At this point, he could use all the brainpower he could marshal to get out of the corner he’d backed himself into.

So he told his dad everything, starting with Fred. He didn’t try to whitewash anything he’d done, didn’t manufacture excuses. He simply laid it all out there.

After he finished, only the hoot of an owl and the loud, droning buzz of cicadas drifted through the silence of the deepening twilight.

Tyler kept his head down as he waited for the verdict, heart pounding as hard as it had that night at Mavis Templeton’s as he’d stared death in the face.

“Sit up and look at me, son.” His father’s tone was tough, as it always was when his younger son messed up, but he didn’t sound angry.

Tyler leaned back against the wall and forced himself to face his dad.

The sadness and disappointment in the man’s demeanor shredded his insides.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” The apology scratched past his tight throat. All he’d ever wanted to do his whole life was win his dad’s approval. Now he’d blown that hope forever.

“I thought you’d straightened yourself out. That come spring, you’d be back here, where you belong.”

“That’s what I still want.” His voice rasped. “More than ever.”

“I can’t have lawbreakers in my house.”

He knew that.

But he also knew something else, at the deepest core of his being—and his dad needed to know it too.

Tyler gripped the edge of the bench and wrapped his fingers tight around the edge. “I understand why it’s hard for you to believe me after all the dumb stunts I’ve pulled, but I swear to you, if I can straighten this mess out, I’ll never cause any trouble for anyone again.”

His dad studied him for several seconds. “You realize there will be consequences for what you’ve done.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll pay them. But after that, I want a fresh start. I want to be a son you can be proud of—like Wayne. I’ll do my best from now on to be like him.”

His father’s forehead knotted. “I don’t want you to be like Wayne. I want you to be like you. To be the best you that you can be. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Tyler tried to wrap his mind around that. “But . . . Wayne’s always been . . . he’s the one you favored and wanted me to live up to. To be like. You were always comparing me to him.”

His father gave a slow blink. Massaged the bridge of his nose. Resettled his ball cap as he watched a swallow sail into the barn rafters to roost for the night. “It appears you aren’t the only one in this family who’s made mistakes.” He looked over at him. “You know you were born early, right?”

“Yeah.” His mom had told him the whole story. About the weeks he’d spent in neonatal intensive care, hovering between life and death. About the hours she’d camped out there, holding him, willing him to live.