture forever?
No, he hadn’t wanted it, he was sure of that. He’d just expected it, and as a result, he’d come to count on it.
“Thanks for your help today.” He turned to face Tucker, trying to change the subject. To forget about his impossible decision and the worry of the future, for a moment at least. He knew that one look at Emory would make everything feel right again. He just needed to get to her.
Tucker shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, brow furrowed as he glared at Byron. “You really think you can just kick me out when you realise how fucked you are?”
“Sometimes I think you forget I’m your father.”
“Ha. So do you, apparently.” He took a few steps towards Byron, stopping short a few feet away to run a hand along his face.
“Look, Jaxon is Jaxon. But Emory is Emory. I can see what she’s done for you, and that’s not worth giving up.
Jaxon is either going to get over it and stick around, or he’ll fuck off again, and the only thing that will change is you being happy instead of being a grumpy old fucker all the time. ”
“There might be more that changes, though. She handed in her last assignment.”
“I figured.” Tucker stepped forward and wrapped an arm over Byron’s shoulders. He pulled Byron into the closest thing to resemble a hug the two had shared in a long time. He patted his fist against Byron’s back a few times before pulling back.
“You have a lot more cleaning up to do before I agree to anything, though.”