Chapter 23 #2
"Sweetheart, are you sure you're okay? You look upset."
"I'm fine, Carol. Just tired."
"Riley texted me. She feels terrible about missing this."
Grant's jaw tightened. "I'm sure she does."
"She said work got away from her. That her boss kept piling things on."
"Yeah. That seems to happen a lot."
Carol's eyes were sad. "Don't be too hard on her. I know my daughter. She wouldn't have missed this if she'd had any choice."
But that was the thing, wasn't it? Riley had made a choice. Maybe not consciously. Maybe not intentionally. But when her boss had asked her to stay, Riley had said yes.
Just like she always did.
"I really need to go," Grant said. "Early day tomorrow."
Carol looked like she wanted to say more, but David put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head slightly.
"Drive safe," David said.
Grant nodded and pushed through the doors into the cold night air.
The drive home was too quiet. Grant turned on the radio, but everything sounded wrong, so he shut it off and drove in silence.
His phone buzzed again. And again. Text messages, probably. Maybe another call.
Grant didn't check.
By the time he pulled into the farm driveway, it was almost seven and his dad was probably reading.
Grant sat in his truck for a long moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady his breathing.
He'd known this would happen. Deep down, he'd known. Riley's job would always pull her away. Would always take priority. Would always be the thing that mattered more than promises or commitments or him.
He'd just been stupid enough to hope it would be different this time.
Grant climbed out of the truck and headed inside.
Thomas was in the living room, newspaper in his lap, reading glasses perched on his nose. He looked up when Grant walked in.
"How was the pageant?"
"Fine. Kids did great."
"Riley make it?"
"No."
Thomas set down his newspaper. "Work?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry, son."
Grant shrugged, heading for the kitchen. He needed water. Or maybe something stronger, but he had chores in the morning.
Thomas followed him. "You want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Grant—"
"What do you want me to say, Dad?" Grant pulled a glass from the cabinet, filled it at the sink. "She promised she'd be here. She wasn't. End of story."
"It's not that simple."
"Isn't it?" Grant drank half the glass in one go. "She had a choice. Her boss asked her to stay, and she said yes. Same choice she's been making for ten years."
"That's not fair. You know how demanding her job is—"
"I know she always chooses it over everything else." Grant set the glass down harder than he meant to. "Over her family. Over her friends. Over me."
Thomas was quiet for a long moment. "She'll come back. When she's ready."
"Maybe I don't want her to."
The words came out harsher than Grant intended, but he didn't take them back.
Thomas studied him. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" Grant set down his glass. "She made a choice today, Dad. Same choice she's been making since she left for college. Work over everything else. Over her family, over her friends, over—" He stopped.
"Over you."
Grant's jaw tightened. "Yeah."
"Son, I know you're hurt. You have every right to be. But don't make this bigger than it is in your head. One missed event doesn't—"
"It's not one event. It's a pattern." Grant ran a hand through his hair. "Every time I think maybe things are different, maybe she's changed, she proves me wrong."
Thomas sighed. "I think you need to actually talk to her before you decide what this means."
"I'm going to the barn." Grant headed for the door. "Got some work to finish."
"Grant—"
But Grant was already gone, letting the screen door bang shut behind him.
Grant couldn't go upstairs. Couldn't lie in that bed that still smelled like Riley. Couldn't sit in the quiet and let his thoughts eat him alive.
So he went to the barn.
The cold air bit at him as he crossed the yard, but he barely felt it. He flipped on the work lights and grabbed a project he'd been putting off—fixing the hinges on one of the stall doors. Something that required his hands and his focus and didn't leave room for thinking.
He worked in silence, the only sounds the scrape of metal on metal and his own breathing. Every few minutes, his phone would buzz in his pocket. He ignored it.
The work helped. A little. Enough to keep the worst of the hurt at bay.
He'd been so stupid. So fucking stupid to think this time would be different. To think Riley had changed. To think he was enough to make her want to stay.
She'd promised she'd be back. Looked him in the eye this morning and sworn she wouldn't let work get in the way.
And then she'd done exactly that.
Grant's hands tightened on the sandpaper he was using, his jaw clenched so hard it ached.
This was what she did. Made promises she couldn't keep. Let work consume everything. Chose her career over the people who cared about her.
Over him.
He'd just watched her do it again.
The only difference was this time, he'd known better. This time, he'd seen it coming.
And it hurt just as much anyway.
He'd just started sanding down the rough edge of the door frame when he heard it.
The crunch of tires on gravel.
Grant's hands stilled. His heart stopped.
A car door opened. Closed.
Footsteps across the yard. Hesitant. Getting closer.
Grant set down the sandpaper, his pulse hammering, his chest tight.
He knew, without looking, without checking, exactly who was walking toward the barn.
The footsteps stopped at the entrance.
A long pause. Silence except for the wind.
Then the barn door creaked open wider.
Grant turned.
And there she was.