Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Trey

T wo days of avoiding everyone, holing up at my house, and sleeping in Wade's bedroom hasn't done much to dull the pain or guilt. It's like a heavy cloak I can't shake off. The house feels too quiet, too empty, and every corner holds a memory of Wade. I lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events that led to his death over and over in my mind.

What could I have done differently? Where did I go wrong?

The only conclusion I've come up with is that I should have stopped it at the very beginning. I should never have tried to rekindle things with Holland, because I was an idiot to not consider that Wade's feelings could resurface too. I misjudged everything, only cared about my own desires and got swept away.

But fuck… how could I not? Holland is the one for me. There will be no other and I'm well aware that I'm faced with the same dilemma I had eleven years ago. Where do my wants and needs fit in with the priority of others?

While my parents have reluctantly given me space to process on my own, Ethan's losing patience. He's the only one brave enough to force me out of my bubble. Yesterday, he called and left a terse message. "Get your ass to the farm and help unload hay bales. There's work to be done."

I knew it was more about giving me something to do than any real need for help. We canceled all lessons until after the funeral, and there are enough employees to take care of the horses. Part of me wanted to ignore him, stay buried in my grief, but in the end, I decided to go in. Maybe some hard work would get my mind off things. Mostly, I hoped it would get my mind off Holland.

I've been putting her off, telling her and my family that I need space. The truth is, I can't bear to look at her. She's a constant reminder that I turned on my brother for her and it's conflicting with this deep love I have for her. Deep down, I know it's not her fault. I'm the one who pursued her, who promised her the world. But I can't shake the thought that if I'd just left her alone, Wade would still be alive. There's a specific line of events that led to his death: Holland came home, I went after her, we fell back in love, Wade found out, an argument ensued, and Wade stormed out of the house.

Then he died.

My thoughts are still churning as I pull up to the barn. I see some of the employees unloading hay and take a moment to steel myself for the awkward condolences I know are coming. I grab my work gloves from the passenger seat, shove them on and head inside.

As expected, I'm surrounded by well-meaning folks who work for Blackburn. I accept their kind words, nod in gratitude but gruffly tell them I want to get some work done. The message is clear and they melt away, giving me space.

I focus on the task at hand, joining in to lift the square hay bales, the physical exertion a welcome distraction from the torment in my mind.

Thankfully, it works and for a blessed half hour, I'm able to concentrate only on the task at hand. My muscles burn, sweat soaks my ball cap, and I forget about the horrors of Wade dying.

But then Kat and Abby walk into the barn and reality comes crashing back. A new wave of guilt floods through me because Abby flew in two nights ago, and I haven't even seen her yet. I'm her big brother and I should be the stronger one, and yet I couldn't bear to have another sibling look at me with pity.

But Abby being Abby, she rushes over, wrapping me in a tight hug and immediately cries into my chest. I look over the top of her head while I hold her to see Kat staring at me, her arms crossed, her expression stormy. She doesn't say anything, just glares at me.

I try to ignore it, but eventually, the tension becomes too much. I straighten up, wiping sweat from my brow, and face her. "What's wrong, Kat?"

She doesn't hold back. "What's wrong? What's wrong is the way you're ignoring Holland."

I release Abby who sniffles and wipes her damp cheeks. She takes a wary step back as Kat moves in closer.

I bristle. "I'm ignoring all of you, in case that wasn't clear."

"It's clear," she sneers. "But Holland is the one you committed to love. She's the one you worked hard to regain her trust, and the minute she relents… the absolute fucking minute… you betray her again."

"I'm not betraying her," I grumble, shoving my hands into my pockets. "I'm trying to process."

"You've had plenty of time to process," she says with narrowed eyes. "Now it's time to do something about it."

"I'm still trying to figure it out," I say lamely, but truth is, I'm stuck in apathy because nothing seems right.

"You're blaming yourself for Wade's death, so you're going to punish yourself by letting go of the one thing that reminds you of it and ironically, the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"You wouldn't understand," I retort, my temper rising.

Kat's eyes flash with anger. "You think I don't understand guilt? Or loyalty? Or making decisions that put yourself first at what might be the expense of others?"

"Yeah," I yell at her, causing all heads in the barn to turn our way. "But your decisions didn't get someone killed."

"Oh, boo-hoo," she drawls, and I'm stunned by her utter lack of empathy. "You big baby. You and I both know you didn't kill Wade. A drunk driver did."

"Kat," Abby interjects, but Kat waves her off.

"No, Abby. He needs to hear this," she says fiercely. She turns back to me, her voice trembling with emotion. "Let's just say, for argument's sake, that it is your fault. I'm telling you to get over it. Forgive yourself and live your happily ever after with Holland."

I shake my head, the words bouncing off my walls of self-loathing. "I can't."

Kat throws up her hands in frustration. "Fine. Stick to this ludicrous idea that you have to give up Holland because of some penance for Wade's death. Be an idiot, but this is where you better listen up well." She moves in closer to me, poking me in the chest. "You need to man up and let her go. She's waiting for you to come to your senses, and it's not fair to her. Let her go so she can be happy."

Christ, the thought of losing Holland nearly takes my legs out from under me. I know that if I do this, she's gone forever. There are no third chances.

"Kat," I start, but she cuts me off again.

"No, Trey. You need to go tell her that it's over. She deserves that much. If you're going to wallow in this pitiful self-flagellation, don't drag her down with you."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut and I'm robbed of air. Abby steps closer, her hand on my arm. "Trey, we love you. We want you to be happy. But you need to make a decision. Either fight for Holland or let her go."

I look between my sisters, weighing their words. The truth is, I don't want to let Holland go. But the thought of facing her, of trying to reconcile my love for her versus the guilt I'm carrying, terrifies me. It feels impossible. I'm being pulled in two different directions, and I don't know which way to turn.

"I need to think," I mutter, turning away from them. I hear Kat sigh, and Abby squeezes my arm before letting go. I walk back to the hay bales, lifting another one and throwing it onto the stack, trying to drown out the noise in my head with the rhythm of work.

The physical exertion helps, but only a little. Grief and guilt press down on me and I can't shake the sensation that I'm drowning. I know Kat is right. I can't keep Holland in limbo, waiting for me to come to my senses. The guilt oppressing me is twofold—guilt for Wade and guilt for Holland. I need to make a decision, one way or the other.

The workday drags on, each minute feeling like an hour. By the time we finish, my muscles ache and I'm drenched in sweat. I want to go home, take a hot shower and crawl into bed.

But Kat's words keep echoing in my head. If I can't make a decision, it's not fair to keep Holland waiting, to keep stringing her along while I sort out my feelings. I need to talk to her, to tell her how I feel, even if it means letting her go.

?

I took the time to go home and shower before tracking Holland down. A simple text. Can we talk? Where are you?

Her response was short. I'm at my mom's house.

When I pull into the driveway, I find her sitting on the porch. It transports me back to the first time I broke up with her, right here in this very same spot.

Except she doesn't rush out to greet me with the fresh optimism of true love. She knows what's coming and her expression is stoic as I approach.

I don't sit down next to her but instead put my booted foot on the bottom step and tuck my hands in my pockets so she can't see they're shaking. I try to gather my thoughts because no matter how hard I tried to put together a cohesive explanation of my feelings, it was and remains jumbled.

The one thing I know is that I have to be honest with her. She deserves that much.

"How are you doing?" she asks, expression a bit reserved. She's already making a break.

I glance off to the side, note that her mom's house paint is peeling. "I went to the barn today. Did some work."

Holland remains quiet. I turn to face her. "Kat told me that I need to let you go."

She jerks slightly but clasps her hands in her lap, head tilted to hear more.

"She said I can't string you along. That I have to make a decision and if I can't let go of this guilt over what happened to Wade, the best thing I can do for you is let you go."

"And what do you think?" she asks.

"I think a million different things in the span of a minute, Holland. Or at least, that's how it feels. I know it's hard for anyone to understand the responsibility I'm taking for Wade's death, but I can't get past it. I mean, I could live with the guilt of hurting him, and the guilt for getting the girl he wanted and taking happiness for myself. But… I can't live with the stark reality that had you and I not reconnected, he'd be alive."

"So you're going to let me go and that will be your punishment?" Her tone is derisive, the first indication she's angry.

"Something like that," I admit. "Forgiving myself is easier said than done. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I don't want to lose you, but I also don't know how to make you happy with this poison in my gut. I'm afraid I will resent you if I'm forced to rush past this, and I can't let that happen. You don't deserve that."

"I guess I don't understand what you have to forgive yourself for. There's not one person in your family who believes you're responsible for what happened to Wade. We all blame the one person who caused this, and he paid the price because he's dead too. I don't know why you can't see that."

"Because I'm flawed," I say, almost as if it's a guess about why my conscience won't let me free of this doubt. "I can't stop thinking about the chain of events," I say, my voice breaking. "You came back, I went after you, we fell in love again, Wade found out, and he stormed out of the house. If I hadn't pushed him, he wouldn't have been on that road. It's my fault. It's so simple."

Tears spill down Holland's cheeks, and she shakes her head fiercely. "You're right. You're flawed. That is flawed thinking. This is all in your head."

"It doesn't matter," I say, taking a step back. "I can't look at you without thinking about what happened to Wade."

Holland flinches and lowers her gaze. "Then your decision should be easy."

"I'm sorry." It's all I can think to say.

She stands up, her voice ever so soft. "You're making the biggest mistake of your life. Again. You once said losing me was the worst thing that ever happened to you, and now you're doing it again. Haven't you learned anything?"

"I'm sorry," I repeat. There's nothing else I can say to make anyone understand me.

Holland nods and dusts off the back of her jeans. She turns on her heel, walking to the front door. She doesn't look back at me… not once. She steps inside, shuts the door, and just like that, we're done.

We. Are. Done.

I thought this would bring relief, that I'd be paying the ultimate price for my mistakes, and it would give me some cold comfort. But it's not. I feel like I'm ruining my life all over again and the emptiness that follows in the wake of that understanding feels like it will swallow me whole.

How is it possible that I hurt worse now?

I have no answer, only the reassurance that I deserve this pain.