28. Storm #2
“Oh gosh, sweetheart, you know, my memory—it’s not what it used to be. What’s your kid’s name again? Milo?”
Ginger smacks his arm. “Oh I don’t know about that. Usually people mature with age,” she glowers.
He chuckles and winks. “All in good fun.”
When the conversation shifts to the ranch—expansion plans, repairs, prepping for winter—all topics I’m generally well-versed in, Silas checks out. And I don’t want him sitting through it on my behalf if he typically doesn’t.
I excuse myself, offering to clear the dishes and check on the kids, and Silas seems relieved to follow me.
“You all right?” I ask when we’re alone in the spacious kitchen.
He glances at me, giving me that unaffected golden boy, life-made smile. Like nothing can get him down.
Then lets it fade. For me. “Yeah,” he breathes. “This part’s usually easy—I let them get their punches in. Be the comic relief they all seem to need; but there was always a ticking clock for the moment I jump back in my car and go home.”
The word strikes against my chest but I don’t say anything.
“Can’t exactly do that now.”
I squeeze his hand despite the pain. “Do you know when you can?”
He shakes his head, the look on his face familiar somehow. Like this isn’t new to him. It’s just another reminder of where he’s always stood.
A pit forms in my stomach, and it makes me realize something too important to ignore. I’ve been so focused on him “leaving us” when he’s healed. Going back to what he’s always loved more than . . . any of us.
But I never considered what it costs him every time he comes back.
His brothers are still laughing over something as we step out onto the porch. It didn’t take long for Silas to decide it was time to go after dessert was set. And I didn’t argue—I want to know more. For all I know, this could be another piece to the Silas puzzle I never fully understood.
Sure, I picked up on the “black sheep” comment weeks ago at dinner with Max. And I didn’t question it because he was always different. But, like my kid pointed out, I never saw it as anything negative.
But I’m willing to bet it’s not just me expecting him to abandon Blue River the second he’s cleared to get back on the ice. It’s everyone who knows him here. Especially his brothers and father, who seemingly never gave him a choice.
Silas doesn’t say anything as we start down the path, hands in his pockets, shoulders a little lighter than they were inside.
I slip my arm into his and he glances down at me, as Max skips over rocks ahead of us. “What?” he asks with a knowing grin.
“Just wondering if all that is part of the reason you left?”
He huffs a laugh. “What gave you that idea?”
“Oh I don’t know . . . call it context clues. Like when you mentioned the ticking clock for the moment you get to jump back in your car and go home.”
His head drops with a sigh. “I never meant that to be away from you.”
I squeeze his arm reassuringly. “I know.”
“They’re not wrong,” he tells me after a moment, a little quieter. “When they make these jokes about me walking away from it all.”
“Why did you?”
He inhales sharply. “I’m not a mind reader, Storm. I observe. I can only take in what others put out.”
I frown, not following.
He sighs. “Before Mom passed, I always felt like there was a spot for me here when I was old enough to take on as much as Dallas and Wilder. That Dad would eventually start taking me out and showing me the ropes. In the meantime, Mom taught me the basics. To saddle, to ride, simple chores here and there. Then after she died . . . Dad didn’t pick up where she left off.
Didn’t care if I rode anymore. If I tossed hay into the stalls, filled the water troughs, swept the aisles.
Didn’t try to teach me more about running the place. ”
My heart aches. But not just for Silas’s clear feeling of rejection but how hard it must have been for Connor at the time.
“In fact, Dallas—who basically took over running the place—hired someone to take care of all that. Like I didn’t even exist.”
“I don’t think that’s what he was thinking. I think they were more concerned with overwhelming you.”
He shakes his head. “All Dad seemed to worry about after Mom was, Who’s taking Silas to practice?, You keeping your grades up?, and of course the, Don’t worry about all that, your brothers’ll take care of it.”
I rub his arm, leaning into him.
“I could read a room, you know? After a while, the parts I loved most about the ranch, the chores I still enjoyed doing, the beauty of it all—just died with her.”
He glances down and licks his lips. “And they let it.”
“I’m sorry.”
He scoffs. “I’m not. Whole place runs fine without me. Always has.”
I’ve spent years thinking he left because he wanted something bigger, better. Like this place wasn’t enough for him.
Sounds like he always felt like it was the other way around.
I stop in front of the driver’s side of the SUV, which was a remarkably smooth ride even on these roads. “Seems like something you should talk to them about.”
Another laugh huffs out of him. “Yeah, maybe I’ll start with my dad, make him feel guilty for grieving and not knowing what to do with me after Mom passed.”
I wince. “Maybe start with Dallas? Lot of tension between you two.”
He glances back. “Don’t tell me you don’t see why.”
“Oh, I see it. But maybe he doesn’t think of it that way? Maybe there’s things you both need to say out loud.”
Silas pulls the driver door open for me, winking. “I’ll think about it.”