Scars Like Ours | Red View Romance #2

🐈 Three

McAden Orchard looked the opposite of how Cliff felt. While he was falling apart inside and out, the place he once called home looked like a million bucks. Judging by how many cars were parked outside of the store, it was clearly thriving as a result of all the work his siblings had put into it.

They'd told him about the upgrades, had sent pictures of the wedding barn as well as the store's new roof and tastefully rustic interior, but it all looked better in person. Of course, he already knew that the orchard could never be captured in a photograph. Whether it was the lush, rolling hills that surrounded the land, the endless rows of trees, or the wooden barns and sheds that scattered the landscape, there was a sense of safety and serenity that a picture simply couldn't convey.

He drove past the store, a bright red barn with wide open doors and a full parking lot, and felt unease stir inside him. There was no doubt his cousin Adam was working, but he couldn't stop by and say hello. Not with so many people. Hell, he wasn't sure he would've stopped if there'd been even one car in the lot.

Adam would probably come up to the house when he heard the news, anyway. And Cliff could ask one of his siblings for the grand tour after dinner when the store was closed. He wouldn't get the full effect of the new skylight, but he'd live without it.

He continued up the road to the white, colonial manor that sat further back, shaded by the old weeping willow. The branches swayed in the breeze, yellow leaves brushing against the roof of the wraparound porch and no doubt causing the sunlight to dance in his old room. He'd spent so many afternoons in there as a teenager, the windows wide open, homework out on his desk as Chopin played from his CD player. He always did his homework first thing after school to get it out of the way before racing downstairs to sit at Ethel, the upright piano passed down from his great grandparents. Even as an adult, he spent more time in the den with his fingers on the keys than anywhere else in the house.

Things had been so simple then, so easy. Working around the orchard under his parents' guidance, then his younger brothers'. He should've just stayed, should've been happy with everything he had. He could have studied, gotten a job as a music teacher at the elementary school where Kenzie worked, or just stayed working on the orchard and performing every now and then at the coffee house. Instead he had to dream about orchestras and concert halls, had to find out if he could do it.

And look where it got him: writing jingles for a living, becoming a recluse, and wondering how he managed to screw it all up so badly.

As he parked the car in front of the closed garage next to a Mini Cooper he didn't recognize, the regret began to sink in again. The fact was, he didn't stay, and things were different now. Not just in his life, but in everyone else's, too.

What was he doing there? It'd be better for everyone if he just went back home and let them enjoy their lives. They didn't need his baggage weighing them down.

He glanced over at Fritters, who stared back at him from the passenger's seat. The cat bore scars of his own from fights he had as a stray--the last one in particular, Cliff knew, had caused the loss of his left eye. It was the one that made Cliff vow to domesticate him, whether he liked it or not. As it was, the cat seemed perfectly happy, even after the long drive.

"Wait 'till they get a good look at us, buddy. Try not to take offense, okay?"

The cat only blinked in response, turning to look out the window with little interest. Truthfully, Cliff wasn't all that worried about his family's thoughts on how he looked. With them, it was everything else that would be the problem.

He'd rehearsed how he'd go about telling them the truth about the past four years, but it still wasn't worded well enough to take away the ugliness of the story. He had no doubt they'd be upset. Angry. But what scared him most was the idea that they'd be embarrassed by him.