Chapter 27

27

B ryce Young left the farmhouse through the front door just as a rowdy round of laughter filled the whole world. His uncles could be so loud, and he hurried to pull the door closed behind him.

The silence enclosing around him actually made his ears buzz with the absence of noise, and he reached for the guitar he'd left propped in the corner from that morning's lessons. He'd loved giving those this summer, but he'd decided to take a break for the next couple of weeks until everyone got settled into school.

Three more days , he thought as he settled onto the top step and laid the guitar across his lap. School started on a Tuesday, and why it wasn't Monday, Bryce didn't know. He didn't much care. He had a new backpack, and his father had bought him plenty of new clothes Bryce didn't even need.

He wouldn't know a single other senior, as the few teens he knew were younger than him. He often felt trapped between two worlds. He wasn't quite an adult, but he didn't really belong in the child column either. Right now, his younger cousins had gathered downstairs in the basement to watch a cartoon while their dads worked through the songs which had been approved by their music moguls.

Joey was seven, Corrine four, Boston seven, and Harry eleven. Bryce felt decades older than them, though he was technically only six years above Harry.

He also didn't quite fit in with the band inside. Mav had come, and he wasn't technically part of the band either, but he was in the same generation as the other Young men in the house. Bryce wasn't. He once again existed on the cusp of a group, and he wasn't sure where he belonged.

Other than here with his dad, that was.

He looked down at the guitar, his fingers sliding along the familiar strings. His dad had given him guitar lessons every time he was home, and he'd funded them over the years. This instrument had saved Bryce on more than one occasion. His father had too.

When his mom drank too much and started sobbing and screaming, Bryce could escape to his room, lock the door, and play over the noise she made. Bryce had told his dad, and his mom didn't drink anymore. At least at home.

Then, if she brought home her boyfriend of the week, Bryce could once again retreat to his room, lock the door, and play to drown out whatever he didn't want to hear. He'd told his father about that too, and his mother stopped bringing men home. She still dated a lot, but Bryce didn't have to know about it.

In truth, his father had been there for him every single time Bryce had needed him. He loved his dad with a power he couldn't fathom, because his father had always come to his rescue and protected him, no matter where he was physically.

Sometimes, Bryce wondered what his life would've been like had his parents stayed together, or if he'd lived with his dad full-time instead of his mom. He dismissed the first scenario, because he didn't want to waste his imagination on what-ifs. What would be the point? To make himself feel bad about what he hadn't had?

The second he currently enjoyed, so he didn't spend any time trying to figure out if he should've asked to be with his father at an earlier age. He traveled so much, and it wouldn't have been possible.

Bryce thought he heard a voice floating on the air, and he looked up from the strings. He glanced south, where his ears thought the sound had come from, but the road in front of the house remained as empty as ever. Their ranch extended that way for about three-quarters of a mile, and Bryce saw no one.

He plucked a few chords, his throat starting to hum with a song. He'd played and practiced with the boys inside on the two songs he'd be performing with them. Their plans for a tour weren't solid. They weren't even a gel. At this point, anything could happen, and the record wasn't even done yet. They hadn't even started recording, but apparently everyone had to memorize everything before they got into the studio, and now Dad worried that it would be done before they'd be ready to use it.

He shook his head, smiling at the way his father worried over so many things.

His head jerked up and left this time, looking north toward the Ingalls' place as he heard the voice again. He couldn't make out what it said, nor if it was a man or a woman, but something whispered inside his brain that he better go see who needed help.

He stood and leaned his guitar back into the corner of the house and jumped from the porch. He went toward Wade's house, but the man's truck wasn't in the driveway. Bryce had already been next door this morning to help with the chores, just like he usually did. Sometimes Wade drove further onto their farm and parked back by the barns.

The Ingalls owned about half as much land as his dad had bought on their ranch. Wade had told him once that it was a hundred and ten acres, and Bryce knew they owned two hundred. Wade and Abby took care of a half-dozen horses, three or four dairy cows, a whole mess of chickens, and a couple of pigs.

Wade had laughed as he'd told Bryce about the other animals they'd raised over the years. "Every few years or so, I get a hankering to raise a side of beef. So I'll do that. One year I got three turkeys and raised up right, just to eat ‘em for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

The pigs they had now, in fact, would become dinner at some point. Wade kept a good farm, and past the huge garden that he and Abby worked all summer long sat the enormous chicken coop. The stable stood on the other side of the road, and down past that waited a pair of barns.

Wade kept one full of hay and the other housed supplies, tools, and tack. Out past the stables, the fields took over, most of them filled with hay. An equipment shed stood out there too, and all of the tractors and equipment that Wade used had been specially fitted so he could drive it without his legs.

Bryce walked past the garden, which still held plenty of green and producing things, another yell filling the air. Alarms rang in his head, one voice yelling at him to, Run!

Breaking into a sprint, he called, "Wade!"

"Bryce!"

"Where are you?" He rounded the corner, the stable right in front of him. Wade's truck sat parked there, but Bryce couldn't see him. "Wade?"

"Behind the stable," the man yelled, and Bryce took off past the truck and then to his left when he reached the corner of the stable. Wade's wheelchair came into view, and seeing it toppled onto its side made Bryce's blood run cold.

"Wade," he said, his heart pounding, because he still didn't see the man. "Wade!"

"Right here."

Bryce burst past the edge of the stable, the whole of the farm coming into view. Wade lay on the ground at least fifteen or twenty feet from his fallen chair. Bryce rushed toward him, taking in the blood on the man's face, hands, and arms.

"What happened?" he asked, falling to his knees and skidding a little. Pain fired at him for only a moment, and then it faded under the adrenaline coursing through him. He didn't know where to put his hands, and his first thought was to call his dad.

"I called Abby already," Wade said, putting his hand on Bryce's shoulder. "She's on her way out."

"What can I do?" Bryce asked. Get the chair. Get him in it. He jumped to his feet and said, "I'll help you back into your chair." He jogged over to it, grabbed it, and sat it upright. It went across the gravel and slightly rutted ground to where Wade now sat up.

"My ribs hurt," he said, the only time Bryce had ever heard him complain. "There was a wild dog, and it came out of the stable right as Aristotle and I got back. The horse spooked, reared up, and threw me."

He nodded toward the corner of the paddock. "He's over there now, actin' like a cat and keepin' his head down, as if he can't see me then I won't be able to see him." Wade shook his head, and Bryce hoped he hadn't hit that too hard.

"You've got a lot of blood on you," he said. "Let me check your head."

"It's from my hands." Wade held up his right one. "This one caught most of my fall, along with my ribs and back, and it got cut up on the gravel." His right hand still wept blood, and Bryce wasn't convinced that was the man's only injury.

He held the chair still by putting on the brakes and bracing the front wheel with his foot. Wade put his left hand on Bryce's shoulder, and Bryce said, "One, two, three."

Wade did most of the work, pressing hard on Bryce to get himself up. He twisted and turned in midair, landing in his chair the right way. He groaned, and Bryce quickly released the brake on the chair.

He moved behind it and started pushing.

"I can do it."

"Nope," Bryce said. "I've got you. House or stable?"

"House," Wade said, tucking his bleeding hand inside his shirt and holding it tightly with the other one.

Bryce couldn't push and text, so he paused for a moment to take out his phone to dial.

"I tried your dad," Wade said. "You too. You guys didn't answer."

Bryce frowned. "My dad's got all his brothers over. They're practicing their set. But I was just on the front porch." He hadn't heard his phone ring or chime. As he looked at it, he did have a missed call.

From ten minutes ago.

Fear and regret made his blood run cold. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I was inside when you called, and it's so loud in there."

"It's fine," Wade said, his voice tough and resigned. "Abby's almost here."

"Where's she been?" Bryce asked, his voice pitching up. He could admit he liked Abby a whole lot. She spoke to him like a regular person, and he'd enjoyed getting to know her as they did chores together on the farm. "Haven't seen her the past couple of mornings."

"Hiding," Wade said darkly. He looked up at Bryce. "Hey, we should work on her together. See if she'll go talk to your dad. She's a right mess. Been stayin' at her friend Georgia's house, because she didn't want to run into him."

Bryce frowned and looked down the driveway once he turned the corner. "Is she still mad at him?"

"She never was mad," Wade said. "She just has a mouth that she can't control sometimes. Happens to the best of us."

"My dad wouldn't really say what happened," he said. "Just that they'd broken up." He looked to the farmhouse he and his father had spent so much time, effort, and money on that summer. "He's not super happy with himself with what happened."

"Wait'll you see Abs," Wade said. Her SUV came into view, and she dang near took the corner on two wheels she pulled into the driveway so fast. Bryce met her eyes, and he found pure panic in hers.

As they registered him, she relaxed. She still jammed the car in park before it had come to complete stop and jumped from it in the next moment. "Wade!" She ran toward them, arriving several seconds later. "My word, you're covered in blood. Where are you hurt the most?" She pulled a wad of brown paper napkins from her pocket. "This is all I had in the car, but it'll be okay. We'll get you inside and get you cleaned up, and?—"

"Abby," he said, cutting her off. Bryce was glad about that, because he wasn't sure how much higher her voice could get. "I'm fine."

Her hands fluttered with the napkins, and Wade took them from her. "Bryce here helped me back into the chair. I think the biggest problem is gonna be the ribs."

"Did you break one?" She fell into stride on Wade's right side, and Bryce noted that she didn't look toward his house, not once.

He pushed Wade up the ramp while he continued to tell Abby he was fine. No, he hadn't broken his legs, either of them. No, his head didn't hurt. No, he wasn't bleeding anywhere that he knew of besides his hands and lower arms. No, he wasn't going to the hospital. No, he hadn't called Cheryl yet.

Inside the house, Abby flew into motion, getting several clean cloths warm and mopping the mess from her brother's face and ears. Sure enough, he hadn't been cut on his face. The only scrape Bryce could see sat along the back of his neck, and Abby handed him a first aid kit and told him to bandage it.

Bryce did that, all while he kept his mouth shut. Abby had plenty to say about Aristotle, and once Bryce was convinced Wade wasn't going to bleed out, he met the man's eyes.

Wade nodded, clearly not enthused about the lecture he was enduring.

"I'll go put Aristotle back in the stable," he said in a brief pause while Abby took a breath.

"Thank you, Bryce," she and Wade said together, and he ducked out of the house. He went back down the ramp and back out to the stable. He coaxed the horse away from the fence and into the building, taking several long minutes to brush him down, give him a treat, and make sure he was safe and secure in his stall.

He could just go home now, but one look at his shirt, and everyone next door would freak the heck out if he walked in like that. Covered in blood. So he went back up the ramp and into the Ingalls house.

Wade wasn't in the kitchen anymore, but Abby was. She stood at the sink, rinsing cloths, and she looked over her shoulder when Bryce entered. "You dear boy," she said, wringing the life out of one rag. "Come get cleaned up. You have blood all over you too."

"I didn't hear him call," Bryce said, his adrenaline gone and some numbness starting to set in. He sniffled, and he wasn't sure why he was suddenly so emotional. "He called my dad, and then me, and we didn't answer."

Abby turned fully, pure sympathy on her face. "It's not your fault, Bryce." He rushed at her, and she opened her arms to him. "Come on, now," she said, her voice soothing and quiet. "You heard him calling, and you came. That's all that matters."

Bryce closed his eyes, and he saw Wade down on the ground, all that blood everywhere…. He sobbed into Abby's shoulder, and while he probably stood a foot taller than her, she offered him maternal comfort and support in a way he'd never gotten from his own mother.

"Sorry," he said only a few seconds later. He stepped back and took the warm washcloth she offered him. He covered his face with it, breathing in the moist heat and taking a moment to further compose himself. He wiped up through his hair and down to his collar. "I don't know what that was."

"You were scared," she said, taking the cloth and handing him another. "Because you love Wade."

"Yeah," he said. He used this rag to wipe his hands clean, going all the way up to his elbows. "Just like you love my dad."

She sucked in a breath, and Bryce kept his head down but lifted his eyes. "Right?"

"Bryce," she said. "I don't—I don't know what to tell you."

An idea popped into his head. He could see the whole scene in front of him in less time than it took for him to take a breath. "Come next door with me," he said. "He's home right now, and he wants to see you."

She started to shake her head before he finished talking, but Bryce leaned forward, his enthusiasm and excitement back. "Please, Abby."

"I saw the mess of trucks," she whispered. "All your uncles are there."

"Yeah," Bryce said. "Abs, that's the perfect time to walk in. Remember when Dani showed up at the hotel for Mav? And we were all there? I mean, you weren't there, but I was there. Dad was there. Dad helped her make sure the band was there, so everyone would know how crazy she was for him." He grinned at her. "They're all there, Abby."

She looked like she might throw up. "First, I'm not Dani. Secondly, I don't even know what to say."

"You won't have to say anything," Bryce said, his imagination taking the scene and morphing it. "Trust me. I know my dad, and I know my uncles. You walk in, and…my dad will take over. He'll say everything, and then all you'll have to do is kiss him." He grinned at her. "Please? Come on, we can go right now."

"I can't go," she said. "Wade is here, and he?—"

"Wants you to go next door," Wade said from the doorway. He wore his prosthetic legs now, and he leaned against the doorframe, all evidence of his tumble gone. He'd changed his clothes, and the bottom part of his legs extended out of his shorts. "If you don't go next door, I will, because I need help with the chores this afternoon. I'm gonna ask Tex. So he'll come over here, because then I'll have to invite him to dinner. And you're here, and you won't leave, because my rib might be broken."

He lifted his shoulder, a grimace marring his normally handsome face. "Maybe two or three of ‘em."

Abby's eyes were as wide as Bryce had ever seen them, and she looked from Wade to him. He took her hand in his. "I'll go with you, and anything that's too hard for you to do alone, I'll do for you."

"Go," Wade said, and Bryce sent up a prayer that the Lord would soften her stubbornness enough to get her to take the first step.

Abby turned toward the door, and Bryce took the first step.

She took the second.