Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hutch
“I told my mom about you,” Jocelyn says as she sets her book down.
We’re curled up on my sofa after feeding Cliff, a routine that has begun to feel habitual and comforting.
I’m reading my men’s book club book about a spy and the woman he’s supposed to be watching, and she’s reading an enemies-to-lovers workplace romance book.
It feels like we’ve been together forever, and I love that.
I love that I can go hang with the guys, or she can go out with her friends, and then we come back here and just enjoy each other’s company.
I’ve never experienced something like this in a relationship before now.
“Oh?” I say, attempting to remain calm. But inside, I’m excited. We haven’t done the whole meet the family thing yet, but I’d like to meet her family. I realize I may never meet her father, but I’d at least like to meet her mom and sister.
“Yeah. She wants to have you over for dinner soon,” she says nonchalantly.
I turn and roll her onto her back, hovering over her. “And you’re just telling me this now?”
She giggles. “Uh, yeah.”
I kiss her. “I’d love to meet your family.”
She grins up at me and then frowns. “Will I…get to meet yours? I mean, someday?”
I’m frowning now, too. I haven’t spoken to my family since I sent a quick text letting them know I was home from my vacation.
We don’t talk as much as I’d like. Usually, it’s me checking on my parents, but sometimes I talk with my siblings, especially my sister.
I know my brother proposed to his girlfriend a few months ago.
I guess I’ll get a wedding invite. I’ve only met her a few times when I’ve stopped out at the farm to help with something that my brother couldn’t afford to hire someone to do.
“Sure. Maybe this spring,” I say, trying to push off the timeframe.
“OK,” she whispers.
“We don’t talk a lot. It’s just been weird since the accident, as you know,” I say, reminding her.
I have talked a bit about it with her and how I wish things were less awkward with them.
We used to be really close. But after I sold my house, which was near the farm, I feel like I only see them at birthdays and holidays.
My sister probably texts me the most. And even she only messages me two or three times a month now.
I know she’s been busy studying to get her degree in agricultural business.
She dropped out of college for a while to help with the farm, but I talked her into going back to school three years ago. She’ll graduate this spring.
“I know,” she says, reaching up to stroke my cheek. “I wish you’d talk to them more. Be the bigger person, make that first move. I can tell they mean a lot to you. Maybe they think you don’t want them in your life.”
I glare at her. “I have been clear that I do,” I say defensively. I know I have made it clear, haven’t I?
“Alright, alright. I was just suggesting,” she says.
I sigh. “You’re right. I should talk with them.”
“Maybe go stop by the farm. You always seem so calm when you come back from there. I can tell you miss it. It was a huge part of your life for twenty-five years,” she points out, and I hate that she’s right.
I do miss it. I miss the animals and the wide-open spaces.
I miss taking one of the horses out to check the miles of fences on the property.
I love the city and the family I’ve made here, but something about the farm will always hold a special place in my heart.
I nod. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” I agree. Jocelyn has class tomorrow, and I have a free afternoon after a meeting was cancelled. I decide to rip off the bandage and go see my family. I just hope they want to see me too.
* * *
I pull up to my parents’ farmhouse. They renovated it when I was ten.
It’s pale blue with white trim and shutters and a yellow front door.
I can see where trim needs to be repainted, and a few boards on the front porch need replacing.
I look out toward the main barn. It could also use some paint, but all in all, the place looks decent.
I park and get out, stretching my hip. The drive only takes a little under an hour, but I typically don’t sit crammed in small spaces for that long.
I walk up toward the front door when I hear someone call my name. Looking around, my gaze lands on my sister, Alicia.
“Ally!” I call out with a wave as she runs toward me. Her nickname flows off my tongue as if I say it every day.
She runs up to me and pulls me into a hug.
“Hey,” I say as I embrace her, smelling the hay on her hair. She must have been mucking stalls.
“What are you doing out here?” she asks as she pulls back to look up at me.
Ally is tall but nowhere near as tall as I am.
Our brother, Bryson, is about three inches shorter than I am.
My parents always joked that I sucked up all the tall genes when I was born, leaving my siblings to be normal tall.
“Just thought I’d stop by and say hello. I had the afternoon off,” I explain as I look around. “Do you have any projects you need help with?”
“Of course. There are never-ending projects, but you know that,” she laughs as she takes my hand and tugs me toward the house. “Let’s see if Mom has lunch ready before we put you to work.”
I follow her up the steps and into the house. I can smell the chicken before I reach the kitchen.
“Damn, I miss Mom’s cooking,” I confess.
“You should come out here more often,” she says as she gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Ally, is that you?” Mom calls out.
“Yep, and I found a stranger,” Ally replies as we step into the big open space at the back of the house. Dad had knocked a bunch of walls down so that the kitchen, informal dining area, and family room were all open to each other.
Mom’s wearing her normal blue flowered apron. She’s setting a casserole dish on the kitchen island as we walk into the room.
Her eyes light up when she sees me. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” she says, wiping her hands on a towel and walking over to me.
She pulls me into a hug, and I lift her up off the ground. She laughs, and I nuzzle my head into her neck and breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume. She smells like home, and I’ve missed her.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, setting her down.
“Mike! We’ve got company!” Mom yells.
I hear Dad come down the stairs, probably from his office on the third floor, where he had renovated the old attic space.
“Oh?” he says, as he turns the corner and sees me. I catch the surprise in his eyes, but he quickly recovers and comes over to give me a hug.
“What brings you out here?” he asks as he pulls back and sits down at the table where Mom has laid out lunch, which looks like some sort of chicken casserole, salad, and her famous homemade bread.
Mom retired from teaching when I had my accident.
She claimed it was time, but I think she would have taught for a few more years if she hadn’t needed to help me around my house for six months.
“I had a meeting cancelled, so I decided to come visit,” I explain as I sit down across from him in the spot that was mine growing up.
The door slams, and Bryson walks into the room. “Well, shit, look what the cat dragged in,” he says as he walks over to me and slaps me on the back.
I sniff and scrunch my face. “I’m not the one who smells like shit. Damn, boy, which pig did you piss off?”
He laughs and sits down. “Miss Piggles was mad this morning,” he explains as if that’s a normal thing to say. Miss Piggles is our oldest pig. Bryson raised her for a Four-H project in high school, and she’s lived on the farm ever since.
“I see some things never change,” I state as I help myself to lunch.
Mom and Ally sit down, and Dad looks over at me. “Glad you stopped by, kid,” he says.
I suddenly feel guilty. Am I the problem? Was the separation from my family all my fault?
“So, what’s new?” Mom asks as she passes the bread to me.
“I’m seeing someone,” I announce.
There’s a clang of forks on plates, and I look up to see everyone staring at me.
“Wow. Who? How long? Are we meeting her?” Ally rattles off questions.
“Slow down, Allinator,” I tease, using her childhood nickname. “Just a few weeks. Her name is Jocelyn. We’ve known each other for about five months and some change. She’s graduating from grad school this spring, and she works at the bookstore downstairs.”
“Oh, honey, I’m happy for you,” Mom says, a smile forming on her face that looks genuine.
I clear my throat because I hate talking about my feelings, but I need to do this. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more,” I say. Silence meets me as my family members all look at each other. “What?” I ask.
“We’ve just been waiting for you to say that for a long time.
We miss you out here, kid,” he says, and I feel like a truck just hit me.
I’m mad at them for not saying this sooner.
I’m mad at myself for not talking to them sooner.
Do they really miss me? Can they get over their guilt about the accident?
Do I blame them for the accident? Why didn’t they say something to me? Shit, how fucked up am I?
I swallow hard. “I…have some stuff I’ve been needing to work through…that I apparently still need to work through,” I stammer as I try to understand what’s happening and how I feel about it. I just wanted to clear the air a little, but now, I feel like Pandora’s box has been opened.
Mom pats my hand. “Sweetheart, you’re always welcome here. We just didn’t want to press you about it. You’ve been through so much. We love you,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze. I grab it and squeeze it back.
“Thanks,” I manage. “I’ll do better to come out and visit. But you know, you’re always welcome at my place.”
“Uh, what the hell, Hutch? What’s with all this sappy shit out of nowhere?” Bryson says, and I can tell I’ve ruffled his feathers.
“Bryson!” Mom scolds.
I hold up my hand. “He has every right to be pissed, Mom. I’ve been thinking you all didn’t want me around, so I’ve stayed away,” I attempt to explain.
“Stayed away? Bro, you up and deserted us.” He pauses as if searching for words. “I don’t mean the money. I mean…you.” His words cut me. He and I have had some fights over how to pay for things since my football career ended. I never thought about him wanting me around, not just for the money.
I run a hand through my hair. “I thought…that’s what you wanted,” I admit. “I thought having me around was too…painful.”
Ally frowns. “Painful?”
“’Cause of everything,” I say as I tap my hip.
She rolls her eyes. “Men really are stupid fucks,” she mutters.
“Alicia!” Mom says, which only prompts another eye roll from my sister.
“Well, we’re just glad you’re here,” Mom says.
Bryson takes a bite of his lunch and angrily chews it in silence. Fuck. I have some serious talking to do to him, but not here, not now.
We eat in silence, everyone seemingly taking in the conversation in their own ways. Dad finishes first and looks at me.
“Might as well help while you’re here. I can use a hand mending the fence down by the back pasture,” he says as he stands and takes his plate to the sink, rinsing it and sticking it in the dishwasher.
“Sounds good,” I agree as I follow his lead. “Thanks, Mom,” I add.
She smiles and nods. It’s awkward, which I expected, but maybe if I can try harder, we can get past this.
But the longer I’m here, the more confused I get.
Is everything different than I remember?
Do I have all of this wrong? Have I missed out on my family for almost a decade because I’m a stubborn asshole?
By the end of the afternoon, I leave with more questions than answers.