64. Skyler

We sit at my mom’s dining room table, listening to the grandfather clock ticking in the hall. It’s usually just white noise, the soundtrack to my parent’s home.

Today, it feels oppressive.

Mom nervously drums her fingers on the tabletop. I give her hand a reassuring pat before pulling my gaze away. Ever since Mitch compared her to Reese, I can’t unsee it. She’s small and sweet and approachable.

Just like Reese.

I glance at Terry, who looks completely unruffled by this breech of “Nebraska Nice”

etiquette.

She looks sleek and cosmopolitan in a black sweater and tailored pants. Her boots have ice pick heels. Heels like that are wildly impractical out here.

I find myself wondering if she could adjust.

Mom shoots me an apologetic smile. She asked dad to come in to meet my ‘friend’ almost an hour ago, but he hasn’t stepped foot inside.

He’s like that. Work always takes priority. Growing up, this was just a fact of life. Vacations revolved around it, or simply didn’t happen. Mitch has a summer birthday, which meant we ate birthday cake and opened presents in the back of a truck in the middle of a cornfield.

But considering this is the first woman I’ve ever introduced to them, I can’t help but be personally offended. As a kid, I had a grudging respect for my dad’s work ethic. But as a grownup, I have a different perspective.

It’s rude.

Compulsive behavior. Lord knows what he’s overcompensating for. Probably guilt over his brother and father, but I didn’t get my degree in psychology. I don’t care why he’s ignoring Terry. I just know that it’s rude. We all travel through this world with our own burdens. It’s not an excuse to treat other people badly.

I’m annoyed, but doing my best to hide it.

The front door swings open, but I know from the gait of those boots clomping on the floor it’s not dad.

“Aunt Lisa? You home? Just passing through. Uncle Brad said to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.”

Bo walks through the dining room, doing a double take when he sees the three of us sitting there.

Mom is on her feet, hurrying towards him. “Why do you need the first aid kit?”

Bo’s cradling his hand, trying to keep blood from dripping on the floor. “Had a little accident.”

I snort. Bo’s a klutz. If his hand had nine lives, it’d be dead.

Mom pulls out a chair and reaches up to press on his shoulder. “Sit.”

He sits, but glances at the door like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I gesture at him. “This is my cousin, Bo.”

Bo nods gamely. I lock gazes with her. “And this is Terry. My… coworker.”_

“Nice to meet you, Bo.”

Terry grins. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

There’s a tenor to her voice that suggests she’s heard some of the worst stories. Which she has.

Bo narrows his eyes at me. “I’m sure you have.”

He clears his throat, sitting up a little taller when mom returns with the bandages. “You work with Skyler?”

His gaze flicks over to mine. I’ll have some explaining to do when Terry’s gone.

A lot of explaining.

“Yep.”

She smiles at me. “For a few years now. We had a meeting in Lincoln, so we thought we’d buzz out quick.”

So she could meet the family.

And see Silver Bend.

It was never explicitly stated that way, but she and I both know this is not just a casual visit.

We’ve only been on one date. It’s insanely early to introduce her to the family. But I think neither of us wants to waste our time if we can’t agree on the outcome. I’ve already done that. Unintentionally, yes.

Reese and I never officially dated, so it’s probably not fair to use that relationship as a case study. But if I did, I would say that kind of pain is best avoided. Like putting your hand on a hot stove.

Bo lets mom pin his hand to the table so she can work on cleaning out his cut. She sighs at the wound. “Shouldn’t need stitches.”

I grin. “What’d you do this time?”

He glowers at me, but there’s laughter in his eyes. “Your concern is going to bring me to tears.”

I wait, sitting back.

He shrugs. “Smashed it.”

Mom braces his wrist. “Hold still, kiddo.”

She’s teeny tiny compared to him, but he obeys without comment. He turns his gaze to the two of us. I can almost see the gears turning in his head. “What do you think? Of Silver Bend?”

Terry lights up. “It’s charming.”

“It is?” Bo asks.

Mom whacks him. “Best place on earth.”

“I grew up in Chicago.”

Terry says. “And right now, I live in San Francisco. It’s pretty claustrophobic. I can’t get over how much open space there is out here.”

The three of us Silver Bend natives exchange looks. The big open skies are something we take for granted. Unless there’s a particularly beautiful sunset or thunderstorm. It’s one of those things that just is. Most of the time, we categorize the open horizon as featureless. Boring.

We fit that no-frills, no confines landscape. But does she?

I don’t want to be here half the time. How can I ask someone else to move here?

I try to picture a life with her here in Silver Bend and I come up blank.

I’m remembering the Harvest Festival instead. Remembering kissing Reese, how I spoke my thoughts aloud.

It’s not always like this.

Even then, I was already aware that we were setting a standard that was going to be too hard to beat.

I knew it would be hard to compare. I had resigned myself to that. Decided to just aim for companionship. A partner. If I thought knowing all this ahead of time would help ease the pain of it, I was dead wrong.

It hurts like hell.