26. Seth

Chapter Twenty-Six

SETH

Seth could hear his sister muttering to herself in a dark, evil-sounding voice when he entered the barn. She didn't bother looking up at the click of the latch when he closed the door to keep the wind out. Dim sunshine filtered through the wooden slats, lighting the barn with the holiness of a Sunday church.

Seth had given Tessa a few minutes head start to the barn, but she hadn't calmed down even a little. She was snorting angrily, breath steaming in front of her face as she furiously loaded hay into the back of the newly repaired feed truck. She'd forgotten her hat, and her winter coat was so thick and fluffy that it hindered her movements, but judging by the look on her face, she'd beat the brakes off him if he interfered.

Seth leaned back against the door and shoved his hands into his pockets, heart aching as he watched.

She'd always been a cheerful, bright spot in his life—the only happiness left after he'd distanced himself from Aiden. He hated to upset her, but more than that, he hated to disappoint her…and he felt like he had.

"You don't have to do that," Seth said gently, unsure how to put them back on familiar footing.

His stomach felt like a queasy knot every time he remembered how she'd looked running out of her bedroom, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he saw the anger in her expression now.

Tessa didn't even blink. She lifted hay into the truck's bed with practiced ease, as if he hadn't spoken.

He tried again. "It's my job."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Tessa sneered, whirling on him unexpectedly and jabbing a pointed finger into his chest. "This is my home just as much as it belongs to you! I've been bucking hay since I was old enough to walk!"

"You shouldn't have to?—"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" She threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "You've got to stop treating everyone like we're your playthings!"

Seth stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her in shock and confusion. "I don't do that," he protested.

Tessa barked out a laugh, cutting him off before he could piece together a better argument. Hurt and frustration suffused every facet of her body language, from her beet-red complexion to the tangle of hair she kept shoving off her sweaty forehead. "It's exactly what you do! What you've always done! Dad treated you like a prodigy; the whole town acted like you walked on water, and you let it go to your head. You never exactly got a childhood of your own; you were too busy giving advice to grown men twice your age. It gave you an inflated sense of responsibility."

Seth crossed his arms, unimpressed, and shored up his straining patience to say calmly, "You've got no idea what you're talking about. You were just a squirt back then."

"You always acted like being little made me blind," she said, rolling her eyes. "I paid attention to everything. I still do—and I know one thing: you can't keep doing this, Seth. You can't keep trying to control everything and everyone around you."

"I'm not trying to control anything," Seth shot back tightly. "I'm trying to protect you!"

"Yeah?" She plucked her hands on her hips and lifted her chin, giving him a condescending sneer that sparked his temper when nothing else could. "Who nominated you for that job?"

"Dad—when he died," Seth snarled.

"He asked you to raise me, not give me a lobotomy! I have my own brain, you know. My own spirit! Just like everybody else. What right do you have to decide you know better than the rest of us about our own lives?"

Seth's eyes narrowed. "You're changing the topic. Riley had no business in your bedroom, Tessa. You're too young to be making those kinds of decisions."

"Too young?" Tessa's voice rose in disbelief. "I'm not a child anymore, Seth! I'm over eighteen. I can make my own choices."

"Even if they're wrong?" Seth countered, purposely keeping his voice low, trying to scale back their rapidly raising volume. "What do you want me to do? Just stand back and let you get hurt?"

"Yes!" she screamed. "That's the whole point! You can't shield people from their own mistakes, Seth. It's wrong. Pain is how we all grow, isn't it? What right do you have to keep that from us?"

Seth jammed his hands in his pockets, grinding his teeth so hard he could feel the muscle in the side of his jaw ticking. She didn't get it, but one day, when she was responsible for someone other than herself, she would. "I just want to keep you safe," he said quietly.

"Safe?" Tessa asked, eyes flashing. "Or controlled? You've been trying to control everything around you since before Dad even died. You did it with me, and you're doing it with Aiden."

Seth stiffened. "This isn't about Aiden," he said tightly.

She plunked her hands on her hips and jerked her chin at him. "Why not?" she demanded stubbornly. "If my love life is open to ridicule, so is yours."

"It's different."

"How?" Tessa demanded, hands on hips. "How is it any different? You've been trying to protect Aiden from his own life for years. You even took the blame for the ionophore poisoning. You hid the truth from him for years, and then you got mad at him at the festival for being irresponsible. How else should he behave when you don't let him learn from his mistakes?"

Seth sucked in a sharp breath. He searched her eyes, hoping to see a hint of hesitation or uncertainty, anything to confirm she was guessing blindly. But all he saw was stubbornness and rock-solid certainty. "How did you know about that?" he demanded harshly.

"I'm not an idiot," she retorted hotly. "You wouldn't even let me go near the supplements because they were so dangerous. I wanted to help, but you explained to me over and over again how easy it was to get the dose wrong if you weren't paying attention. You would never mix them up with the old supplements. Not in a million years."

"I'm human, Tess," Seth said sharply. "I make mistakes."

"No, you don't, and you don't want anyone else to, either." She smiled slightly, looking up at him with a peculiar mix of affection and sorrow. "You're so scared of losing the people you love that you're suffocating us. You're denying us the chance to grow and learn. How are we ever going to become stronger if you keep doing that? Aiden's still the same guy he was a decade ago, living like some party boy in the worst trailer park in town. Riley says he works hard but shows up to work hungover half the time. Do you think he'd still be doing that if he knew what drinking had cost him?"

Seth stared at her wordlessly, shocked to stillness. He shook his head, grappling blindly for a response, but there was none. He felt like he'd been steamrolled. He'd buried the truth so deep that it didn't even feel like the truth anymore.

"It was my fault," Seth said hoarsely. "I was the one with the experience, the one who hired Aiden…the one who let him drink so much that night. In the end, it was my fault. Aiden didn't deserve to be punished for that."

"He deserves to know the truth," Tessa said softly. Her expression had changed, her eyes filled with sympathy when she reached out to wrap her arms around his waist. "It's part of his story. Even if no one else ever knows, he deserves to know. Just like I deserve to live my own life."

Seth wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to her shining hair, just like when she was a child. He'd raised her through the toughest years, sent her to college, and encouraged her to live her own life. He'd never wanted her shackled to the ranch like him, but he'd never imagined letting go would be this hard. "You're so young," he said hoarsely.

"I'm a grown woman," Tessa said, giving him a scolding pinch that he barely felt through his canvas jacket. "I wasn't playing dollies while I was away at school."

"Did you at least use protection?"

"Do you?"

"Jesus Christ," he groaned, disgusted.

Her light, happy laughter felt like a balm to the ugly wounds he'd opened in his anger. "Don't worry, big brother," she teased, grinning at him. "We're as safe as can be."

Seth closed his eyes and bent his head, squeezing her tight, wishing he could freeze time. The world was such a harsh place; there were millions of ways for her to get hurt. How could she expect him to stand back and allow it to happen? He breathed deep, grounding himself in the sweet, earthy scents of hay and strawberries.

"I know you worry," Tessa said faintly, as if reading his mind. Her nose was smushed into his chest, and he was forced to loosen his grasp to hear her properly. "I love you for how much you care, but you'll drive us all crazy if you don't learn to let go. Okay?"

"I'll…try," Seth agreed reluctantly.

She grinned up at him, full of relief, and he couldn't help but smile back despite the dread churning in his stomach. He'd packed the truth away so tightly, stuffing it down even when it barely fit, but Tessa's words had sent it spilling out in a messy jumble. He didn't know how to clean it back up, and the thought of opening up to Aiden was too much to face right now.

"You know, you can finish this after all," Tessa said, glancing at the feed truck and laughing. "You were right; I don't want to do chores. I want to go inside and reassure my boyfriend that you're not going to bury him in a shallow grave."

She headed to the door and threw it open, blasting his pupils with intense winter sunshine.

Seth lifted a hand to protect his watering eyes. "I'm not going to apologize!" he called after her retreating back.

"Oh, yes, you are!" she shouted, lifting a very grown-up middle finger over her shoulder as she left. He really needed to talk with her about that.

Chores always brought him a sense of purpose, soothing his frayed nerves with familiar routine, but not today. He felt raw and exposed.

A boot scuffed the dirt behind him, breaking his solitude, and he turned to see Aiden watching from the doorway. Morning light streamed around him, casting long, golden beams that highlighted a stream of floating dust motes. He wasn't wearing a hat, and his blond curls were lit up like a halo, still slightly red.

Seth's heart ached at the sight of him, a longing so intense it had become physical pain.

"You okay?" Aiden asked, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. There was something complicated in his stormy blue eyes.

"Yeah," Seth said. His voice came out rougher than he'd intended, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Aiden nodded slowly, his expression grimmer than Seth had ever seen. "Good. That's…good. Now you can explain exactly what Tessa was talking about."