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“Home. I mean, he’s probably not there, otherwise somebody would’ve found him, but I need to see it. I can’t believe we still own it. Maybe he left behind some clue about where he went. Or maybe he goes back from time to time. That’s where I’m starting.”
My interest in finding my dad was secondary to the pull I felt towards home—the farm. My home. There was an ache in my chest that would only be eased by returning there.
“I’ll go with you,” Kinsley stated.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, we have time till we need to be at the next rodeo.”
I nodded slowly.
Kinsley had never seen our farm, and truthfully, I felt uneasy about her being anywhere near my dad if he did show up. I couldn’t help wondering what kind of shape the place was in after being abandoned for so long. Even when we lived there, when Dad could barely scrape by, the farm was rundown and shabby compared to Kinsley’s family’s huge, pristine ranch.
Still, her willingness to come along and face this mess with me was reassuring.
She gave my hand a little squeeze, letting me know she’d be by my side no matter what awaited us back home. Her supportive presence was oddly comforting. I realized I didn’t have to tackle this on my own, like I’d grown used to doing.
I wanted her with me.
Chapter 28
The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert
Wyatt
“Who did Rhett get a ride home with?” Grady’s voice came from the backseat of my truck, breaking the silence that had settled over us in the late afternoon.
“Missing your BFF?” Finn mocked beside him, earning himself a punch to the arm.
The guys had joined me and Kinsley on the trip to the farm, except Rhett, who had mentioned needing to get home again, though, of course, he’d kept the reason to himself.
“I think one of the other pickup men.” I glanced over my shoulder as I turned onto a gravel road off the highway.
Beside me, Kinsley’s knee was bouncing. I put my hand over her thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. She had been quiet for most of the ride, but the guys more than made up for it.
“When’s the last time we were out here?” Finn’s question cut through the noise as we drove deeper into the countryside, the open fields stretching endlessly on either side of us.
I looked back at him in the rearview mirror, catching his eye.
“Oh, right. Never mind.” He turned his gaze back to the window.
My chest constricted the moment the house came into view.
There it was. The grass was long when I pulled onto the gravel drive to the house. Too long. Weeds had pushed through, overtaking the soft blades.
Kinsley sat up straighter beside me, taking in our approach. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
The house, at least, still stood, though the porch sagged into the ground as if trying to bury itself away from sight. The greenish-yellow paint—an eyesore even in its prime—was now peeling badly, and the shingles needed replacing. It was even worse than I had braced myself for.
I cast a side glance at Kinsley, half-expecting to see a look of disdain. To my relief, she appeared not disgusted but merely curious.
Beyond the house, the barn seemed to be in a slightly better shape. At least the horses would be more comfortable than we would. Fences were down all over the place, but I figured we should be able to rig up some sort of makeshift corral to let the horses out tomorrow.
“I’m starving,” Grady complained from the backseat. “Any chance there’s food here?”
“You’re welcome to anything in the fridge. Expiry dates are just suggestions,” I responded.
“I filled the cooler and brought my camp stove.” Kinsley rolled her eyes at me.
