Because this wasn’t just between me and my parents.
This was about all of us, the whole family system that had been humming along for decades with me at the bottom.
I called Mom on a Saturday morning.
She picked up on the first ring, which told me she’d been waiting.
“Austin! Oh, honey, I’m so glad you called. Your father and I have been so worried. Are you okay? We miss you so much.”
“I’m fine, Mom. I want to talk. All of us. You, Dad, me, and Chase. At the house.”
There was a pause.
“Chase? Why does Chase need to be there?”
“Because this involves all of us. Can you set it up for next Saturday?”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
I could hear Dad’s voice in the background, muffled, asking who was on the phone.
“I’ll talk to your brother,” she finally said. “Saturday should work. Your father’s surgery isn’t until the following Monday, so he’ll be here.”
“Good. And Mom, I’m not coming to fix anything. I’m coming to talk.”
Silence.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” I said, and hung up.
I spent the next week getting ready.
Not rehearsing some big dramatic speech, just getting clear in my own head about what I needed to say and what I needed to hear.
Grant helped.
Paige helped.
Derek’s legal context sat in the back of my mind like a safety net I hoped I wouldn’t need.
The night before the meeting, Paige and I sat on our back porch.
It was April now, warm enough to be outside, and the sky was doing that thing where it goes from orange to purple in about ten minutes.
She reached over and took my hand.
“Whatever happens tomorrow,” she said, “you’re coming home to me, and that’s enough.”
“I know.”
“Do you, though?”
I squeezed her hand.
“Yeah, I do now.”
Saturday morning, I put on a clean shirt, decent jeans, and my good boots.
Not to impress anyone, just to feel like myself.
Solid. Put together.
Paige held my face in both hands before I left and said, “Don’t you dare apologize for having feelings.”
I got in my truck and drove to my parents’ house.
Chase’s truck was already in the driveway.
I parked behind it, took a deep breath, and walked up to the front door.
I didn’t knock.
I just walked in because I wasn’t a guest.
I was their son.
Whether they treated me like one or not.
They were all in the living room.
Dad in his recliner with his bad knee propped up.
Mom on the couch with her hands folded.
Chase standing by the fireplace with his arms crossed.
Looking like a guy who thought he was about to win an argument.
He didn’t realize he’d already lost.
Nobody said hello.
I sat down in the chair by the window and looked at all three of them.
“Somebody want to start?”
Chase jumped in first.
Of course he did.
“Yeah, I’ll start. You’ve been acting like a child for eight months, Austin. Mom and Dad are dealing with real problems, and you’re pouting because you didn’t like what was in a piece of paper. Grow up.”
I let that sit for a second.
Then I said, “Is that what they told you? That I’m pouting?”
“That’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”
“You’re standing in a house that’s going to be yours,” I said. “Along with $740,000 and a piece of property in Cookville. So maybe where you’re standing isn’t the most objective vantage point.”
Chase’s jaw shifted.
He glanced at Dad.