Page 77 of Broken
“Fuck,man, I can’t feel my shoulders.”
Miles stands in the barn, sweat dripping down his brow. His shirt is as soaked as mine. He rubs a shoulder and winces.
“Yeah, I can’t throw any more bales of hay. Fuck, you make me feel old.”
Austin’s right there with him, grumbling about today’s chores.
We flew back from Arizona late last night. There was no reason to linger. With Austin as our pilot, all we had to do was log a flight plan and we were out of there.
Miles and Austin weren’t happy with me leaving.
I wasn’t happy in general.
So to numb my mind in work, I chose stacking hay bales as our task.
It’s hard work, but it needs to be under cover so it doesn’t mold and rot. So now there’s stacks of it in the barn for the animals.
“Whatever,” I say, grabbing another bale and tossing it up onto the stack. Loose bits of hay fly through the air.
Miles sneezes.
“Look. I didn’t take you for a masochist,” Miles says.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You left yourfamilyin Arizona. Why the hell would you do that?” he pushes.
“Then you want to toss hay bales as penance?” Austin adds.
“These need to be stored for the winter. It’s not like I’m looking for shit jobs to do.”
“Really? We can fix the porch railing that Louisa’s been telling us about.”
Austin has a point.
“Or we can have one of our hands do all this shit, like normal ranchers,” Miles says.
“I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel,” I admit.
“Well, I’m feeling.” Miles winces. “I feel my shoulders and lats fucking screaming.”
“Sadie will make it all better with a massage,” I tell Miles. “Quit your grumbling.”
Miles raises his hands. “No. You quit yours. You want to blow up your life, fine. But I’m not suffering for it.”
“I didn’t blow up my life!” I yell. “My father did when he paid off Avery’s mom. Avery did when she didn’t tell me she was having my baby. When she kept it from me this past week when she was here. I wasfuckingher and she didn’t tell me!”
Austin and Miles stand there and stare, wide-eyed. Yeah, I hulked out.
“Fine, she didn’t tell you. But you have a child and you haven’t even talked to him. Is that what you want to be, an absentee father like Jonathan Bridger?”
I see red and shove Miles for those words.
“I’m nothing like him. None of us are.”
“Then prove it,” he snarls. “Get your head out of the past and look to the future. You decide what you take from our father. Know what he did, and don’t do any of it. Be a man. Be there for your kid.” Miles turns and storms out of the barn.
Austin studies me. “He’s right. You got the shaft. I’ll give you that. But you love her. You love your child, even if you haven’t met him. Go get them. Make a life. Give Jonathan Bridger the middle finger by living it with love. With them.”
