Chapter 15
Elias pumped the gas while Owen entered the fast-food restaurant to grab them a couple of burgers to go. The ride from Cade’s house to Wyatt’s stayed unusually quiet giving Owen time to think about Tucker.
He noticed the pain in Leslie’s eyes when he questioned her. Knowing he bore most of the responsibility for missing out on his son, it stung deeply. What if he never came home for the funeral?
Elias still remained butthurt over Cade’s refusal to join them.
Because of their close ages, Cade and Owen shared a bond.
Knowing Cade as he did, Owen knew nothing changed his mind.
He only hoped Wyatt didn’t prove as stubborn.
Then again, the Wolfe brothers fought, antagonized, and played hard together.
Depending on the day, no one knew what the Wolfe brothers intended.
He ordered four double cheeseburgers to go, two large fries, and two drinks. Then, stood to the side while he waited for them to package it. Glancing outside, he saw Elias return the gas hose and take out his phone. He climbed into the truck and spoke with someone.
“Number 52,” the employee called, and Owen stepped forward, grabbed their order, and headed out to the van.
Noticing Elias hang up as he approached the truck, Owen got in and handed the drinks to him.
“Who did you call?” he asked.
“No one,” Elias said, still mad at him.
Sighing, Owen pulled onto the road and headed toward Wyatt’s place. According to the navigation, they’d arrive in two hours.
“Do you plan to keep giving me curt answers for the next couple of hours, or do you want to talk about the stick up your ass?” Owen asked him.
Grabbing the food bag, Elias sent him a dirty glance and pulled out a cheeseburger and a fry.
“Did you get any barbecue sauce?” he asked grumpily.
“What the hell do you need barbecue sauce for?” Owen asked, irritated by Elias’ inability to speak unless he needed something.
“I eat it with my fries,” he said defensively.
“Then maybe when I said I’m grabbing us something to eat, and you noticed the restaurant sign, you might’ve said, 'Can you grab me a burger, fries, and a drink with a side of barbecue?’” Owen snapped.
“And when the hell did you become picky? You used to eat whatever we set in front of you. Mom used to say she wished she had taken you to try out for the commercial with the kid who ate everything and loved some cereal.”
“My foster mom got me hooked on it. It’s not as if I got a choice before,” he argued.
“What the hell?” Owen said, pulling to the side of the road and screeching the van to a halt.
“Do you have something to say? If not, I’m dragging your ass out of this vehicle and pummeling you for becoming a ninny.
Mom always made sure we never went hungry.
It seems like you enjoyed the good life with your foster parents and tried forgetting all about us.
Why does it even matter if Cade shows up if you’re stuck on your foster family? ”
Elias’ jaw ticked, and he stared straight ahead. Owen didn’t care if he got mad, but he refused to let his brother hold it inside.
“You left us, Owen. If you’d have stayed, we might’ve lived together on the mountain.
Because of you, they took us away,” Elias said angrily.
“You didn’t call or check on us. All this time, and I still believed in you, big brother.
You always made everything better. Now, you left Cade to brood in his fancy house. Why didn’t you force him to come?”
Owen gripped the steering wheel. “This may be hard to hear, but the street goes both ways. The night we returned from the hospital, I stayed up to clean Mom’s blood from the floor.
I didn’t want you to see it there. Dad barely made it out of his stupor long enough to plan a funeral, and it fell to me.
On the day of the service, my own brothers blamed me for Mom’s death.
Dad drank and went home with other women, and Mom brought him home as if nothing happened.
She enabled him. Yet, my own flesh and blood accused me of killing her.
If I didn’t say anything, then she might still be alive.
Do you recall Dillon and you screaming those words to me?
It seems to me we all shared some blame.
Yes, I fucked up. Dad caused it by drinking, and I became like a second father and carried those burdens.
I worked after school and college to put food in your bellies, only to get told I’m the problem.
How do you think I felt?” he shouted. “Ever since I can remember, I raised you, and you turned on me like a pack of rabid coyotes. I didn’t want all the responsibility anymore. ”
“What about Leslie? She didn’t turn on you, and you left her high and dry,” Elias said. “Imagine how she must’ve felt when she woke up the next morning to find you gone. I’ll take responsibility for my part in driving you away. What did she ever do?”
Owen’s chest heaved up and down as he reigned in his temper.
“She wanted to get married, settle down, and have a couple of kids. I already cared for five. I felt caged in and helpless after Mom died. Leslie didn’t do anything.
I promised Mom to go after my dreams. If I heard Leslie’s voice, I knew I’d crumble. ”
“I never knew you felt this way,” Elias said softly.
“Mom counted on you for everything. We didn’t mean it, Owen.
Dad barely functioned at the funeral, and you took control of everything.
I guess we never saw it from your point of view.
We needed someone to blame for such a senseless action, and I guess we knew you’d push back. But you didn’t. Instead, you left us.”
“Yes, I walked away from my ungrateful asshole brothers and made a life for myself,” Owen said gruffly. “They seemed to think I didn’t have my own feelings to deal with.”
Elias stared straight ahead, watching the road. “I’m sorry, Owen. Besides Mom, you’re the one constant in our lives. When we woke up the next morning, all of us felt like shit.”
“It’s done and over. Tell me about Wyatt,” he ordered, not wanting to get emotional.
“He drinks. A lot,” he confessed. “Wyatt’s usually drunk by noon.
Dad tried to help him once. He didn’t want Wyatt to make the same mistakes.
Wyatt hit him. I tried talking to him, but he doesn’t listen to anyone.
He rents a house right outside of town. I have groceries delivered once a week.
As far as I can tell, he thinks they drop groceries from the sky.
Every now and then, he gets a job. He’s good at working with wood.
The shed has a shit ton of his furniture.
I don’t understand why he doesn’t sell it. ”
“When did he start drinking?” Owen asked, already guessing.
“The day you left. He blamed himself for Mom and then you. When they came to take us away, he willingly went with child services. I heard through the grapevine he never got placed in a home. He stayed in the system until he aged out. By then, Wyatt didn’t care about anything.
My foster Mom, Maryann, took me to see him.
He told me to never come back,” Elias said, his voice drifting off.
Owen swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
Mom always called Wyatt her sensitive child.
He constantly suffered stomach aches, and she always made him something different from everyone else.
Thinking back, she did it to make him feel special.
Wyatt needed the extra attention. Dad seemed to pick on him, mostly to toughen him up like his brothers.
When Mom discovered his talent for building things, she put him to work on the cabins and the dilapidated porch.
Owen smiled as he realized the work Wyatt did on the house still held up over the years.
“We’ll bring him home,” Owen said, hoping it reassured Elias. “Somehow, we’ll get them all there.”
“What about Cade?” Elias asked.
“He’ll come, even if I have to drag him by the nuts,” Owen vowed.
Elias grinned, making Owen’s gut clench. He saw faith in his brother’s eyes, and he hoped he managed to live up to it.
Two hours later, they pulled into Wyatt’s driveway.
An old, beaten truck sat in the driveway, and the shed door swung with the wind.
Getting out, Owen wandered over to the shed, curious to see the masterpieces Elias spoke about.
His eyes widened at the creative pieces.
A large kitchen table, exactly like their family’s sat in the corner of the building.
Curiosity got the best of him as he walked toward the familiar piece.
Eight chairs surrounded it, and at the top of each chair, Wyatt etched the names of his brothers and Dad.
Mom’s chair sat at the head with carved wildflowers, his mother’s favorite, under her name. A chair Wyatt built for a queen.
A deep sadness filled Owen as he felt Wyatt’s pain etched in each chair. Glancing at his brother’s spot, he noticed Wyatt’s chair remained empty, with no name, as if he never existed.
“I told you,” Elias murmured beside him. “I peeked in the window. He’s passed out on the couch.”
Grunting, Owen turned and headed for the house.
Elias ran to catch up to him. “What do you plan to do?” he asked, trying to keep the peace.
“Let me handle this, little brother,” Owen said as he turned the knob.
He frowned to find it unlocked. Turning to Elias, he said, “Go lock up the shed. I don’t want anyone to touch his stuff.
When I get him out, you pack him a bag of clothes, his toothbrush, and his wallet. Everything else can wait.”