Page 63 of The Tryst

By the time I reach the farm, the sun is casting its light over the fields, painting the landscape with a soft golden hue. Normally, mornings on the farm bring a sense of peace, a promise of a new day, but not today. Today, everything feels heavy, muted, as if the world is still mourning with us. I wonder how long that will last. Or maybe this is the new normal.

I pull into the driveway, the familiar sight of the farmhouse bringing a lump to my throat. Wade should be here. He should be inside waiting to make sarcastic comments about my hair being a mess or how my snoring kept him up last night.

But he’s not. The thought still feels unreal because I just can’t accept it. It’s a bad dream I can’t wake up from.

I inhale deeply and step out of the truck, making my way to the house. It feels as if I’m walking through mud.

In the kitchen, everyone has gathered around the table. Mom is at the stove, flipping pancakes. Normally it would be Miranda cooking breakfast, but I know my mom needs something to do. She needs to be a mom now more than ever. Dad’s sitting at the head of the table, staring at his coffee cup as if it holds all the answers. Ethan is next to him, looking tired but trying to keep up a facade of normalcy as he chats with Sylvie. Kat is sitting across from Ethan, also looking tired, but when her eyes meet mine, they sharpen with frostiness. I don’t think she’s going to forgive me for letting Holland go.

“Morning,” I mutter, moving to my mom and kissing her cheek. Her palm comes to the side of my head to hold me there briefly before she releases me. I grab a cup of coffee and lean against the counter.

The usual lively chatter is absent. Instead, the only sounds are the clinking of utensils and the occasional sigh. It’s like we’re all walking on eggshells, afraid that any sudden movement might shatter us completely.

Ethan clears his throat, breaking the silence. “We need to talk about the upcoming week. There’s a lot to do on the farm, and we can’t afford to fall behind.”

Dad nods but doesn’t voice his opinion. When he turned the business over to Ethan, he let go completely.

“Lessons start back up this week.” Ethan looks to me, then Kat. His voice is hoarse. “I’ve reassigned Wade’s lessons between the two of you and I’ll take some as well until we can hire a replacement instructor. Dad’s going to take some too.”

That’s a knife to the chest. Wade’s being replaced by another instructor.

“You need to remember, some of these kids are going to be pretty broken up about Wade, so we need to be extra sensitive.”

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 themost 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 theI 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.

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