36. Lottie #2
“I already checked, and they aren’t there!
” I hate that I’m losing patience for small talk, but I’m struggling to breathe with my racing heart, and I’m sucking air as I jog along the fence line.
“They bust out of their pen all the time, but they never leave, and the fence wasn’t broken.
It was perfectly intact. Someone opened it.
I just, I don’t understand why my mom would—”
“Wait,” he says too slowly for my rising panic. “Why would your mom want your goats gone?”
“I don’t know.” My voice shakes as I hold in my fears. “But she hates them. She hates that they’re mine. And she hates I—” I stop, breathless, bracing a hand on my fear-weakened knees to pant. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know they’re gone.”
This can’t be happening.
Any second they could be getting run over.
I need to find them before they die!
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Take a breath. I have to finish up my exit interview today, but I’ll let them know I have an emergency and come as soon as I can.”
We hang up, but I don’t hang up my search.
I race through the tall grass, my flip-flops sliding in fresh mud as I cut across the field.
My lungs burn, but I don’t slow, remembering one time the goats got out—I found them down by the creek.
It was fine then; the water was low. But it’s not low now.
The creek is much fuller now, and I’m not sure they can swim.
Panic propels me to run as hard as my heart will allow until I skid to a stop at the field’s edge.
They’re there!
Splashing like idiots, they butt each other playfully near the water’s edge. Toast is eating something I can’t identify, but they all look unbothered and alive .
My knees give out.
I collapse into the grass, half sobbing, half laughing. My hands press into the earth as my chest caves under relief and tears cascade down my cheeks.
Hot tears.
The kind my mother calls weak. Out of habit, I press my face into my hands to stop them, but they pour out—relief so sharp it hurts.
This goes deeper than the goats. It’s years of pent-up emotions I’ve blocked, and the dam has finally been breached.
It’s fear I didn’t let myself feel, and anger I’ve swallowed for decades.
And guilt.
Because I assumed my mom did this. It made sense—she’s the type to take something I love and call it a lesson.
I swipe at my face, and I smile at my incredibly naughty goats.
There’s something wrong in not trusting my own mother.
The fact I instantly assumed this was her doing tells me more about the choices I need to make ahead than anything else.
Overwhelming relief floods me, and I sink to the ground, cross-legged, letting the tears fall freely.
My face is hot and wet. I don’t wipe the tears away, because I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to be told to stop.
I don’t know how long it lasts, but I’m no longer crying when I hear footsteps behind me.
I don’t flinch because I’m numb. Then weight settles beside me.
I glance sideways and see Ty’s sneakers, mud-splattered at the toes.
He plops down beside me, close enough our arms touch. After a second, his hand finds mine.
We stay like that, watching the goats wander farther down the creek. I have to scoot forward a few feet to keep them in view. Ty scoots too and eventually breaks the silence. “You were crying.”
My voice comes out wrecked but honest. “Yeah. And it felt good.” I’m surprised by the truth.
“You probably need to cry.” His thumb rubs a slow circle on my hand.
“You had a lot of stress these past couple weeks. Not to mention being let go from your job.” He pulls back enough to look at me.
“Not to rush you, but we should maybe get them back in the pen before they go too far down the creek,” he says gently.
“The creek looks pretty deep down there.”
I look past him, at the house in the distance. The weight of all the unhappy years that linger inside those walls crashes over me, and I’m relieved I’ve run out of tears. All I have left is a shake of my head. “No. I’m not putting them back in the pen. I’m loading them in their trailer.”
“Okay,” he says. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Away.” I stand, shoulders squared, ready to do what I must.
With Ty on my heels, I storm up to my room, and I fling open the closet doors, grabbing my old duffel bag.
I’m half surprised all my clothes are still hanging neatly like I left them, and my mom didn’t use the opportunity to publicly donate my stuff to Goodwill for PR.
I can’t even laugh at the ridiculous thoughts flying through my head as I tug the zipper a bit harder than necessary.
“Lottie, what in the world is going on?” My mom stands in the doorway, arms crossed, mouth thin. “You’re being awfully loud.”
I don’t look at her. In one sweep, I scoop all my T-shirts from the closet and dump them into the open bag, hangers and all.
Ty steps forward quietly, tugging at the hangers to help the shirts fit better.
Neither of us looks at my mom, but I grunt, “What are you doing home in the middle of the day?”
“I came when your father texted me the goats were lost. Ham and I both did, but when we pulled up, we saw them on their leashes and tied to the porch. Did they not want to go back in their pen?”
I give her a side-eye. Like she cares about my goats enough to come home midday. She’s clearly concerned about something else. “I didn’t put them in their pen because I’m going to load them up and take them with me. I’m moving.”
Her head tips to the side. “What are you talking about?”
“Just what I said.” I open my sock drawer, decide I need everything, and dump the entire drawer into my bag before sliding it back. Her eyes widen as she watches. “I can’t be here anymore.”
Her head tilts away from me, as if she wishes to add physical distance. She plants her hands on her hips, exactly how she always does before taking control of a conversation. “Lottie, where do you think you will go with three goats?”
“I’ll figure it out.” Refusing to cower, I level my gaze with hers, and widen my stance, stamping determination on my face. We enter a silent stare down.
It’s quiet for a long beat before Ty steps forward. “Hey.” His voice is soft. “I’ll help you move, but not like this.”
My mom lets out a humorless laugh and brushes off his words with a flick of her wrist. “How noble of you, Ty.”
He remains loose, seemingly unaffected by her insults. “I don’t want her leaving hurt.”
“You don’t want?” my mom snaps. “This isn’t about what you want.
You’ve already caused enough damage. I had everything planned for Lottie with Bodan.
If it weren’t for you butting in, she’d be on her way to the Senate in a few years.
Now she can’t even take care of herself without a job.
Let alone those goats. She’ll be lucky to find a job bagging groceries after the scandal you two created. What a joke.”
Tension coils through me before I cough out, “Mom—”
Before I can yell about all the ways she has damaged me, Ty steps in front of me—not blocking me but inserting himself into the conversation. “You can be angry,” he says evenly. “I get that. But you don’t get to speak to Lottie like that.”
As much as I want to avoid eye contact with my mom, I have to see her expression. No one has ever spoken up for me like that, and she’s not going to take it lightly. My mom blinks several times while her body stiffens. “Excuse me? Is that how you talk to a senator?”
“Look,” Ty continues, “Lottie’s allowed to make her own decisions, even if they aren’t what you want. She’s put up with your demands for far too long.”
I go numb.
Ty is really doing this.
He’s standing up to my mom, who I turn to, bracing for smoke to shoot from her ears as she goes ballistic. Her eyes narrow, and she snaps back in a mocking tone, “You think you’re going to be Lottie’s savior?”
“No, she doesn’t need a savior. This isn’t about that.
” He reaches back and touches my hand. “I care about her deeply, but I also care about your family. I’ve known you all for years.
That’s why I don’t want her running away while things are unresolved—but that doesn’t mean I’m standing back and letting you bully her. ”
My heart melts. I didn’t know shy Ty, the boy I’ve known since I was in grade school, had it in him to stand up to my mom.
He stays fixed on her, going off without wavering, “And while I’m at it, I want to address the hockey comments you’ve made.
I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I’m good at what I do, and I make a great living.
Thousands of guys would die to be in my position.
I won’t apologize for anything. I know you look down on me because I don’t have some corporate, bow tie-wearing job. I don’t care what you think.”
He steps back, positioning himself next to me. “If you want to salvage any relationship you have left with your daughter, you need to get over yourself,” Ty continues. “Because from now on, anyone who disrespects her answers to me.”
And … my jaw drops.
Heavy silence presses in.
A frown sags on my mother’s lips, and I brace for the lecture to end all lectures. The world is likely to tilt off its axis from the explosion she’s about to have. Ty has no clue what he’s set into motion. I cringe and wait.
“You remind me of someone.” She zeroes in on Ty. She’s not yelling, but shockingly calm. “Or I should say you remind me of someone who promised me the world and left me standing in the wreckage when it fell apart.”
I hold my breath, unsure where she’s going with this sob story. She’s not screaming yet, but it must be coming ...
Ty nods once. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’m not that person.”