"Let it be, Pop." I didn't want to answer questions about her.

He ignored me. "Are you going to do right by that girl?"

"Pop." I turned toward him, set the pitchfork up against the side of the wall. "What are you talking about? Me and June, we're not anything."

He looked at me, his gaze unyielding. "Son, you and June have always been something. You've been something since the day you met. Now, I stood by and watched you throw everything away, push away everyone who loved and cared about you, when you ran off to California with the biker gang."

"Pop, I - "

He held up a hand. "Son, you're going to let me finish. I've been wanting to say this for some time now, and I'm going to say it. Now, I was right proud of you when you became a Marine. I was bursting with pride when you got the Silver Star. And I thought about what you said, about not really wanting to know what you did, being a sniper."

"I don't want to hear about how disappointed you are, dad. I've heard it enough."

"Cade Austin," he said, his voice clipped. "Let me finish."

I knew my dad meant business when he got that tone. But as much as I didn't want a lecture from him about how I was ruining my life, I also knew better than to just walk away. No matter how much I wanted to.

"You were right about me not really knowing what you did. I didn't want to think about how those deployments affected you." He kicked the hay on the floor around absently, looking down at his dusty boot. "I liked having you be a Marine, someone I could be proud of. But that was selfish. I didn't see the wear on you, not back then."

I swallowed hard. My dad was a man of few words. He never talked like this.

"When you got out, when you came back home for a couple weeks, your mother saw it. She said you were hurting. But I refused to think that way. I just couldn't see it."

"I was fine, dad." But I wasn't. I hadn't been fine in a long time.

"I'm a stubborn old man," he said. "I was wrong. Your mother was right. When you left to go to California, to work at the warehouse, I thought it was for the best. I thought it would be a fresh start for you."

I dropped my eyes to the floor. Here comes the guilt trip, the talk about the MC, I thought.

"I was angry when you joined the MC, couldn't see how you didn't understand you were throwing your life away. Now, I know - "

I laughed. "Now you see that I'm throwing everything away? Sorry to disappoint you, dad. I'm not the prodigal son you'd hoped for."

"No, you're not a prodigal son," he said. "You're just my son. You always have been, and you always will be. That's true, whether you're in the biker gang or you're not."

I hadn't cried in years, but I felt a lump in my throat. I cleared my throat, not able to look up and meet his gaze. "Okay."

"I know I've not been the best father," he said. "And I'm no good with words. Expressing things has never been my strong suit. Your mother complained about that fact until the day she died. But I do hope you know that I love you, Cade."

Jesus, I wasn't about to start crying here.

I cleared my throat again. "I love you too, dad."

My dad nodded, his eyes reddening. Then he coughed. "All this hay in here," he explained. "It's making my eyes water."

"Yeah, mine too," I said.

My dad was silent for a few minutes before he finally spoke again. "Now, I got one more thing to say, and I'm done saying my piece. And you're going to stand there and listen to me."

Oh, h.e.l.l. We were about to go back to talking about June again.

"Now, that girl over there, I don't know what's going on with you -"

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing, dad."

"It's not 'nothing'. She loves you," he said.

"Dad, June doesn't love - "

"That girl loves you," he interrupted. "And you love her. I've seen the way you two have looked at each other since you got back here. You might not care to admit it, but it's true. The two of you have loved each other since you were kids."

"She doesn't need me. She doesn't need my s.h.i.t," I said. Trying to convince myself.

He shook his head. "No, she doesn't need your bulls.h.i.t. But the rest of it, well, June's a big girl, and she can handle herself."

"I'm leaving here anyway. Crunch and I can't stay. And June - there's just no point, dad."

"You tell yourself what you want. You want to continue intent on self-destruction, well, it pains me to see it, but I won't stop you. But at least be honest with yourself about what you're doing. You walk away from her, it's not about protecting her. It's about protecting yourself." My dad turned, heading toward the barn door. "Make sure you get that stall in the corner. Crunch is up in the house. I'm going to go put together some lunch."

I watched him walk away.

That girl loves you.

Maybe that was true, but love wasn't really enough. Life wasn't a f.u.c.king fairy tale, and sometimes, love didn't really conquer all.

Crunch looked up from his computer when I came inside, a smug smile on his face. "You've been gone a while, Axe," he said.

"I don't want to hear about it."

He grinned, not realizing how irritated I already was. "April and I had a bet on how long it would take for the two of you to get together."

"Christ, I don't want to hear about this right now. I'm going to take a shower. I stink to high heaven after mucking out those stalls."

Crunch laughed. "I got ahold of Blaze," he said.

I stopped. "You talked to him?"

He shook his head. "Not on the phone. Emailed him."

"Is that safe?"

He c.o.c.ked his head to the side, giving me his most patronizing look. "You're going to ask me whether I know what I'm doing, contacting someone securely through email?"

"Fine, whatever. It's secure. What's the deal?"

"They're in Vietnam right now. They'll head back to Cali. It won't be for a few days."

"They're not going to the clubhouse."

He shook his head. "Come on, man. Give them some credit. I a.s.sume they'll lie low at Benicio's. It would make the most sense. I didn't ask."

"Okay," I said. "Good to know."

So we'd need to hit the road in a couple days. If I needed a good reason to stop what was going on with June, it just got handed to me on a silver platter.

"You're all coming to the birthday tomorrow night," my dad said. "Pa.s.s those peas over here." He took the bowl in his hands, spooning vegetables onto his plate.

"Yay! I love birthdays!" MacKenzie yelled.

"Mac," April said. "Use your inside voice so we don't all lose our hearing in here."

"Don't you even worry about that, Mac," my father said. "I'm half deaf already. Yell all you want. It doesn't bother me one bit."

MacKenzie squealed her approval, and April gave my father a mock look of exasperation. "You're letting her get away with murder, here, Stan."

My dad shrugged. "It's nice to have noise around here," he said. "It's been too quiet in this house for far too long."

"What's this about a birthday?" Crunch asked.

"It's the town birthday," I said. "It's no big deal, and we're not going down there, dad."

"No big deal?" my father asked. "It's only the biggest celebration in West Bend every year."

I laughed. "Yeah, it's the only celebration in West Bend," I said. "But it's just a regular country fair. If you've seen one, you've seen them all."

"But I want to go to the fair!" MacKenzie said.

"Dad..." I warned, tossing him a dirty look. "It's not a great idea."

"Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing," Crunch said. "I mean, we know that no one's looking for us."

"We don't know that for sure," I said. All I could think about was how much I didn't want to see June there. If we could keep our heads down and get out of here, it would be better for everyone.

"I think we can be reasonably sure of it," Crunch said. "I'm still keeping tabs on everything."

"I just don't understand all that technology stuff, you typing away on the computer, how you can track all that," my dad said.

"Well, it's complicated but I can try to -"

I cut him off, before he even got started. "We don't need a lesson in your tech shi - uh, tech stuff, Crunch. Dad, we're not going to the town birthday."

"I'd like to go," Crunch said. I glared at him, my eyes wide.

"What?" he asked. "I would. We've been lying low now, there's no sign of problems with the club. It's not like we're going to roll up there riding the bikes and wearing colors. We'll blend in, lie low."

"It's not a good idea." I cut off a bite of pork chop, popped it into my mouth.

"I think it would be fine," Crunch said. "Besides, I'm sure the whole town will be there. June too."

I took a deep breath. "Then you and dad go."

"Suit yourself," my dad said. "Crunch and I will go down tomorrow night, take the truck. Probably for the best anyway. No sense in you getting all riled up when you see June with someone else."

I sighed. My dad could be a manipulative a.s.shole when he wanted to be. Still, I couldn't help but ask anyway. "With who?"

Dad shrugged, stood up. "I don't know," he said. "June's a smart lady, good catch. But I'm sure she doesn't like the idea of being with the town sheriff anyhow." He stood up, pushed away from the table. "I've got an apple pie in the oven if you want some. Anyone?"

"You know it," Crunch said, patting his belly. He smiled broadly at me, the s.h.i.t.

"I want pie!" MacKenzie screamed. "And I want to go to the fair! Can we go, mommy?"

April nodded. "We definitely can go," she said, squeezing Crunch's arm. "It'll be good, spending time together as a family."

My dad was being completely manipulative, suggesting June would go to the town birthday with someone else, especially when it had been a town tradition for years. Which meant that it had been me and June's tradition too. It was a transparent attempt to make me jealous, incite me to go to the fair.

And it had worked.

The One Hundred and Forty Seventh West Bend Birthday Bash was nearly the same as the way I'd remembered the earlier versions, the main road through the middle of town blocked off to traffic and crowded with people. Lights were strung from one side of the road to the other, crisscrossing and anch.o.r.ed to the historic buildings, lending a romantic vibe to the historic town. Vendors lined the edges of the street, selling handmade crafts and local food. All of that was just like any other country fair. It was the huge white tent in the gra.s.sy lot beside the old Baptist church, housing the band and dance floor, that held the memories for me.

"Are there rides?" MacKenzie jumped up and down, pulling on the sleeve of April's shirt. "Can we do rides? Can we?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" April said, scooping Mac up in her arms. "But let's let Mr. Austin show us around a little bit first, okay? This is really nice, Stan."

"Cade used to love it, growing up," my dad said. "Of course, it didn't used to be crowded like this, either. Now you've got people from the bigger towns coming in, tourists too. Not just locals anymore."

When we were kids, the town celebration was all about the carnival rides. In high school, it was all about coming here to dance under the huge open tent, an excuse to hang out and flirt with girls. For me, though, it was always about being here with June, slow-dancing in the summer evening, her body pressed up against mine.

I had no desire to go inside. It wasn't the same, being here without June. I wanted to go tell her I'd been wrong, that more than anything, I wanted to be with her. But that wasn't good for her.

"No, I don't want to go dance," MacKenzie said, beside me, her nose wrinkled. "Where are the rides?"

"We should go on rides," I agreed. "I think there must be some around here somewhere."

It was a while before we'd exhausted MacKenzie enough on rides for my dad to pull us back toward the tent, where the adults tended to congregate. He craned his neck, trying to see around the crowds. "Cade," he said. "You remember Mr. Hendricks, your old shop teacher? He wants to say hi. I told him I'd bring you by. And a couple guys from down at the VFW want to say h.e.l.lo."

"Dad," I said. "No VFW stuff, no socializing. We're not meeting up with everyone in town. We're trying to stay low." It had been over the top when I'd come back here, after I'd gotten the Silver Star. I didn't need a big production being made again. Especially now, under these circ.u.mstances.

I knew it was a bad idea, coming here.

"It's a couple people. I'll find them, bring them over quietly," dad said. "I'll be back." He ducked inside the tent and disappeared.

"Mommy," MacKenzie whined. "I don't want to go in there. Just one more time in the bounce house?"

"Only if daddy says it's okay," April said.

"Please," Crunch said, turning toward me. "Please, don't make me do the bounce house again. Let me go where there's beer."

I sighed. "Fine. Let's go in."