Page 12 of A Bittersweet Summer

One lemon sits lonely on the top shelf next to a package of lunch meat. A few other items are scattered around the fridge, but I need to go to the grocery store tomorrow.

It’s a task that will have to wait since Cass should be in again, and I can’t leave her alone to work. Especially since Grady called off sick. Walton always has Thursdays off, and I refuse to ask him to come in and cover for any of the young kids I hire.

Walton Garth has been at the farm since I was a kid, acting as a barn manager. He knows more about horses than I could ever hope to. With a permanent scowl and rough hands that saw the back of my head often as a firm reminder to not be an idiot after I’d hit puberty, Walt is not someone I plan on asking to bend.

The sound of the screen door slamming startles me, causing me to knock my elbow into the refrigerator door so hard that needles prick at my fingertips.

“Shit,” I mutter, finding my sister, Rosemary, standing at the entrance to the kitchen, backed by the old wooden cabinets our grandparents made for the house when they built it. She’s supposed to be in Tennessee, but her presence doesn’t surprise me as much as it should. She goes wherever she wishes—always has.

“Nice greeting, Farm Boy,” she says. Her sandy blonde hair looks wild and curly, reminding me of running through muddy pastures barefoot and swimming in the pond at the bottom of the hill. The newest addition to Roe’s nose snaps me back to who my sister is now. The septum piercing glints in the dim kitchen lights, shining almost as bright as the full smile her face breaks into.

“Nice piercing, Spike. Want a sandwich?”

Gold necklaces rattle as she hops onto the counter, her black boots kicking the cabinet. “True hospitality. I’d love one!” Her heel comes in contact with the cabinet again, and I wince. It isn’t as if the paint isn’t chipped already, but many of theoriginal elements from when this house was built still remain—including the cabinets. The house is nearly one hundred years old, so I vehemently disagree with the abuse my sister is putting the handcrafted cabinets through. I certainly don’t need another thing to fix around here. “I also had a question,” she adds.

I grab the bread off the fridge and slip a butter knife from the drying rack next to the sink. Two plates later, I’m grunting my encouragement for her to ask her question as I assemble the very plain turkey sandwiches.

Roe gives up on a real response and taps her fingers on the ledge of the counter. “Surprise visit and all, I don’t have a place to stay. Is the house at the end of the drive up for grabs?”

I wipe the mayo off the knife with a paper towel and dump the cutlery into the sink with a noisy clank. “Not this time,” I answer. “Someone will be moving in any day now.”

I keep my eyes averted as I hand her a plate before digging into my own sandwich. The calories settle the gnawing hunger in my stomach.

Roe knows about Scarlett. In fact, she was privy to a number of arguments on her visits to Miller Run. And unfortunately for me, having her around for all of that gave her unwavering opinions on my love life.

“You found someone?” Roe asks, hazel eyes brightening.

I pause, watching the cogs turn with my sandwich hovering inches from my mouth. One slip about the gender of the new hire, and Roe’s sure to take an interest. At the very least, she will begin meddling.

Since Scarlett, dating has become not only less frequent, but non-existent. It’s not easy to meet women when your life revolves around your job, and you refuse to date someone who hangs around your place of employment.

I watched my parents pour everything they had into the farm, only to divorce once they parted from it. They disagreed abouteverything—how to handle Rosemary’s wild years as a teenager, how to handle our personal finances outside of Miller run, how to handle love and family.

In fact, there wasn’t a single thing I remember my parents agreeing upon aside from the horses. Letting this place go meant letting their marriage go right along with it.

I saw similarities in Scarlett and decided it was something I never wanted for myself, so I put my head down and lost myself in work.

I’m still lost, I suppose. Roe would call itno funand areal waste.

Not that she has ever been the type for relationships. Pursuing music in Nashville, Roe became just as goal-oriented as I did despite the disorganization to it all. She hardly ever has a plan—I have always been full of them.

I’ve wanted this place for as long as I can remember.

It’s home.

“Yeah,” I answer, before taking a bite of the sandwich in my hands.

“Well,” she starts, her boots thumping against the cabinet again. “Can I stay here then? I swear it won’t be for long. I wanted to see Mom and Dad tomorrow, and thought about visiting Avery for a bit.”

I shove the last bit of sandwich into my mouth, working to chew and swallow as I wipe my hands on the used paper towel from earlier. With more mayo clinging to my fingers than before, I take the last towel off the roll and use that instead.

I really need to go to the store.

“You drove all the way to Ohio from Nashville without any idea as to where you might stay?” I scold, knowing it’s nothing new.

Roe just chuckles. “I usually stay here.”

I pour a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. “Could have asked in advance,” I mutter.