Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Red Bridge Feed & Grain sits behind the hardware store, a small, squat brick building with a tin roof that rattles in the wind, and I pull into the gravel parking lot.
“Fuck me, what a waste of money this is going to be,” Randy mutters as I shut off the engine. “How about you let me handle this one? Last time, I know we could’ve gotten him to come down on his price at least twenty or thirty bucks if you hadn’t been so nice.”
“By all means, have at it, brother.”
On a huff, he hops out of the truck and marches inside to haggle with poor Mr. Donnelly like it’s a sport. And I climb out of the driver’s side to get some fresh air and lean against the hood of my truck.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see Incoming Call Dad on the screen.
I swipe. “Hey, old man.”
“Hey, stranger,” Dad rumbles, and I can hear what sounds like poker chips clattering in the background. I guess my dad’s and Uncle Cal’s Caribbean cruise has got them spending far too much time in the casino on the boat. “You busy?”
“Depends on what you’d call busy. Randy’s in the feed store, and I’m outside waiting on him.”
“Uh-oh.” He chuckles. “You run out of feed again and have to buy local?”
I sigh. “Randy needs to stop bitching to you so much.”
“In his defense, Tad, it wasn’t his idea to move to small-town Vermont and run a sheep farm. Bitching is his coping mechanism.”
“I didn’t force him to follow me here ten years ago, and I’m not making him stay now. I’m in my forties. Pretty sure I can handle my own shit.”
“He’s your big brother,” my dad tosses back. “He’s protective. And in your own damn words, it’s been ten years. His life is in Red Bridge now, whether the two of you like it or not.”
He’s not wrong. Randy’s life is in Red Bridge now, and if I’m being frank with myself, things wouldn’t feel right if he weren’t here. Though, I’d more than support his choice to leave and finally choose himself over being worried about my bullshit.
“Dammit,” he snaps, a teasing laugh preceding something unintelligible from my uncle Cal. “You’re not the only one with a pain in the ass sibling, son. Count your blessings for good old boy Rando. You could have a poker cheat for a brother like me.”
“I’m not a cheat. Your father is just inferior,” Uncle Cal says, leaning into the phone enough for me to hear him clearly.
I laugh and sigh at the same time. “There a reason you called while you’re cruising the Caribbean seas? I don’t wanna cut you short, but I’ve got shit to do.”
“Relax, son.” His responding chuckle sounds weathered but warm. “I’m just checking in while we have a day at sea. I won’t keep you long.”
Dad and Uncle Cal are retired firefighters, brothers like Randy and me, and Chicago born and bred like us too. They were the backbone of my entire childhood. Shifts at the fire station together, softball games on their off days, and Sunday cookouts in the backyard, they’ve been inseparable since birth.
Now they’re balls deep into retirement and spend their days on golf trips, poker nights, and vacations with other retirees from their station.
I love them both dearly, but I’m not naïve enough to think they’re calling me from a fucking cruise for any reason other than to take the temperature of my mental state.
“So…everything all right out there?” he asks subtly, diving predictably into probing. He and Randy are two peas in a pod when it comes to checking in on me.
And is everything all right? I mean, the sheep are fine. The fences mostly hold. Randy’s still Randy. But lately, my nights don’t end alone.
Instantly, my mind pictures Breezy, her bare feet padding across my kitchen floor, my shirt sliding off one shoulder, and her laugh wrapping around me like something I shouldn’t need as much as I do. She’s still here in Red Bridge. And somehow, that feels like the best and worst kind of relief.
I still don’t know the whys or hows of what brought her here—has kept her here for the past month—or when she’s going to leave. But that probably stems from the casualness we agreed to.
Though, Breezy did say she’s just taking things day by day and doesn’t plan to become a permanent fixture here.
And I tell myself that’s a good thing. But do you actually believe it?
“You still there, bud?” Dad asks.
“Yeah,” I answer quickly, voice flat enough to hide what’s under it. “And everything’s all right.”
He hums like he doesn’t buy it. “You sure things are good in that small town of yours?”
In the background, Cal yells, “Don’t let him fool you, Freddy! That boy was always a bit of a ladies’ man. Probably busy dating half the women in that Podunk paradise by now.”