22. Skyler

Reese haunts me.

Her scent.

The cute little sounds she made when I kissed her behind her ear. Half moan, half giggle.

The way she looked when I told her no.

I hurt her feelings. I know I did.

And the dumbest part? I probably do need her help.

But I’ve never been able to accept pity.

And definitely not from the likes of her.

I can’t stand the idea of her thinking I’m incompetent in some way.

It’s a gloomy day, just like my mood. My boots crunch through wet white rock, getting slick with gray mud. It’s days like these, when the weather shifts from warm to cold, that my leg gives me trouble. It’s not unbearable. Just a dull ache reminding me of a day I’d rather forget.

I adjust the ballcap on my head, trying to keep the fine mist from coating my glasses. Farmers ain’t the type to carry an umbrella. That wouldn’t be the manly thing to do.

But that means that this auction resembles a large crowd of grumpy, soggy cats. I find Uncle Chad leaning up against a fence, arms crossed against the chill, mist beading up on his face.

He nods at me. “Lovely day.”

“Sure is.”

I settle in next to him, trying to ignore the way the condensation is soaking into my pants pocket. “You see anything you’re interested in?”

“A few things. It’s slim pickings.”

“That it is.”

I watch the auctioneers slowly move a collection of augers into place. Like oversized metal dinosaurs. “I saw Don the other day.”

Uncle Chad straightens, tearing his gaze away from the auctioneers. “Did you now?”

I tip my head. “In Denver.”

“Yeah. I heard that’s where he’s living these days.”

“I met his partner, too. Cliff. Nice guy.”

Chad gives me a sidelong glance. “Don have much to say?”

“Some.”

I nod slowly, keeping my voice even. “Said that court battle got pretty ugly.”

Chad huffs a laugh. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“He said he got cut out because he’s gay.”

Chad winces. “That’s true, too.”

It’s not easy to talk to Chad, but compared to my dad, he’s a fucking chatterbox. I shake my head.

Chad takes in my silent rebuke and shrugs. “Not our finest moment, kid. Not for any of us.”

“Why let it go to court? Why didn’t any of you make it right?”

“We thought we were doing the right thing at the time.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Nobody wakes up one morning, twirls their mustache, and says, today is the day I’m going to be the villain. We’re all the heroes in our own story. Even when we’re not.”

Chad scuffs his boot in the gravel, frowning at the milky water that pools there. “Your Grandpa Paul had just passed on and we were all still pretty upset. Looking back, yeah, maybe I would have done things differently. But your dad… he thought we needed to honor dad’s wishes. You know how he is about honor and all that. It’s why the dipshit gave me the lion’s share when he should have taken more for himself. He bent so far backwards to do the right thing, he ended up biting himself in his own ass.”

I bark a laugh at that. Nobody’s ever brought it up, but I did wonder why Uncle Chad inherited the choicest pieces of land, while our family got the leftovers. Now that I’ve met Don, I realize there’s something worse than scraps and that’s nothing at all.

“Didn’t matter in the end.”

Uncle Chad says. “Heather took half of it in the divorce, anyway. Don’t get married, kid. Women are vampires.”

He says women are vampires, but what about men?

What kind of man would choose land and wealth over their own brother? They say they were honoring Grandpa Paul’s wishes but fuck that guy.

“I know it’s in poor taste to speak ill of the dead, but…”

I take my glasses off, wipe the condensation off on my shirt and settle them back on.

“He was a crusty old bastard, no denying it.”

Uncle Chad clicks his tongue. “He did Donald wrong. I can see that now. But you have to remember, we didn’t have the luxury of a modern education back then. We did all kinds of things wrong. If I made a list of all my mistakes, it’d be a mile long. At a certain point, you just have to accept the fact that you’re human and living life means that sometimes you’re going to trip up. Look at me and Heather. That was just one long mistake, start to finish.”

Everything always comes back to Heather. He says he’s over her, but his thoughts betray him.

I don’t want to be like him. Alone at fifty, sitting in my mistakes like they’re a mud puddle and I don’t mind getting soggy.

I may be a young man, and I don’t have half the experience my dad or Uncle Chad have. But what I can see is that if mistakes are one side of the coin, change is the other.

I want to change.

I need to.