Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I'm usually the one people confide in. I hate that I'm thinking about myself when this should be about her, but the sting is there all the same. The thought that she chose Mason’s bed hits somewhere I don’t want to look too closely at.
“She say much else?” I ask.
Mason’s expression turns serious. “She’s scared her mom’s never gonna forgive her for this. For the baby. For us.” His jaw tightens. “Thinks it’ll break her family for good.”
I let out a slow breath.
That sounds like Janey. She’d never ask for pity. She’d simply carry the hurt quietly and convince herself that if it’s broken, it must somehow be her fault.
Mason looks down at the hay scattered over the barn floor. “Sounds like her mom’s got impossible standards. Janey’s spent her whole life trying to measure up and still feels like she’s failing.”
“Damn,” I mutter.
We both know what that feels like.
Different house. Different rules. Same burden.
Mason continues, “She’s carrying a lot of guilt. Worried she’s letting everyone down. Especially her mom.”
I nod, but the doubt that has been working at me since we brought her here sharpens. It has been there from the beginning, buried under wanting her close, making room, and pretending that wanting it badly enough makes it right and real.
“You think her parents will ever accept this?” I ask. “Both of us? A baby that could belong to either one of us?”
Mason snorts, but there is no humor in it. “Not a chance in hell. Not the way she described her mom.”
I kick at a clump of dirt with my boot.
Beyond the open barn doors, the pasture glows pale with morning.
Running our own thing gives us freedom you don’t get with employment. A house that’s ours. A barn and land enough to raise a family on.
It’s a good life. One we can be proud of, and hearing someone else's hypothetical disapproval grates me. People have a way of making simple things complicated. If people want to be together, and they respect and care for each other, why does it matter if it doesn’t look like the cookie-cutter version of life?
“So what happens if they can’t accept both of us?” I ask quietly.
Mason goes still.
I keep my eyes on the dirt because if I look at him, I may lose the nerve to finish. “What if one of us could give her a more normal life? One dad for the kid. One man for her. Less scandal.” The words taste worse the farther I get into them, but I keep going. “If her parents would accept that, wouldn’t that be better for her and the kid?”
Mason turns to me fully, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you saying, Brookes?”
I shrug, but it feels forced and cowardly, like I’m trying to make sacrifice sound practical because I don’t want to admit it would gut me.
“I’m thinking out loud. You and me, we’ve always said we’d share everything. But this situation is bigger than us.” I swallow. “If it came down to it, wouldn’t it be better if at least one of us could keep her? Give them a life with fewer whispers and less judgment?”
Mason stares at me for a long beat.
Then he shakes his head, slow and hard. “No.”
I look up. “No?”
“No,” he says again. “That isn’t noble. There’s no way I could leave you on the sidelines and take Janey for myself. And I’m sure you couldn’t live that way, either. Whichever way you look at it, someone is out in the cold, and I won’t break my relationship with my brother to please someone's judgmental mother.”
Mason steps closer. “You think stepping back would make things easier for her?” His voice is low but rough with feeling. “Maybe for a minute. Maybe on paper. But Janey would still know. We’d still know. And that kid would grow up with a lie sitting at the table.”
I say nothing.
He points between us. “Janey’s mom… I know the type. Nothing will ever be good enough. That’s her game. She enjoys making Janey stretch impossibly high. She enjoys the control. It wouldn’t matter if Janey stood at the top of Mount Everest because her mom would point to the moon. And we’re a package deal, Brookes. Always have been. That doesn’t mean we own her, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean we get to decide what she chooses. It means we don’t start cutting pieces off ourselves so the world has a relationship that’s easier to swallow.”
My throat tightens at the fierceness in my brother's face.
“Janey deserves all the love being offered to her, not some watered-down version because her mother might clutch her pearls. And the baby?” His voice catches. “The baby deserves every person who’s ready to love it.”
I look away as emotion swells inside me. The barn is quiet except for the shuffle of horses and the soft creak of wood settling around us.