Page 29 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sage

“ T his could have been from the smallest ember,” the woman in front of me explained, and although I appreciated her effort to ease our guilt, her words fell on deaf ears.

I was too absorbed in my own agonizing guilt, knowing my selfishness caused this. For years, I’d built up a wall to protect myself and the moment I started breaking it down, the rest of the world came with it.

“Sage,” Miles pleaded, but I backed away from his outstretched hand.

I didn’t deserve the comfort that accompanied Miles Carver, opting instead to feel the rawness of every emotion alone.

“What are we going to do with all the cows in the pasture?” I asked, desperate to sort the logistics so I could find somewhere to recoil into myself.

“I have no idea,” Miles sighed. “They’ll have to stay in the pasture this evening until I can get the vet out to check on them all. As for the long term, I have no clue.”

“Let us put some feelers out to the community. Maybe we can work something out with a farm nearby,” my father offered.

Satisfied there was nothing left for us to help with, I turned to my mother.

“Mom, can you take me home?” I asked, purposefully ignoring the green eyes boring into me. “Now, please?”

My mother looked between Miles and I with sorrow, not only because of the tragedy in front of us but also the tragedy she was witnessing between us.

“I’ll stay here,” my father cut in.

My mother nodded in agreement, whispering something into his ear before giving him a peck goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the night, unsure of the rightful recipient.

Miles. Baker Farm. The cows. They all deserved better.

“Sage,” Miles called, grabbing my forearm as I turned to walk away. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“I really wish it didn’t, Miles, but look around. We did this.”

“I blew them out,” his voice cracked, “I love this farm, I love?—”

“Don’t,” I begged, knowing the devastation waiting at the end of his unfinished sentence.

“I’d never be careless with either,” he mustered, even after realizing the reins I had confidently allowed him to hold were no longer in his hands.

“I can’t do this right now,” I sobbed, tears cascading down my cheeks.

This time I was thankful that my mother was there to guide me away. She ushered me into her car, saying nothing until we were both buckled, and with the key hovering outside the ignition, she turned to me.

“You sure?”

My lack of objection was all she needed, and within moments we were pulling out of the driveway. She began winding the roads, heading towards my apartment, and I began to panic at the thought of being alone.

“Can I go home with you?” I asked as we passed the road to her house.

My mother immediately pulled off to the side of the road, raising her hand to swipe away the tears I was no longer able to hold back.

“Of course you can,” she said. “You can always come home.”

I’d never lived in their current house, but somehow I knew exactly what she meant. Home wasn’t attached to a certain place, but a feeling, and my brain fogged with conflict as I tried to sort what that meant for me now.

“I’m going to shower.” I sighed, walking up the steps to my parents’ home and directly into the spare bathroom.

The door closed behind me and I felt the restraint finally slip as I allowed myself to fall apart. The tears fell so quickly and so fiercely that instead of single droplets, a steady stream poured down each cheek.

I twisted the faucet, adjusting the temperature of the water to as close to burning hot as I could withstand, before discarding my clothes onto the floor.

Without leaving even a moment for my body to adjust to the heat, I stepped inside the scalding stream, desperate to feel anything that would distract me from the emotional warfare happening inside my head.

My body slumped to the bottom of the tub, head settled between my knees, and as the water cascaded onto me, I let go.

My shoulders heaved as I sobbed, carnal noises escaping that I didn’t bother to hold back.

I cried and screamed and cursed everything I knew until the water ran cool, and even then I stayed, torturing myself with the discomfort.

“Honey?” my mom called out to me as she cracked the door open. “Are you okay? ”

It may have been a subconscious cry for help or simply a lack of care, but I ignored her calls of concern. Moments later the shower curtain slid open an inch, my mother’s eyes peeking in, but my gaze stayed steady on the water circling the drain.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She sighed, cutting off the water.

I didn’t budge at first as she grasped under my arms, attempting to pull me up, but her grunts of exertion quickly knocked me from my dissociation.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, standing so my aging mother didn’t bear my entire weight.

“Shh,” she soothed, wrapping me in a warm towel. “I set some of your old clothes on the guest bed. I’ll be in with tea. Get dressed.”

Appreciating the direction, I wandered to a room I’d never utilized but always had access to.

My parents made sure that their next home was a two-bedroom just in case I ever needed a place to stay, and I remember how excited my mother was when she decorated the extra space, attempting to encompass my style in order to entice my presence.

I’d never spent the night here or showed up to their constant invites to Wednesday dinner, but she continued to extend the offer, dusting the loneliness from this room just in case I stopped by.

Her unrelenting hope, although commendable, was devastating.

My intention was never to hurt my parents, but my anger was so loud that I hadn’t heard their pleas for forgiveness.

I knew I was the reason they sold out, my prospective future ranking higher than their dreams, but I began to realize that maybe I’d held on to the hurt for too long.

Just as I’d settled into bed, tucked deep under the blankets, my mother emerged carrying two mugs of tea.

Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of me curled up and red faced.

Without hesitation, as if I hadn’t kept her at arm’s length for the last three years, she climbed into bed, pulling my head onto her lap, and as she raked her fingers through my hair, I looked up, staring at the only woman I knew had felt this loss before.

“How could this happen?” I sobbed.

“Horrible things happen.” She sighed. “The world has a funny way of testing us, but I promise you, Sage, you’re going to get through this.”

I stayed silent to the cliche response, choosing instead to settle into the comfort I’d refused myself for so long, and as my mother rubbed my back, the exhaustion took over.

Smoke filled my nose, snuffing out my desperate attempts to fill my lungs with air as I tried to get to him.

I crawled slowly, but every inch I gained drained the reservoir of oxygen that had steadily depleted.

The heat nipped at my skin, flames climbing the walls around me, but the true pain was what rippled through me as I reached Miles’ lifeless body.

I sat upright, clutching my chest as I looked around. No flames. No Smoke. No Miles. Sun spilled into the room and the panic lessened as I began to orient myself. I clung to the comfort my mother poured into this room, using each tailored nicknack to ground me back to reality.

It took mere seconds for every detail to flood back into my mind and I instantly yearned for the few moments of bliss I’d felt before remembering everything I’d lost. Unable to escape reality, I grabbed my phone, tapping the screen to reveal dozens of missed calls and even more texts.

Ruby’s messages were the most recent, and the tears began again as I read her condolences along with her threats that if I didn’t keep her updated, she’d be here to watch over me.

I searched for Jane’s name amongst the unread messages, hoping to arrange a few days off, but when I finally found it, she’d already sent me a text.

Take the week. Call me when you’re ready. I’m so sorry.

Relief coursed through me. It was Sunday and I couldn’t stomach the idea of stumbling through the workday tomorrow, knowing I’d have to feign some semblance of togetherness.

The night’s memories had steadily trickled back into my mind, but the guilt hit me all at once as the image of Miles’ face resurfaced, the pain of my departure etched perfectly in his expression.

I needed to see him, see the cows, see the damage now that we had the light of day, and in an attempt to avoid my parents, I tiptoed through the house, throwing on my shoes before grabbing my mom’s keys and rushing out the door.

My heart sank at the blackened building that came into view as I pulled in.

Bits of the structure struggled to stay upright, encapsulating small untouched areas that eerily distinguished the pile of ash.

As I peeled my eyes away from the disaster, I quickly realized there was no one here.

Miles’ truck was gone, and the pasture was empty.

Choosing not to linger, I headed back the way I came, and when I pulled back into my parent’s driveway I sat until I could no longer handle not knowing. Without thinking I dialed his number, nervously tapping my foot as the line continued to ring.

“Hello,” he answered curtly, his voice echoing as if he was still in his truck.

“Where are they?” I questioned, ignoring the tension between us while simultaneously soaking in the comfort his voice brought me.

“A barn a few towns over offered to take them in until I sort everything out.”

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” I whispered.

“Yeah, well you left, Sage,” he muttered. “Turns out when the light disappears, the world just continues on in the dark.”