Page 71 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads

That finally pulled a real grin out of him, however brief, crooked, and tired around the edges it was.It made me want to kiss him and cry at the same time.Then another thought hit me.What if it wasn’t that Timothy never took a vacation… What if he simply had no one to go with on vacation?

That thought sank straight into my chest and sat there, heavy.

“I think the state fair starts next week,” I said suddenly.“Would you take a day off in the middle of the week—say Wednesday or Thursday—and take Sofia and me to the fair?”

“The big fair in Raleigh?”His startled gaze found me.“With you?”

“I’m looking for the full experience.”I pointed my beer at him for emphasis.“Not the polished Instagram version.I want the authentic, sweat-soaked, mildly miserable North Carolina fair experience.”

He leaned back a bit.“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yes.I want forty-five minutes of circling for parking while everyone in the car gets progressively more angry.I want fried food so battered my stomach hurts.I want sticky toddler fingers, stroller traffic jams, Sofia melting down halfway through because her feet hurt even though she refused to sit in the stroller twenty minutes earlier, and you dropping fifty dollars trying to win some enormous stuffed alpaca the size of a loveseat that we absolutely do not need and somehow have to buckle into a seatbelt for the drive home.”

His grin spread wider.

I continued, “I want a sunburn and powdered sugar in places powdered sugar should never be.”I lifted my brows.“The whole package.”

He released a real laugh this time, deep and easy, the kind that made his shoulders finally loosen.Then he raised his beer.“Next Wednesday.It’s a date.But only if…”

When he didn’t finish, I asked, “What?”

His eyes flickered down my body.His voice came out rough, “I get to find the lost powdered sugar.”

I touched my bottle to his.A promise.

Then softer, because this mattered more, I said, “You’re not doing as well as you want everyone to think you are.”I held his eyes.“Promise me you’ll never feed me that polished bullshit line you hand everyone else.Tell me the truth.I won’t think less of you if you admit it’s hard or things are out of control.”

He looked down at his beer and exhaled through his nose.Then nodded.

He pulled out his phone to read an incoming text and muttered, “Motherfucker.It never ends.”

“What’s wrong?”

“One of the new farm hires shattered the driver-side window of our only functional tractor.”His eyelids dropped closed as his lower jaw worked back and forth for a moment.

I blinked.“How?”

“Coby says he drove too close to a tree.”

I stared.

He kept going, dead serious.“I’m revoking his tractor privileges.Last week this kid drove into the side of the sawdust shed.Cost me two grand to fix the entryway and make sure the whole thing doesn’t collapse.The tractor has a fucking dent in the front of it.”

I choked on a laugh.“He drove into the sawdust shed?”I wiped at my eyes.“Sorry.I can’t… I mean, how?That opening is so wide you could fly a small aircraft through it.It’s basically impossible to miss.”

He turned to me, finally losing it.Full laughter broke free.He shrugged.

I asked, “Does this guy need glasses?Or maybe an exorcism?”

“I’ll ask the Baptist pastor about exorcism, but I’m pretty sure that’s not in his wheelhouse.”He laughed harder, shaking his head.

For the first time since I’d gotten in the truck, he looked lighter—like maybe for one minute he’d set down everything crushing him.

He bumped my shoulder gently with his.“I’m ready for the story about him.”

My chest tightened.I leaned back on my hands and stared up at the sky because looking at Timothy while saying any of this felt impossible.

“I met Justin a few years ago.I was fresh out of vet school, an intern who thought she knew everything, but I knew nothing.”A humorless laugh slipped out.“He was finishing his residency in equine medicine at the University of Tennessee.He was smooth and smart.”God, I’d been so stupid.“To someone green and eager, he seemed like the full package.”