Cole

"You're too late."

After a day of touring the farm with Kinsley and Noel, I'm sitting on the back porch with Jack. The fire before us crackles and sends sparks shooting into the sky.

Jack's words cause my grip to tighten around my glass of bourbon. I stare into the fire, wishing Jack would stop pressing me.

I already tried to prevent Noel from engaging with Kinsley. That shit. It did nothing. It resulted in me feeling gutted. I have no right to mess with their relationship.

"I'm not driving a wedge between Noel and Kinsley," I say. "This will play out however they please."

Jack slams his drink down, turning to me. His watery, drunk gaze pisses me off. He sways a little.

Just like his son, Jack drinks when he's upset. The only difference is Jack knows when to quit. He doesn't drink all day. He's aware of the consequences.

Most times.

Still, I don't like it.

"That's not good enough, Cole! They need to be separated. We don't want Noel to have another breakdown."

Sighing, I toss back the rest of my drink. Ice clinks against the glass as I set it down on the small table between us.

I grab the poker and stoke the fire. More sparks rise into the night sky. "Mate, Noel's heading down a dangerous pathway. He continues to refuse to go to therapy or discuss the past with me. He's bound for a breakdown. Kinsley will speed that up for him. We just need to be prepared. "

Jack's features are filled with disgust.

I adjust the flannel coat around my body. Despite the above average weather today, the heat hasn't lasted into the evening.

"He'll never recover," Jack argues.

"Rubbish. Noel's stronger than he gives himself credit for. Someone like him needs to be at an all-time low before finding their way back."

Jack snorts and grabs the bottle of bourbon. He refills his glass. "Some friend you are. You want Noel to suffer?" 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. There's no use in having this discussion when Jack's drunk. He won't remember it tomorrow. He's also belligerent when he's drunk.

"I want Noel to heal, Jack. Your grandson is my brother. But in order to heal, he needs to embrace the pain and trauma. He shuts it down. Buries it. It's poisoning him."

Jack shakes his head and leans back in his wooden chair. He sips his drink. His hand is shaking so badly the liquid sloshes over the edge.

I can't handle this anymore.

Collecting the bottle of bourbon and my empty glass, I tell Jack I'm heading to bed. He murmurs incoherent words.

The neutral look on my face fades once I'm in the kitchen. I glance at the bottle in my hand. No one is perfect. Drinking with Jack is a form of enabling. I'm enabling him to treat his emotions with alcohol. It's wrong. I have to be better.

The McLean family suffers from alcoholism and addiction. Jack's father. Jack. Noel's dad.

Noel's the only one who's broken the cycle. I hope he never succumbs to it. 

After I've put the bottle away and rinsed my glass, I exit through the front door. Walking will clear my head.

Jacks' accusations have rattled me.

I'm not a terrible friend for basing my decisions off of reality. The truth will come out.

Their pathways crossing is no coincidence.

I have to believe it's best for them.

They'll break, but maybe they can find it within each other to heal.

Glancing around, I decide I'll walk the perimeter of the property. There's a pathway at the end of the driveway I can use.

Halfway down the driveway, my phone rings.

I answer without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Cole!"

"Tristan?" I ask.

"Where are you?"

Already, I can tell Tristan's drunk. She's slurring her words.

Bloody hell. What is with people drinking tonight? Dealing with sober thoughts through a drunk mouth wasn't on my agenda. It still isn't.

"Out of town," I reply.

Any information I give Tristan will be limited from now on. Learning she was using me to get closer to Noel proves she doesn't deserve to know what's occurring in my life.

"That's not an answer."

Sighing, I kick a rock and watch it skitter down the gravel road. 

"Tristan," I say. "Don't call me again. We broke up."

I'd offer her a chance to repair our relationship, but it was never real. She confirmed that during our break up.

"Colllle," she whines. "Come on. You can't be serious."

"Dead serious. Don't call me again, Tristan. You fucked me over. I thought our relationship was real. Goodbye, Tristan."

I hang up before she can speak another word.

Frustration pulses through my veins. Tossing my phone across the surrounding fields sounds appealing. But it's not logical. Instead, I slip the goddamn thing into my pocket and trudge onward.

At the end of the driveway, next to the turnoff for the dirt pathway, I see a flashlight. It's close to me.

I frown and rub my jaw. Who the hell is walking around here? It's almost eleven. 

I stop at the corner where the lilac bushes are. They're blooming. Already, their potent scent rides the wind, filling my nostrils with a floral scent.

Gravel continues to crunch beneath the stranger's feet. It sets me on guard. This person could be a serial killer, for all I know.

The mysterious person lowers their phone.

When I see her familiar face, I'm surprised. She delivers eggs early in the morning. Not late at night. Why is she here?

At least, that's what I'm assuming she's doing. There's a bag slung over her shoulder. The same one she's been using for several years. 

I clear my throat. Old emotions rise in my chest. All I can think of is that night in the barn. When I was seventeen.

Daisy's name on my lips.

Her lips on mine and our bodies slick with sweat.

I clear my throat again. "Daisy. What are you doing here? It's almost eleven."

She laughs, erasing her shocked expression. "Cole. The McLean family is never asleep before midnight."

A tense silence fills the air. Ever since we hooked up, things have been awkward.

As if there are unsaid emotions lingering between us. Which there are. There have been for years. We've never discussed them. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because I don't like to ignite conversations. Maybe it's because Daisy ignores it.

"How've you been?" Daisy asks.

I stuff my hands in my pockets. "Good. You?"

Daisy purses her lips. "Fine."

She glances down at her egg bag. It's a tote bag covered in different pins. She thumbs a loose string.

I groan internally. Bloody hell. We're back to our one-worded answers.

"Well, uh, I wouldn't suggest visiting the farm tonight. Jack's drunk. Noel's asleep. They also have a guest."

Daisy's face falls. Not because Noel's asleep. Because Jack's drinking. "How bad is it?"

We know Jack for his slip-ups. I've experienced them. Daisy's experienced them. So has Noel.

Noel, who cuts his grandfather too much slack. He's grateful Jack took him in after the accident. It clouds his judgement.

Jack goes through phases. When he's stressed, he'll drink. This summer will be rough with Kinsley around. That's all I can say. I'm signed up for damage control whether I like it or not.

"Tonight's the first night," I shrug. "We'll see how it goes."

Daisy presses her lips into a firm line. "That man's only got one oar in the water."

I snort. She's correct. Jack's son traumatized Noel. It appears Jack cannot see that. He still continues to consume alcohol. Noel doesn't mind people have a drink or two around him. Once you pass three, he becomes agitated. It's all part of his trauma.

Disappointment consumes me. While Noel knows to avoid alcohol, he can't see the similarities between his grandpa and dad. He's not naïve. He just doesn't want to believe the truth. He wants someone to love him more than his mother or father ever did. I feel bad for the poor guy.

"Dumber than a sack of hammers," I agree.

We chuckle, and some of the tension eases.

Until more memories bombard me. Knowing where my hands, lips, and tongue have been on her body...

I rub the back of my neck.

How do I get out of here?

"Oh," Daisy says. "Before I forget." She reaches into her pocket and removes a credit card. "Kinsley forgot this at the market today."

My hand freezes on the card. "You met Kinsley?"

Daisy's brown eyes meet mine. "Yes. She's a darlin'. We discussed hanging out. Any friend of the McLean family is a friend of mine."

By McLean, she means Noel. Daisy has it out for Noel's dad and Jack. She'd murder them if she could.

But that's not where my mind is.

Something breaks. Perhaps it's the overload of emotions I'm experiencing. Maybe the longing to talk to someone who understands this situation.

Either way, the truth spills from my bloody lips. 

"Kinsley was the survivor of the accident."

Daisy's face falls again. Her grip tightens on the credit card. Her knuckles brush mine. We're both frozen. Our gazes are locked. We're processing information that's almost too much for us.

"Whoa—how? I don't understand. That's... Jesus Christ."

Despite the seriousness, I can't help but feel amused. Daisy saying the Lord's name in vain is comical.

She stares off into the distance before looking at me. "That's slicker than snot on a doorknob. How are you holding up?"

Then she glances at the credit card. We're still holding it. She lets go, grasping the strap of her bag instead.

After slipping the card into my pocket, I expel a deep breath, staring up at the night sky. "Noel doesn't know. He's falling in love with Kinsley. Kinsley doesn't know. She's trying to fight her feelings, but keeps failing. Jack wants me to act as a wedge between them." I tap my bottom lip. "Don't think I missed anything."

She presses a hand to her mouth. "That's horrible, Cole. Jack wanting you to interfere. But... but I also think you should tell them."

"So do I," I admit. "Figuring out how to is impossible."

Daisy draws her bottom lip between her teeth. She reaches out and grips my forearm, squeezing it. "Maybe we could grab a drink and brainstorm. You shouldn't bear the weight alone."

Her hand lingers on my forearm for a second too long.

I swallow. Flashbacks are prominent tonight. Questions about that night sit on my tongue.

About that year.

Why she ghosted me.

Why I ghosted her.

How shit fell apart.

"I'd like that," I choke.

She releases my arm, straightening her posture. "Right. Well, text me when you're free. Or knock on the door. You know where I live."

I do. Just after the market. It's a thirty-seven-minute walk if I cut through the corn fields. Her house is white with black trim. There's a pool in the backyard. A garden Daisy loves to tend to even in the heat of summer. Her family runs a dairy farm and they have a lot of chickens, too.

God, even in my mind I sound crazy.

"I'll see you around, Cole."

"Bye, Daisy."

She twirls a blonde curl around her finger before turning around.

Silence coats my tongue. Prevents me from speaking. I'm bloody pissed. There is no courage in my chest. To call after her.

Several seconds later, Daisy turns to me. She's about three metres away from me. "For what it's worth, I wish it would've been you."

Her voice echoes through the vast fields. Our only audience is the crickets.

My heart aches as Daisy turns around. The Wranglers she's wearing outline every curve. Gravel crunches beneath her cowgirl boots. All I do is stare after her. Until her figure, the one I memorized with my lips, disappears into the darkness.

"Me too," I whisper. "Me too."