Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Join the crowd, kids. Join the crowd.
Everyone sits down at the table when Mom brings the pancakes over and although I’m not hungry, I take a spot across from Kat. We pass food around and the conversation shifts to discussions about expanding the broodmare barns, but it feels forced.
Sylvie, who’s usually so full of life, sits quietly next to Dad. She picks at her food, not eating much. I glance at her, a pang of guilt knocking into me. She’s too young to be dealing with all this.
I look around the table, at the faces of my family, and I can see they’re all struggling in their own ways. But it’s me who’s the most withdrawn. I didn’t even want to be here, but Mom begged, and I couldn’t deny her. So here I am, a shell of my former self, going through the motions but feeling nothing.
My thoughts drift to Holland. It’s been two days since she left for Zurich. I had no idea she was even planning to leave. The rest of the family knew—she said goodbye to all of them before the funeral. She already had her plan in place and was ready to jet out of here before Wade was even buried.
I saw her at the funeral, of course. I was looking for her, half expecting her to still sit with us but also not surprised she stayed near the back. I didn’t think it strange Gabe went to sit with her. Grudgingly, I’ll admit it was a nice thing to do.
It was only at the house later that night as people came by to drop off food and offer more condolences, I wondered out loud to my mom that it was strange Holland hadn’t been by yet.
My mom looked at me with sympathy. “She left, darlin’.”
“Left?”
“Back to Zurich. Right after the service.”
I felt like I’d been hit with a wrecking ball. I’m not sure what I expected her to do, but leave wasn’t one of them. She was turning the printshop around and I—stupidly—thought she’d stay here. If she had done that, I could see glimpses of her here and there and wouldn’t fully lose her.
It was then that I learned she’d been by the house the day before to say her goodbyes. I wasn’t there, of course, but rather at my house, sulking.
I try to focus on the surrounding conversation, but my mind keeps wandering back to Holland. I’m devastated she left and I have no right to be. I think deep down, I thought she wasn’t going to give up. She was going to keep coming after me and then it would all be okay. But now, I don’t have Wade, and I don’t have her.
Ethan catches my eye, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Trey, you with us?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, snapping back to the present. “I’m here.”
He nods, but I can see the doubt in his eyes. Everyone’s tired of my surly attitude, my constant withdrawal. But what can I say? The guilt of losing Wade is one thing, but the pain of losing Holland is eating me alive. I can’t tell them that because I don’t want to hear what an idiot I am. I most certainly can’t let them know that my current attitude is due to me obsessing more about losing Holland than about Wade. I just don’t want to hear the I told you so’s.
The rest of breakfast passes, the conversation stilted and awkward. No one laughs. No one shares stories. It’s just business, a way to distract ourselves from the gaping hole Wade’s death has left in our lives.
As we finish eating and start to clear the table, Kat catches my eye. She gives me a small, sad smile, and I feel a small flicker of connection. But then it’s gone, and I’m back to feeling like an outsider in my own family.
We all head out to start the day’s work, and I feel hollow, despite pancakes in my belly. As I walk toward the barn, Ethan falls into step beside me. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a look that says he understands, even if he doesn’t agree.
And through it all, I keep thinking about that dream I had about Wade. It was so cryptic, so bizarre, and I still can’t figure out if he was praising me for choosing his memory over Holland or calling me an idiot for letting her go. The uncertainty eats at me, making it impossible to find any peace.
The workday stretches on, each task a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my mind. But no matter how hard I try to focus, I can’t escape the gnawing sense of loss. I lost my brother, and I lost the woman I love. And I don’t know how to move forward from here.