Page 68 of Milked

“Of course you can.”

“I’m not sure I can do anything more than that without Finn. It feels weird if it’s not both of you together with me.”

I huffed a laugh. “We’ll do what makes all of us comfortable.”

That night, Ryder had his body pressed against me, one leg over mine and his head on my arm as I rested on my back, holding him.

Sometimes, just intimacy and holding someone like this was everything. I always missed Finn when he traveled, and my bed felt empty. Ryder filled that void in me.

At some point, we would have to talk about Ryder moving in with us. He belonged here.

Chapter 23

Ryder

Ispentthenextmorning with my roommates as I packed for my trip the following day, telling them everything. I didn’t go into as many details as I had with Knox and Finn, but it was enough, and they understood why I’d been so off.

I got a lot of hugs and reassurance, along with Luna trying to talk me into meditating. Perhaps when I got back, I would.

Knox had a car waiting for me to take me to Reagan International Airport, where I caught a flight out to Omaha. I planned to call anUberto take me home.

The flight was only three hours, but Knox was sweet enough to put me into first class so I could fly in comfort. I may have had a few drinks to calm my nerves.

It was a busy time of year for our farm, with corn harvesting happening between September and November. We didn’t have a massive farm, about three hundred and twenty acres, but it was big enough to have workers helping in the field. Because it was mid-October, the corn would probably still be there. Father usually harvested around then.

My parents knew I was coming. The relief was palpable when I talked to them over the phone. You could hear it in their voices, which only sent another wave of guilt through me, but I was more prepared this time than I had been the last time. As soon as Bryce’s trial had ended, I fled back to DC.

When the plane landed, I grabbed my carry-on and made my way through the small airport to where I’d grab a car. However, when I passed the baggage claim, I stopped in my tracks, my heart suddenly stopping.

My parents came.

As soon as I saw them, my lip trembled, and my eyes watered. They, too, were barely holding it together as they held each other.

When I stepped up to them, they both lunged at me and pulled me into a hug as Mom sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” was all I could say. Those were the only words I could get out.

Dad drove us to the farm thirty minutes away, and we all sat in an awkward silence. At least, it was for me. I stared out the window at all the farmland, and the trees were starting to change color. The sun hovered lower in the sky as it got ready to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

When we pulled up to the house, my heart beat a little faster as my entire childhood flashed in my mind, including those memories with Rowan.

Once inside, I left my carry-on by the stairs and made my way to the kitchen, where Mom shoved a casserole into the oven.

Fuck, the kitchen made everything even worse. It was where we spent countless meals, talking, laughing, getting lectured… But mostly, Rowan was just a ghost in every nook and cranny of this house. How could my parents stand being here? All I wanted to do was run away from it again. It was suffocating.

The place looked exactly the same, with white curtains, pale yellow walls, and white cabinetry. The farmhouse was nearly a hundred years old, but they fixed it up as much as their money allowed.

In fact, I asked them that very question. “How can you stand being here with memories of Rowan everywhere?”

Mom gasped with her back to me, staring out the kitchen window as the sun started to set, while Dad sat at the kitchen table, grinding his jaw. My parents were in their early fifties, but they looked so much older. Did grief do that? When you lose a child, do you age? Did I?

Dad stood, went to the fridge, pulled out two bottles of beer, and poured Mom a glass of some white wine. As dinner warmed up, we all sat down at the table.

Mom tucked a fallen strand of dark hair, threaded with gray, behind her ear. It had gotten longer, and she had most of it pulled back into a hair clip. Dad’s hair was grayer and thinner.

Rowan and I looked more like Mom, with her hazel eyes, but my sister had a few more features from our dad, like his thicker brows and stronger nose. Regardless, everyone in town could tell we were siblings.

Mom sniffed and took a sip of her wine. “Because it’s all we have left of her… and you. You’re alive, but you’re… not here anymore. You didn’t just move away. You left us. I know why you did it. Sometimes I just want to run, too, but… we lost two children that day.”

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