Page 86 of The Front Runner
Talk about things I never thought would happen. We’re both pretty sure he’s my dad. The timing works out. We’ll get a DNA test done to confirm. It all makes sense. Except my mom’s decisions. Those will never make sense to me. Hank says he begged her to stay. He says he loved her.
That part was hard to hear.
Just like me, having to tell him what became of her life was hard for him to hear. I’m not above admitting that we both shed a few tears over the course of our two-hour conversation. We have that in common too, I guess.
And now, we’re walking down the driveway toward the farm, both a bit tipsy, because Hank wants to see Loki.
“See that lake?” I point to the small body of water at the base of the valley. “Or pond? Slough? I call it a lake, but maybe it’s too small.”
“It can be whatever you want it to be.” Hank laughs, hands in his pockets, strolling down the driveway with a tipsy grin on his face.
His smile melts off the minute I drunkenly blurt out, “That’s where I spread her ashes.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his eyes gaze out over the sparkling water reflecting the clouds on its still surface. “I think she’d have loved it here.” His voice is thick with emotion, and I instantly regret saying anything. I immediately start beating myself up about it, staring at the ground, wondering why I would blurt that out. I’m so accustomed to walking on eggshells around people that I’m taken by surprise when a warm hand lands on my shoulder.
“Thank you for telling me.” He smiles a real smile. “It’s nice to know where she is.”
I feel like a little kid. A sad little kid with daddy issues basking in the glow of someone with kind hands and a friendly face. I’ve spent so many years dreaming of this day, and somehow it still doesn’t seem real. I feel like I’m hovering above, looking down at myself.
And it’s not just the whiskey.
We walk side by side in a companionable silence until we reach the stable parking lot and come face to face with Mira’s big Gold Rush Veterinary Services truck parked in front of the large sliding doors.
I go rigid and stop in my tracks. I’m not prepared to see her. I have too many feelings to process first. I said things last night I wish I hadn’t said. Things I’m not ready to apologize for yet. To be honest, I’m still not sure they warrant an apology.
I still can’t believe she kept this to herself.
I catch sight of her in Farrah and Loki’s paddock, doing her daily check, stooped down over her workbox full of needles and bottles.
“You should talk to her,” Hank says.
“I…” I get lost soaking up the expression of concentration on her face. The way her intelligent eyes dart around, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip while she looks for something. My first instinct is to rush over and help her.
I wonder if that need will ever wane.
“I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“I’m not telling you what you need to say to her. Only that you need to talk to her. You both need closure.Ifthat’s what you want. She’s a tough cookie. She’s not an open book, but she has a good heart. She came to your defense on more than one occasion. That woman cares about you. Don’t doubt that for a moment. Because we all only have so many moments left to live.” He looks over at the lake thoughtfully before adding, “I’m going to go have a chat with your mom.”
And with one final squeeze of my shoulder, he’s gone, strolling away like giving fatherly advice is something he’s been doing for me my entire life.
His movement catches Mira’s attention, and she stands abruptly to stare at him before her eyes search the driveway for me. And when her eyes meet mine, emotion moves between us. There’s always been a palpable tension between Mira and I—something that hasn’t lessened just because I broke it off last night.
It might even be stronger. It feels like there’s an elastic between us, and I’ve pulled it taut by yanking myself away. I wonder if the more I pull away, the harder we’ll collide.
I wonder if we’ll survive the collision.
“Hi,” she says tentatively as I move toward her.
“Hey.” My voice is slightly slurred, and I stop a few meters away.
I don’t trust myself to get any closer, and at least this proximity has eased the throbbing in my chest. As long as I don’t get lost in her eyes. Her wide onyx eyes, the ones that give everything away lately. Every thought and feeling. Every insecurity.
Today they look sad. Devastated even.
We stare at each other stupidly. Awkwardly. Two intelligent adults who’ve shared one another’s deepest, darkest secrets and still can’t think of a damn thing to say.
“I need you to listen to me. I don’t need you to respond. I don’t even need you to understand. I just want the opportunity to present my reasoning for what I did. Then I’ll leave. I promise.”
