Lukas
My stomach grumbles, reminding me that lunch time has gotta be coming up.
Tossing the last bale of hay into the feeder, I flip open my pocketknife and slice through the twine.
The bale falls open, and I shake the pieces free, distributing it around the feeder as evenly as I can.
Pretty soon, the spring rains will have dried, and we can set the cattle out to pasture, relying on the fresh grass for most of their feed.
A few cows are already moving in, dipping their face into the feeder and ripping out chunks of hay. I climb back on the UTV, watching as the rest of the herd starts to follow suit, one leading the other. Monkey see, monkey do.
I pull out my phone, wondering if I’ll hear back from Mags soon.
She texted me earlier to let me know her flight landed safely.
She had about two hours to try to crash and get some rest before she was met with a full day of rehearsal and practice.
Thank God, she doesn’t have a performance tonight.
I’m sure she’s exhausted, drained mentally and emotionally the same as I am.
I woke up this morning feeling almost hungover. I bared my soul to her yesterday, telling her things that I haven’t been able to put into words for anyone, even my therapist. But that’s how it always was with me and Mags. She could get me to say things and get the words out of me when it was hard.
I maneuver the UTV through the pasture, bumping along until I’m back on the main road. Bringing a hand to my lips, I brush my fingertips against the skin, swearing that I can still feel the heat of her kiss.
God, it felt fucking good to kiss her.
I’ve only kissed one other person in my life, and even though I wish I could blame it on the booze, or the state I was in, I know now that the reason I didn’t feel anything when I kissed Candi is because she isn’t Mags.
But now, she’s back in Paris. Thousands of miles away from me, and I don’t know when I’ll get to see her again.
My phone rings just as I’m parking the UTV in the machine shed. I scramble for it, heart thumping, knowing that it’s her.
“Hey, Mags.”
“Hey,” she says through a yawn. “I never thought I’d be so happy to say I’m back home and in bed.”
I chuckle at that. “You deserve ten hours of solid sleep.” I press my luck just a little and add, “I wish I was there to join ya.”
She yawns again, and I imagine her stretching out in bed, wishing like hell I could be lying next to her, holding her as she falls asleep.
“I wouldn’t hate that,” she says, and I bite down my smile.
“I talked to Nana earlier, called her to let her know I made it back. She’s pretty proud of herself. ”
I grin at that. “I’m going to stop by and see her in a few days. I’m sure she’ll be bragging about how good her plan worked.”
“I’m glad she meddled."
I internally beat my chest like an ape. “Yeah, Mags. I’m really glad she meddled. Did you manage to get any sleep on the plane?”
“Not really. I felt exhausted given everything that had happened, but I couldn’t shut my mind off enough to sleep, you know?”
“What were you thinking about the most?”
“Oh…” She pushes out a breath. “How adorable Ivy is. How weird but natural it felt to see you as a dad. How kind Candi was. The guilt I still carry, I guess.”
“Guilt over what? We talked about this at the airport, baby. Our relationship wasn’t healthy. I deserved to have you end it. You deserved to be free.”
“Not just that, though. I just … Do you know how many mean things I’ve thought about you over the last year?
How much I tried to hate you? I let myself create you out to be this terrible person, some evil, manipulative person, someone I know you aren’t.
But it was easier to let myself believe that.
It made me less sad, because I could focus on the anger, but that wasn’t fair to you.
It’s not even true! I made you out to be this awful person in my head, and now that I’ve seen you, met Candi and Rick and Ivy, it’s like … all this time you were you again.”
I step out of the machine shed and into the sun, opting to lean my arms over the back of my truck.
“I feel like I’m me, yeah, but it wasn’t always this way.
When I got back, I probably was the person you were imagining.
I wasn’t someone you would have wanted to be around, and honestly, I’m glad you didn’t get to see that side of me in person.
I don’t know if you’d want to be talking to me today if you saw how I was. ”
“But doesn’t it suck, all the not knowing? All the wondering?”
“Yeah, but I think I’ve started to make my peace with it.”
I can hear her let out a rattled breath, and I hold onto the silence for another moment.
“You know, a couple of months ago, I took Harper out to dinner, just the two of us. She’s grown so much, Mags.
You’d be shocked if you saw her. She’s an adult, a woman, still a spitfire like she’s always been but very capable of holding her own.
We got into a little spat, and you know what she said?
She said that I had been back almost a year, but it felt like I was just starting to come back. ”
Those words still sting. And I think she felt bad saying it, but it’s the truth.
“Damn,” Mags whispers.
“Yeah. It hurt, but she’s right. It’s weird.
In some ways, I’m in such a routine it feels like I’ve been back for years.
Those first six months are foggy. I missed out on so much, letting myself live like that.
I missed out on time with you, seeing you rise to the top in your career.
I look at my mom’s face now and can see how much she’s aged.
My siblings are all grown up. I still carry a lot of guilt with me, too, but I try to look at it now and see what I’ve gained—better relationship with my family, my daughter, and I’m still working on your trust. But I had to get to my breaking point to realize it all.
If you had quit ballet or taken a leave because you wanted to be with me, then you wouldn’t be where you are today.
You wouldn’t have been pushed to your full potential, and Mags, you’re a principal ballerina.
You’re living on your own in a foreign country.
“Everything happens for a reason, both good and bad. Everything shapes us into the person we were meant to be. Some lessons we don’t understand at the time, and some, like what happened to Collins, I don’t know if I’ll ever understand. But believing it all has a purpose is what keeps me going.”
She needed to end what we had because I don’t know if I would have ever sunk to my lowest, otherwise. I needed to hit rock bottom to finally realize how far I had fallen. And if we stayed together, there was the chance I would have taken her down with me.
“I can rest my head at night knowing that something good came from our breakup. You became stronger in a way because of it.”
There’s a silence on the line, and I wonder if she fell asleep on me, but then I hear her reluctant, “maybe,” and I smile.
“Just don’t keep hating me anymore, please.”
“Promise.”
The hum of a tractor engine sounds down the road, and I turn, seeing Dean pull into the drive. He parks the tractor against the side of the garage and hops off. I pause, and when I notice him start to head for his truck, and not the house to join the rest of us for lunch, I call out after him.
“Hey, Dean.” His head spins to mine. “Wait up.”
“I can let you go,” Magnolia says through a yawn.
“I think you need to get some sleep, baby.”
I don’t want to press my luck any more than I have these last twenty-four hours with her, but life is short, so I shoot my shot, anyway. “Any chance you’d let me come see you one of these days?”
“Oh. Uhhh…”
Her hesitation is all I need to hear. “No rush. I don’t need an answer right now.” I turn to make sure Dean is still standing idly, waiting for me. “Just think about it. I’d love to come and spend some time with you. But hey, I’ll let you go, Mags. Get a good night's sleep, all right?”
She yawns through another goodbye, and then I’m pocketing my phone, jogging the few paces toward Dean.
“Hey.” I gesture toward the main farmhouse with my head.
“My mom made a full lunch spread, joining us?” He looks toward the farmhouse, and I can see the hesitation on his face.
“Listen, no pressure man, but you’re sure as hell welcome.
We aren’t asking just to ask. You’re welcome at the table anytime because we appreciate you. ”
He sighs. “All right, I guess.” He raises his hands to look at his palms, dusting them over his dirty jeans. He’s sweating through his cotton tee, and there are flecks of grass and hay dusting his forearms. “I’m a mess, though.”
I look down at my own clothes. “We all are. Kind of to be expected. If you stink, no one will even notice because we all do.”
That thought seems to work on him, and I step toward the house, ushering him again with my head.
We take the front steps together, and I open the screen door, the hinges squeaking their hello. The smell of lunch cooking nearly smacks us in the face, and as if on command, my stomach grumbles. “My mom was going to make a roast chicken, I think.”
“Just for lunch?”
I kick off my boots on the front mat along with everyone else’s. “There are a lot of mouths to feed. She says it’s easier that way.” And she likes to cook for people.
I point to the half bathroom that sits under the stairs. “You can wash up in that bathroom, if you’d like. I’ll use the kitchen.” He nods, opening the door and peeking inside.
I keep moving down the hallway, turning into the dining room to see Pops already seated at the table.
He sips a cup of steaming coffee as he peruses the paper.
Gram comes from the kitchen with a platter of pickles, pickled beets, and carrot sticks in one hand, and a basket overflowing with rolls in the other.
She smiles at me, offering her cheek for a kiss, and I press a soft one to her weathered skin. “Sorry, I’m dirty.”
“My boys always are.”