Page 30 of The Inn Dilemma

We pick our gentle swing back up in silence and enjoy the fall weather. The leaves have begun to turn, with only a few scattered across the ground. In another week or two, they will be all the colors of the autumn rainbow, and it can’t come soon enough.

“What are you thinking about?” Holt asks.

I blow on my hot chocoffee and take a tentative sip. It slightly helps quell the nerves consuming me.

Releasing a humorless chuckle, I say, “Oh, you know. Minor things like how much I missed the changing leaves in Colorado this time of year and what a complete screw up I am.”

The swing abruptly stops. When I look over at Holt, there’s something strange yet powerful in his expression.

“That’s enough self-deprecation. I hate it. Especially coming from you.”

I shuffle down the bench, putting some space between us. “I was just trying to make a joke.”

“No, you weren’t. You were just trying to cover your tracks. We may have been apart for a few years, but I know you. Stop the self-deprecation.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “It’s not like I don’t deserve it.”

Holt carefully sets his mug on the banister next to him. “You don’t deserve it. Not from your dad, not from Gladys. And not from yourself. You can’t go back and change anything. Focus on doing better now. Being better now.”

“I’m trying to,” I whisper.

“I know.” Holt takes my hand in his. It’s warm and comforting. Unlike Beau’s hands, Holt’s are work-worn and covered in calluses. “But I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that anymore. Don’t even think that way.”

He removes his hand from mine and grabs his coffee. We sit in silence, enjoying the comforting sounds of the autumn night. And I allow Holt’s words to sink down into the deepest depths of me to find a little healing.

Chapter Ten

Holt, Age 12

My life sucks. My dad doesn’t want me. I never even knew my mom. And the only reason Uncle Walt and Aunt Birdie took me in is out of obligation.

To top all that off, all Uncle Walt wants to do with me is take me hunting and fishing. The moment a hunter’s safety course opened in Denver, he had me signed up and forced me to take it. Even though I passed easily, the last thing I want to do on a Saturday morning—or any morning— is wake up before dawn and trek into the woods. But considering it’s summer and nothing Uncle Walt hunts is in season, we launch a boat on the water to go fishing.

I’ve complained many times…but he insists.

I’d rather be alone in my room playing video games. But no, we have to go out and fish for hours on end in the name of “bonding.”

A frustrated sigh leaves me as I cast my line.

“What’s on your mind, son?” Uncle Walt whispers, recasting his line.

The boat rocks gently on the water.

“I’m not your son,” I spit.

He winces. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” I should apologize, but I can’t bring myself to. Bitterness still clouds my thoughts and at this moment, my apology wouldn’t be genuine.

“You start school next week. Are you excited to make new friends?” he continues as if I didn’t just give him an attitude he didn’t deserve.

Shrugging, I say, “I guess.” No one will want to become friends with the new kid, though. Especially one who doesn’t have a mom and whose dad didn’t want him.

Dad took his trucking job as an excuse to get rid of me. He told me life as a trucker isn’t for a kid. The truth is, he doesn’t want me, and traveling nonstop was the perfect excuse to push me onto his brother and wife.

“There are some great kids in this town. Give them a chance, and I’m sure you’ll make tons of friends.” Uncle Walt sounds like he means what he’s saying. But I don’t trust it.

I give him a fake smile. “Sure I will.”

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