His Country

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

“Did you know they’re not even doing a cake?” Isaac asked, completely oblivious to Aiden’s disinterest. “So I’m picturing cupcakes, right? Because what else is there if you’re not doing a cake?” he clapped his hands. “Wrong!”

Like music playing over the speakers of a store, Aiden let it buzz in the background as he took his time to groom Eagle. The gelding liked it, ears relaxed and bottom loop drooping as Aiden flicked the brush over his glossy coat. It was already thick for winter and Aiden liked to run his fingers through it, tracing shapes in the dust that stuck to the static.

“Carol says the baker is doing these little mini deserts because I guess Billy doesn’t really like icing.”

“It’s Everett,” Aiden replied without thinking. Everett liked pie while Billy loved anything artificially sweetened.

“Oh, did they tell you that too?”

Aiden nodded gruffly, continuing to brush Eagle’s coat with quick flicks of the soft brush. Isaac didn’t seem to notice his little slip, chattering as he cleaned out the hay room. That was the thing about Isaac, he never seemed to really need an audience.

Aiden had been doing a pretty good job not thinking about Billy and Everett’s wedding. They hadn’t come back since their first visit, using Carol as their intermediary. From what Isaac said, they were going to get married in Summer. The wedding planning had largely been on the periphery—Isaac running around doing…whatever was needed for a celebrity wedding. Aiden had cut wood for an archway. That was the closest he’d gotten to it. Which suited him just fine.

He had enough on his plate thinking about Ethan. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which was worse—the thought of speaking at the town hall meeting or Ethan’s invasive splinter removing techniques. Aiden had told him he wasn’t going to speak, and he meant it, but Ethan didn’t seem to take his ‘fuck you’ at face value. The man ran himself ragged—working long hours at the clinic, running on farm calls, and then showing up at Frank’s so they could strategize for this big land meeting.

The lights in Frank’s office remained on for hours, the glow only competing with the moon against a dark sky.

Aiden could understand Frank’s motivations, but Ethan? Sure, his grandparents had lived around here but a few visits throughout his life didn’t warrant this kind of dedication to a cause that wasn’t his own. As far as Aiden knew, Ethan had no dog in this race. So why did he care so much? Was he just selfless? The kind of man the church ladies would swoon at behind their paper fans and plot to marry to whatever woman in their family who happened to be single and of a similar age.

Normally he found it easy to get distracted by farm chores, letting his mind lull into a sort of hazy bliss as his body did most of the work. But lately he couldn’t stop thinking about noble Ethan and his tongue. His tongue!

It was hardly Aiden’s first kiss. There were a few alcohol soaked kisses, difficult to remember under the glow of a neon bar sign. A few women, back when he was trying to convince himself he was a late bloomer. That he wasn’t truly lost. Those didn’t lead anywhere once the women realized it wasn’t chivalry that had him keeping his hands to himself.

When he’d found his courage at the bottom of a bottle, he tried kissing men. He didn’t remember their faces, but he did remember the scrape of stubble on his chin, the gruff grunts as rough hands dragged down his back, unmanicured nails catching on his shirt. Even though he’d liked it, the night always ended the same way—with Aiden going home alone to curl under a threadbare quilt and pray the alcohol knocked him out before his thoughts did.

The difference was that Aiden had been sober for Ethan’s…tonguing. He knew Ethan’s name, could remember his face. That warm press of his lips was branded into his mind, smoking and hissing long after the interaction. It popped up at the worst times, but especially when he was alone at night. Lying on his small bunk, staring up at the wood paneled ceiling and trying desperately to think of anything but the growing warmth pooling in his belly.

When he inevitably gave into temptation, let his mind wander into a place where his guilt and prejudices couldn’t reach, there would be moments of bliss. Nothing but the rush of his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his pants, the warmth of a familiar palm. The images he conjured would make his conscious mind panic. Guilt and shame would creep up, dig their teeth in and pin him to his bed, covered in his spend like a sticky smoking gun. Evidence of his perversions.

His only saving grace had been that the men he dreamt of were faceless. They were nothing more than their parts—jaws, abs, thighs, hands, cocks. Things that made him pant in the night.

But now, there was a face. There was a pair of lips, ones he had heard speak and laugh. A sum of parts that exceeded everything he had imagined before.

And the guilt that came after was so much worse. It followed him after he’d jumped down from his bed and put his boots on. Lingered when he threw hay or fixed the tractor. Crawled across his skin at inopportune times, reminding him of sins he’d never let into the cold light of day.

Shaking his head, Aiden left Isaac chattering in the background while he finished up with Eagle. Mindlessly, he let him back out into the pasture and whistled for Sugar. The sun was going down, bathing the world in a grey haze that had his eyes playing tricks on him.

Through the gloom he saw Ethan materialize, like a specter called by thought alone. He was stepping out of his truck, still in his work clothes, with an armful of papers. They looked heavy.

Sugar’s ears pricked when she saw him. Ignoring Aiden, she trotted forward. Ethan juggled the papers so he could bend down to pet her.

“Back again?” Aiden asked as he watched his traitorous dog rub up against the vet.

Ethan flashed him a tired smile. “Yeah. We’re meeting with a few of the bigger ranches next week and I’d like to have my ducks in a row.”

Aiden doubted Ethan’s ducks were ever not in a row, but he didn’t say that. He was probably the kind of guy who did his homework in advance and knew all his teachers by name.

“Why are you doing this?”

Ethan looked up from where he was petting Sugar. “Do what?”

“This.” He pointed at the paperwork Ethan had cradled in his arm. “The whole town hall meeting. You look exhausted.”

“You’ve been watching me, huh?” Ethan teased with a grin.

Aiden ignored him. “That isn’t your ranch.”

“But it’s somebody’s,” Ethan said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Maybe it was to someone like Ethan. Aiden didn’t know. He barely knew the man.

“Do you just look for causes to champion or do they fall into your lap?”

That had Ethan falling back against his truck with a huff. He clutched the papers to his chest and sagged a bit.

“Ah, I guess you got me there.” He sounded wistful. “I guess…growing up, I was the youngest of four brothers. Nothing was ever really my own, you know? All my clothes were hand-me-downs, and any sports or hobbies were always my brother’s first. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great childhood, but then the last year of high school I got a job working as a tech for a large animal vet.” He smiled softly. “I always loved animals, but it wasn’t until then that I truly found my calling. Something that was just mine.”

Aiden could hear the fondness in his voice. If he looked closely he could see a little bit of that teenager in his features still.

“We had a call for a foal that wasn’t thriving. His mother was a maiden and she panicked, kicking him. Broke his neck.”

Breeding horses was a heartbreaking business. Maiden mares were first time mothers—sometimes it took them a minute to understand the tiny thing that just appeared in their stalls was their foal.

“Really there was nothing we could do. The foal had no quality of life. Owners couldn’t stick around, said it was too painful. My boss said I didn’t have to stay but I couldn’t stand the thought of that foal dying all alone. Its own mother didn’t even want to give it comfort and I just…” he stared down at his feet, eyes a little glassy. “I held him as the light faded from his eyes and I just thought, ‘how is this fair’? Foal didn’t even have a name yet, didn’t have a chance at life.”

“And my boss said…she said, ‘it was no one’s fault. These thing’s just happen’ like that was supposed to make me feel better. An animal was dead and there was nothing I could do.”

Aiden didn’t know what to make of what Ethan was saying. They all had these stories. Anyone who worked with animals faced that pain. Aiden had heard a variation of the same thing: nothing you could do. It hadn’t made him feel any better than it had Ethan.

“I nearly quit that day.”

Aiden’s voice was hoarse with disuse when he asked, “Why didn’t you?”

“Naivete, I think.” Ethan snorted. “I thought if I studied hard enough, pushed myself enough, that I would never have another call like that.”

Aiden didn’t have to ask if that worked out for him.

Ethan pushed himself off the truck and straightened out his shoulders. His eyes lacked the sparkle of mirth Aiden was so used to.

“This life is full of so much unfairness. I could let it keep me down, or I could get up and fight. If I swing enough times, eventually I’ll land a punch. And if I don’t, well, at least I can sleep at night knowing I was knocked out trying.”

Ethan dropped his free hand onto Aiden’s shoulder. He gave it a little squeeze as he passed by, leaving Aiden standing beside his truck.

I could let it keep me down, or I could get up and fight.

His lips formed the words, but it felt like his fists delivered them. Aiden tried to make sense of them, and why they hit so hard, but all he found was a confusing mix of anger and confusion.

Trying just to fail was an exercise in pointlessness. You can only get up so many times. After all, David only slayed one Goliath. They’d fought for his farm. Did everything they could, and they still failed. Aiden didn’t feel any better for it. He didn’t sleep at night with the ease of a man who could relish in his bruises. He tossed and turned with their pain, trying desperately to find a position he could find some rest in.

He’d fought long after his father had given up. When he’d thrown up the white flag and accepted whatever mercy he could find at the bottom of a bottle, Aiden had fought on. He stayed up late running numbers. Sacrificed his weekends to barter work for a new tractor part. Hell, he even swallowed his pride to beg the bank for another chance.

When he was deep in his drink, he could see that it was never his fight. It was his father’s. One he lost long before Aiden ever realized. And maybe it was his fault or maybe it was the unfairness of it all, but in the end, they still ended up in the same place.

And by the time Everett came around, Aiden was so beat down he didn’t have the will to pick up another fight. He surrendered before the first bugle blew. Gave up the two people he cared about the most because he couldn’t bear to lose again.

So here he was. The loser of two battles—one he fought and one he didn’t. Would he have felt differently if he had fought for Everett? For Billy? Would he be able to look himself in the eye if he tried?

He caught his reflection in Ethan’s rearview mirror. His eyes usually looked vacant, lost. They hurt to look at. Made his heart clench when he couldn’t remember a time they blazed with life. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until he’d seen it in Ethan.

For the first time in a long time, Aiden felt something beyond his self-imposed unhappiness. Like a tired veteran dusting off the weapon he swore he would never again wield, he felt the urge to fight. To get back up, square up, and throw a punch.

Aiden just wished he knew how to do it.

“Your saddle is a piece of shit,” Aiden snapped, eyeing the rotted leather with disdain. It was old as dirt. “Tree is broken. You can’t put this on a horse.” He dropped the saddle at his feet, resisting the urge to kick it across the barn.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess that last drive was rougher than I thought.”

“Or its older than the fucking dinosaurs and you don’t take care of it,” Aiden suggested. “You’ll have to borrow one.”

Isaac groaned. They hated borrowing saddles. They never fit right and after a few hours in the tack it began to hurt. The only saddles they had available were Frank’s—and you only touched his stuff if you were willing to lose a finger. Or three.

Besides, Frank’s was too big for Isaac. The old heavy roping saddle would probably break his thin arms as he tried to heft it. Carol had one from her rodeo days, but the thing had so much silver on it they could see it from space.

A big winter storm was forecasted. Heavy snow and icy wind for days. Trees would definitely come down, and they wanted to check the fence lines before the thing hit. Clearing debris from the fences might save them some effort later. Aiden didn’t technically need a second set of hands; it would just make it faster.

“I can go.”

They turned to see Ethan leaning against the stall, using his fingers to tickle Eagles muzzle. He was chewing on something, foam coating his twitching lips. Ethan had bribed the persnickety gelding.

“Don’t you have work?”

Ethan shrugged. “Just so happens my schedule is clear.”

Aiden knew that was a lie. The great Dr. Landry was pulling in more clients than he could take.

“You got a saddle?”

“Yep.”

“You got a horse?”

“Sure do.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow. “Know how to fix a fence?”

He shrugged. “I’m a quick study.”

Isaac smiled, eyebrows lifting. He wanted to stay with the damned goats anyway. Apparently one of his favorites was battling a pretty severe case of mastitis and he had his knickers in a twist over it.

That’s how he ended up riding into the hills with Ethan. Family friend privileges apparently extended to horses because Ethan was astride Franks pretty grey mare. A heavyset girl, she dwarfed Eagle as they rode side by side up into the hills.

Sugar darted between their feet, skittering away from stomping hooves and swishing tails. Occasionally she’d streak off into the brush, hunting for something to play with. She got just as cooped up on the farm as Aiden did. Dead leaves crunched under her feet. Branches cracked and snapped as she pushed her way through, ears twitching at every sound.

Dew dripped off the branches. Under the canopy they were shielded from the sun, and it was cooler in the shade. Speckles of sunlight flickered through gaps in the tree cover. Shafts of light illuminating the forest floor. Little spots of warmth and light. Moss was already beginning to brown, dying out as the incoming snows and frost of winter curled its icy fingers over the land.

Ethan was a good rider. Loose hipped and relaxed, his long legs bumping up against the sides of his mare. Hands resting over the swell of the saddle, split reins loosely grasped between his fingers. Back straight, heels down, he looked like he was born for the saddle. His hair was slicked back from his face from the wind. Occasionally laughing when he caught sight of Sugar’s antics.

Aiden watched him ride. Hips undulating with the mare’s movements, fingers occasionally sliding under her mane to scratch at the crest of her neck. Rarely did he give her direction, choosing to let the big girl pick her own way over brambles and loose stone. She snorted under his scratches, ears flopping as she shook her head contentedly.

He wasn’t really dressed for camping out. His denim jacket was worn in places, wiry threads twisted out of the thick material where buttons should be. Aiden wondered where they’d fallen off. The boots he wore were just his work boots, waterproof but hardly insulated. Clearly, he hadn’t been planning on going up into the hills. Aiden couldn’t help but wonder why he was here at all.

Eagle spent the first twenty minutes pinning his ears at Frank’s mare. Making surly little faces in an attempt to distance himself. The mare was unimpressed and her disinterest irritated Eagle. He started drifting closer, ears still pinned even as he bumped Aiden’s leg up against Ethan’s.

“What a lousy flirt,” Ethan laughed.

Aiden stroked the little gelding’s neck. “He’s doing his best.”

Apparently, Ethan found Aiden’s defense of his gelding to be the funniest thing he’d ever seen, his laugh echoing around the hills. The sound was infectious, and Aiden found himself joining. Not the little huff of air, a snort to indicate something was slightly less than completely unbearable, no, a real laugh. The kind that bubbles up from your belly and rumbles through your chest. Like an earthquake rattling his core, he doubled over and felt his cheeks ache with disuse. The cobwebs in his empty chest shook loose and he felt something growing. He wasn’t sure what it was, but even when the laughter stopped, he felt the ache in his cheeks continue.

It wasn’t until he finally caught his breath that he noticed Ethan wasn’t laughing with him. He was watching him, his lips floating in this strange little half smile. Like his face was caught between emotions.

Aiden lifted his hands to his face, the light feeling from moments ago replaced with the weight of self-consciousness.

“No, don’t.” Ethan reached between them, snagging Aiden’s wrist to pull it from his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare it’s just…I didn’t know your face could do that.”

Aiden’s eyebrows drew together. “Do what?”

“Anything besides scowl.” Ethan’s eyes crinkled with renewed laughter, dodging Aiden’s smack. He softened the reins and kicked the mare into a canter, running from Aiden’s cursing.

Eagle took the challenge to heart, picking up speed to catch up. Ethan took one look over his shoulder before leaning forward, urging his horse faster up the little trail they’d been following. Aiden knew it well, and he let Eagle have his head.

Eagle might have been shorter, but he was quicker. It didn’t take them long to pass Ethan, flipping him the bird as they galloped past.

They chased each other until they got to the first fence line. By then the horses were out of breath, warm breath pluming in front of their heaving nostrils. Wordlessly, they began walking the fence line, giving the horses a chance to catch their breath. Aiden scanned the fence as they walked, checking to wire for sagging. Occasionally he dismounted to move some large limb or hammer in a nail on the wooden posts.

At some point, Ethan began talking. Like an unspoken agreement that they were tired of their own thoughts, he began sharing his. Anything that came to mind slipped past his lips. He told Aiden that anytime he heard a Bald Eagle screech in a movie, it was actually the call of a Red-Tailed Hawk. Then about the time he broke his thumb playing with a cat toy.

“And my mom didn’t believe me that it was messed up and she bitched the entire time we sat in the ER. When the doctor came in to confirm it was broken, I got to rub it in her face so bad.” Ethan cackled. Aiden could only imagine the poor mother of four rambunctious boys.

Surprisingly, Aiden enjoyed the chatter. Rather than tune Ethan out, like he did Isaac, he listened. Even occasionally asked questions. It was nice to hear Ethan talk about himself. It took the pressure off Aiden—he didn’t have to have his guard up, worried he might do or say something that would give him away. He could just exist in the bubble of Ethan’s chatter.

Until he couldn’t.

“Town Hall Meeting is in two months.”

He didn’t say anything else, but that short sentence was enough to pop the bubble Aiden had been so happy to luxuriate in.

Aiden had been happy to ignore all the things Ethan brought with him in favor of just spending time with the man. Between nearly—he decided that he hadn’t actually died in an official capacity—dying, Billy and Everett’s wedding, and the losing battle to save the Mulligan’s ranch, Ethan seemed determined to shake up the fragile equilibrium Aiden had found.

Begrudgingly, Aiden could admit that Ethan didn’t shake it up so much as point out just how flimsy it was. The worst part was that he was right. And all the cold light he was shedding on Aiden had him thinking things he didn’t think he ever could.

First and foremost—who the hell was Ethan Landry and why was he freezing his ass off with him? What did he want? Was he trying to rub it in? Punish Aiden for hurting Billy and Everett like he did? Was this all some sort of elaborate revenge scheme?

He doubted it. As much as he didn’t understand him, he knew Ethan wasn’t malicious like that. He wasn’t underhanded. If he had an issue with Aiden, he’d say so. Or he’d have let him die in the barn that night. Hell, he didn’t even have to let him. All he had to do was stay home. Not come back to check on him like he did.

And maybe that night was the crux of it all. Aiden couldn’t trust Ethan because he didn’t understand him or his motivations. Which wasn’t exactly unusual for Aiden. He wasn’t in the habit of letting anyone in, and most people got the hint. But Ethan was proving to be the exception to every rule. He didn’t just knock on Aiden’s walls; he broke in and barricaded himself inside. Poked at all the raw nerves like a kid right after he was told something was fragile, leaving his sticky fingerprints all over.

Which left him with two choices—he could either run, put Montana and Ethan in the rearview mirror and set up a new life, or he could accept his presence. Let him in enough to see just the edges of his tattered heart, the frayed discolored edges that occasionally caught glimpses of the light outside the lonely black hole he’d locked it away in.

And if Ethan ran when he finally understood just what lurked inside Aiden, well then, he could always run.

Besides chattering, Ethan was helpful, and they got the immediate fence lines ridden by the end of the first day. Aiden had to tighten one strand and Ethan watched as he pulled his gloves off with his teeth, using pliers to tighten the rusted wire strand. He tutted when Aiden returned with a bloody palm, stroking the small cut with his thumb.

“How’d you manage this?”

Aiden shrugged.

“That’s what gloves are for.”

Wiggling his fingers, he showed Ethan how they could move better without the thick gloves. “Hands are so cold I didn’t even feel it.”

He refused to let Ethan baby him and they made camp. As they puttered around, Ethan shivered, his lips turning a little blue. He was dressed poorly and hadn’t been moving as much as Aiden. And he wasn’t used to being in such thin air. Aiden shrugged off his thick Carhartt and tossed it to him.

“Put it on.” He walked away before Ethan could complain, going to make sure the horses were properly hobbled. Even without looking, he could feel Ethan’s eyes on his back.

They ate dinner in companionable silence. Sometimes he’d break the silence, share what he was thinking, or small stories about work. But those didn’t feel like pointless words. They had punch, weight behind them he didn’t understand but wanted to know more of.

Their knees brushed as they sat on the rolled up sleeping bags and let the fire warm their face. Sugar was pressed to their backs, soaking up their warmth and kicking them as she ran in her sleep. Ethan was zipped up in Aiden’s khaki colored coat. The shoulders were big on him, but the arms too short. His pale wrists flashed in the evening, firelight dancing across the blue veins thrumming just under the thin skin.

Under all their layers it was hard to feel the warmth coming off each other, but Aiden thought it was enough.

Ethan hadn’t brought up that night. Even though he said he thought Aiden should talk about it. He didn’t ask any questions. While he didn’t shy away from mentioning Everett or his upcoming wedding, he didn’t go out of his way to talk about him.

At first Aiden was grateful, but then he found his thoughts wandering back to where they always did when Ethan was involved. Did Ethan suddenly stop caring? Why? Did he see Aiden at his absolute worse and decide he wasn’t worth the effort? A broken peanut shell forgotten on the sticky floor of a bar, just waiting to be crushed by the heel of a boot.

He didn’t like the thought of Ethan not caring. Not when Aiden had finally decided he might be open to letting him in. Any kind of relationship went two ways, so he steeled himself, stared down at his clasped hands and tried to quell the urge to flee.

Swallowing back words that tasted an awful lot like bile, he finally broke the silence. “Why haven’t you asked?”

Ethan could have played dumb. He could have made Aiden squirm, but he was truly the patron saint of assholes, and he was merciful.

“You think it was easy for me to see you like that?” he looked away from the fire, giving Aiden the back of his head. Creating space. “You were just propped up against the stall. I thought you were ignoring me at first, but then you didn’t move. You had these…tears on your face but you weren’t breathing. God.” He rubbed his face.

Ethan finally turned to look back at Aiden, like he needed to see a living, breathing man rather than the one he was picturing. His face was cast in shadow from the fire, half visible and the rest shifting under shadows.

“I felt like I killed you.”

Aiden refused to acknowledge what those words did to him. They rattled around his empty shell like uncooked popcorn on a hot skillet.

His voice cracked. “Why did you push?”

Ethan looked resigned. “Because Everett and Billy are my friends and you hurt them.” He held Aiden’s eyes. He didn’t look apologetic, standing behind his motivations even after knowing their consequences. “You hurt them. Unintentionally, I know that now. I get it. Self-preservation can be a bitch.”

If Ethan refused to look away, then so did Aiden. Stubborn ran in his blood, and even though the heat from the fire was burning his eyes and his heart jack rabbited against his chest, he held on. Forced himself to look into his eyes.

“How should I have done it, then?”

Ethan sucked his teeth. “I’m not your therapist, Aiden. I can’t tell you how you should have done things. That kind of talk will drive you crazy.” His eyes were soft, understanding simmering in his irises. “I know you didn’t do it to be cruel. I think sometimes that’s the best you can ask for.”

More certain than the sun setting in the west, Aiden knew he’d never tried to hurt them. Of all the things that could be said about him, he didn’t want to cause them pain. He was happy for them then, and he still was now. Leaving had been a desperate act of self-preservation. A way to minimize casualties.

Ethan watched the thoughts flicker across his face, emotions chasing the shadows cast from the snapping flames. He reached out and dragged a thumb across his cheek, rough and cold. A barely there touch that was more about getting his attention than touch.

“You’re enough, Aiden. Everett might not have seen you the way you wanted, but he still cared about you. Billy, too. They loved you because you’re worthy of being loved.”

Without meaning to, Aiden leaned into the touch. He wanted to feel that kind touch, one he hadn’t felt in so long it felt like a ghost. He wanted the warmth that bloomed in his shell to have a tangible source, a thing he could touch to feel it again. That soft flickering heat, a reprieve from the nothing. A sun to provide growth for the barren wasteland of his heart.

“At some point you’re going to have to figure out there’s so much more than being fine, and you can want that.”

They stayed like that for a long time—Aiden’s lips parted, unable to think or speak, and Ethan’s knuckles just barely skating across the stubble on his cheeks.

And between Sugar’s snores, the horses grazing nearby, and the rustling of wind in the dead trees, something flickered in Aiden’s shell. A tentative leaf reaching for the sun, too stubborn to stay dead.