When the Heart Falls(68)

Please tell Cade and Stevie that I love them very much. My heart breaks when they don't stand up for me in front of Dad. But they're young. It's not their fault. They do their best.

Tell Cade and Stevie about my disease. Or don't. Do what you think is best.

Everyone seems so happy, and I feel so alone. I've thought about doing this before, but I'm afraid.

I hope you forgive me. I hope you think kindly of me.

Goodbye



P.S. Disregard all the mean things I've said. Especially to you, Dad. We've both said mean things to each other that we didn't mean. I know you grew up with a father who hated homosexuals. I know you don't know any better. It's not your fault. Or maybe it is, but I forgive you anyways.



Mom, Cade, Stevie, please forgive Dad. He tried. This isn't his fault. It's not your fault.



Love,



Your son and brother, Peter



Cade… if you find this first, don't go in my bedroom.



Call Mom. She'll handle it.



Cade… don't go in the bedroom.





CADE SAVAGE





CHAPTER 34





THE SUN HAS set and the cold settles into my bones before I move my eyes from Pete’s letter. Hours pass as I let his words sink in. Everyone has left the memorial, and it’s time for me to leave, too.

It doesn’t take me long to pack, since I never really unpacked, but this time I know I’m not coming back, so everything looks different.

When I finish, I go in search of my father who’s sitting in his study staring out the window.

“I’m leaving, Dad.”

"Nonsense. We just buried your brother."

"I did what I came here to do. I've said goodbye."

He turns to face me, his whole body rigid. "You said a lot of things."

"Only the truth.” I’m not even mad anymore, just tired. Tired of the fighting and the hate and the tearing each other apart.

A vein twitches over his right eye. "You insulted me in front of our friends."

I cross my arms and take a deep breath. "Your friends. Not mine."

He points at me, and I know that finger would poke my chest if he was closer. "Your future business partners."

I shake my head. "I won't run the ranch."

He stands up, throwing his arms into the air. "Then who, Cade? Who?"

"Sell the business."

"Sell the business?” His jaw drops. “Sell the business? My father put his entire life into this business. You think he let me leave?"

"You could have.” You should have. Maybe if you’d been stronger, Dad, you could have broken this curse on our family.

He squints his eyes, his fists clenching again. "Don't tell me what I could have done. I kept the business alive. I kept my father's legacy alive. That's what I've done."

"Grandpa's gone, Dad.” I take a step closer to him, dropping my arms to my side. "He's gone."

"You think I don't know that? I walk by him every day. He's got a nice big tombstone like he wanted. He died in front of me, remember? I saw his heart give out. I buried him. I run the business now." Dad’s shaking with anger.

Everything clicks for me in that moment. We, he and I and all of us, are just repeating cycles, like hamsters in a wheel, over and over we just repeat the same cycle because that’s all we know. But someone has to break it. Someone has to be the first to say, ‘No, this isn’t okay. I’m doing things differently.’ My dad couldn’t do it. Pete couldn’t do it. Stevie never had the chance to try. That leaves me. I owe it to my family, the past, present and future, to break this cycle, to pierce the darkness festering in this house with light. With truth. Truth without the sting of anger and hate. "You don't have to be like him. He's gone. He can't hurt you."

"I know."

I take another step toward him, palms up, my heart finally open to him in a way I’ve never been before. "He's gone."

Dad’s fists open, his eyes swell with tears. "I know."

I put a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes, showing him that I understand, that I finally get it.

His tears flow harder, his face crumbling in front of me. "You were right. I killed my son. I killed him."

I hold out the envelope. "I have something for you."

"A letter?"

"From Pete. I'm sorry I kept it from you."

"Don't be. I won't read it." His mask is back on, but now I know what’s underneath. Now I can be the son he needs me to be, not the son he thinks he wants.

"You must."

"No. He hated me."

"He loved you."

I push the letter into his hand, and he opens it, then collapses to his knees. I kneel by his side, hand still on his shoulder so he knows he’s not alone. As he reads it, I remember the words, and we both mourn again for the man we lost that day. When he gets to the last line he looks up at me, eyes weeping. "Why didn't you call your mother? Why'd you go in his room?"

I fight my own tears. "I didn't read the letter when I found it. I was looking for Peter."