His Country

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

As winter closed in, the wedding preparations began to ramp up. The wedding planner was a mousy woman who wore white kitten heels that reminded Aiden of his mother’s Sunday best. She always had some kind of fabric spilling from her pockets and had a habit of writing notes down on her forearms with a marker stuck behind her ear. Isaac followed her around like a puppy, dropping everything the moment her white shoe hit the driveway.

Like he promised, Aiden stayed out of the way. It was easy to ignore the whole event when it was just a harried woman with pen marks on her arms. He heard from Isaac that they were trying to keep the wedding low key—part of the reason they chose a private farm to hold the ceremony and reception—but gossip magazines were going crazy for any scant detail they could beg, steal, or borrow.

Everett and Billy would come by sometimes. Isaac wondered if they flew in on a private plane. Aiden’s immediate reaction was no, they weren’t like that. But he didn’t actually know, did he? Not anymore.

He’d watch them from the shadows of the barn, or behind the tractor as they followed their wedding planner. Discussing flower arrangements and music, they would sometimes look at each other over the woman’s head and share this look. Like they knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Once, Billy caught sight of him. He took a step toward Aiden, but Everett grabbed his shoulder, pulled him away with a shake of his head. Those blue eyes met his over his fiancé and there was something in them. An emotion Aiden probably could have understood a few years ago—back when Everett was the kind of man who wouldn’t fly in a private jet—but time had muddied those waters.

They had changed. Grown into trees too tall to see the roots they’d grown together. That hurt in a way he deserved, but in a different way than it used to. It didn’t echo from his past, like how it hurt in high school. From when he longed to have those eyes on him, soft and syrupy. No, it was like from the early days. Before Aiden admitted to himself that what he wanted was more than just friendship. It was back when they threw sweaty towels at each other in the locker room or ate greasy burger out of paper sacks as the radio warbled over the pounding of open truck windows. Back when the farm was still teetering with a chance to save it.

Back when they were friends.

He found himself by the little colt, hands rubbing over familiar wiry hair. The colt snuffed around the dirt for the grass that hadn’t yet died. Aiden stared down at the remaining green poking from the dirt.

One of the yearlings in the big field whinnied and the colt called back, ears forward as he searched for his friends.

Aiden thought he was like this colt, injured and safer when left alone. Thought he’d put up fences he would never want to take down. But the fences grew bigger every day, trapping him with nothing but his own guilt to keep him company. And no matter how much pain he was in, the colt constantly paced the fence. Desperate for a way out, a glimmer of freedom.

And like this colt, there was someone calling him from the other side. Someone who wasn’t afraid of a little hard work. Someone who wasn’t afraid to fight.

Ethan came around a lot more than he needed to. Sometimes, Frank wasn’t even home. He’d rock up in his truck, name stenciled on the side, and hang out with whoever was around. Sometimes Isaac or Carol, but more often than not it was Aiden.

He followed him around, asking questions and trying to help. Aiden would shove him out of the way but with a lot less malice than he usually did. Tell him to save his hands, and would do it for him. But he didn’t tell him to leave. Those times Ethan would grin at him with the biggest smile. Like Aiden had just given him some kind of gift.

It wasn’t that Ethan wasn’t busy, the man still ran himself ragged with all his patients and then his extra curriculars. Days would sometimes go by without a trace of the willowy vet. But then he’d show up again, smile in in place and the faint smell of cigarettes clinging to his clothes.

Winter was coming quick, and the days shortened. The daily chores changed, small things they didn’t have time to get to in the summer were moving to the top of the list. Aiden steadfastly refused to help Isaac fix the goat pens, making them bigger to prepare for a larger herd next year. He flipped the young man off when he asked. Ethan had laughed, offering himself up in Aiden’s stead.

Things like fixing the barn roof, checking fields, and fencing, reinforcing storage silos, and making repairs took precedence. Aiden’s hands ached from the force of a hammer vibrating up his palms, and he missed his long days out in the back country. The quiet lowing of cows, bugs buzzing around their legs as they stomped in the long grass. Even the snakes and spiders skittering out of his way into the brush. Winter was beautiful, but it couldn’t compare to the freedom of the gentler months.

Aiden was in the chicken coop, swearing up a storm. The rats had managed to chew through the wire, again, and they were losing chicks and feed to the skittery assholes.

“And where were you?” he asked Sugar accusingly.

She stared back at him balefully. Rats are the barn cat’s department.

“Always with the excuses,” he mumbled, wondering just where in the hell the barn cats were anyway. The fluffy things always managed to be underfoot when he was trying to get things done.

“One job. They have one job.” He pulled some wire over the opening and debated on shoving the cats into one of the rat’s little hidey holes.

Isaac came by with a tool belt low on his hips. He was covered in grease. Allegedly, the PTO on the tractor popped a belt but Aiden suspected the man was napping under the mower. Again.

“This is because you feed those fuckers!” he yelled.

“Aw c’mon,” Isaac sung out, arms crossing over his chest. “Can you say no to their little mews?”

“Yes!”

“Dog person.” He threw it like an insult, laughing at Aiden spluttering behind him as he walked away.

“I like cats that do their job,” he seethed.

Once he got the chicken coop up to snuff, he ducked out from under the low structure ignoring the flapping of wings. The old rooster watched him, his waddle wobbling under his chin. Beady little eyes took Aiden in, ready to step in and defend his harem from a fully grown man but unable to fight off some rodents.

“Just watch it old man,” he warned. “Come at me and I’ll turn you into nuggets.”

“You won’t,” Ethan challenged him as he walked up, hands full of a travel thermos of coffee. Aiden reached for it gratefully, popping the lid and sipping the bitter drink. It was garbage. Carol made some good food, and better hooch, but she couldn’t brew coffee to save her life. Still, it was hot and caffeinated.

“He’s just lucky the Patron Saint of Assholes came by.”

Ethan raised a brow, laughing into his coffee. “Is that what I am?”

“Apparently.”

They sipped their coffee as Aiden went over the rest of his to do list for the day. Sugar trotted up, nudging her head against Ethan until he caved to her begging and scratched her ears. She had taken to the vet, excitedly jumping up when she heard his truck rumbling up the drive. Sugar, and by extension Aiden, knew he was coming before anyone else.

“How was that mare?”

Ethan had been out all night with a bad birth. He’d returned hollow eyed and chewing his lip like he wanted to smoke.

Ethan grimaced. “Breach. Ripped her up.”

“Foal?”

“Big as a tank.” Ethan shook his head. “Mare might be ok. She’s a fighter.”

Aiden liked breeding horses, but he hated the birth. Maybe it was a lousy male trait, but it scared the hell out of him. He had almost lost his dinner when Eagle was born, and he slipped out of his dam as easy as hot butter.

Ethan was a good vet. When you worked as a ranch vet you didn’t get a lot of the fancy equipment the bigger vets did in the city. There was a lot of guess work, a lot of holding things together with ductape and prayers. Ethan was young, but his reputation was only growing. It was a dirty job with shit pay and worse hours, but Ethan seemed to like it. And he was obviously good at it.

“The owner’s kid had a tortoise,” Ethan said out of nowhere, nails tapping on his mug. “It was sick. I haven’t touched a reptile since school, but I told him I’d try. Saved his life.” His big brown eyes were sparkling. Ethan had gone from being elbow deep in a ripped open, hemorrhaging horse to delicately treating a kid’s pet tortoise in the span of thirty minutes.

“Well shit,” Aiden drawled out the ‘i’ smiling into the heat coming off his coffee. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of a bonafide hero.”

Heat colored Ethan’s cheeks and Aiden suspected it had nothing to do with the coffee in his hands. His own cheeks pinked up, too.

Frank caught Aiden’s attention just as he was getting into the truck.

“Don’t forget to get the good screws. None of those pansy ass Phillips head.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at Isaac, who was slinking back around the barn with a guilty look on his face. “And none of that aluminum shit!”

Isaac winced. “That was one time!”

Aiden chuckled as he lifted a hand in acknowledgment, slamming the door. The truck rumbled to a start, and he cast one more look backwards at the bunkhouse. He’d left Sugar sleeping on his bunk. Even though it was considerably warmer, and more comfortable, she was always grumpy when he went into town without her. She loved riding in the truck, and he hated denying her the opportunity, but he also had to make a trip to the grocery store. While the hardware store didn’t mind if she came in, the grocery certainly did.

He generally wasn’t one to volunteer for a run to town, but he needed some stuff at the store. That and Isaac had been banned for the foreseeable future for having the audacity to buy subpar screws.

As Aiden backed out of the spot, Ethan’s truck pealed in beside him. The engine hadn’t even turned off before he was falling out of the cab, banging on Aiden’s window. He reached for the window handle, beginning to roll it down without even considering driving off first.

He didn’t let himself dwell on that.

Ethan leaned into the truck; arms folded like some kind of Lot Lizard trying to earn dinner. “Where are you going?”

“The fucking zoo. Where do you think?”

“Can I come with?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just jogged around the truck.

“You just came from town!” Aiden yelled, watching as his long legs carried him to the other side quickly. He didn’t wait for Aiden’s permission, just hopped into the truck and buckled his seatbelt.

Aiden didn’t know what to do with that. He had grown used to Ethan at the farm, their easy companionship had been unexpected. Not necessarily easy, there were definite times that Aiden shied away from Ethan’s overt nature and assured confidence, but Ethan was getting good at recognizing that. He just seemed to know when he needed to back off, lapsing into a comfortable silence that brought Aiden some much needed reprieve.

But Ethan in the truck, Ethan in town…that was something new. Uncharted waters that Aiden hadn’t yet found a map for. He found being in town difficult enough as it was. Aiden was never the friendliest person, but after leaving Texas, his self-imposed isolation hadn’t helped any.

It wasn’t like Aiden didn’t want to be friendly. He didn’t dislike other people, he disliked himself. He didn’t know how to interact with them without letting all the things he tried to keep locked away spill out. It felt a lot like trying to make one trip with groceries, hands full of bags, while trying to open the door. Something was going to end up spilling all over the front porch.

Except instead of milk or a jar of salsa, it was the giant, festering wound where his heart should be. One wrong move and it would rip open, shame and guilt spilling out over his boots.

Ethan had poked at it, and begrudgingly, Aiden had been trying to relax around him. Maybe even consider him a friend, if Aiden could ever say that word without all the implication that clung to every syllable.

But now Ethan was trying to change the parameters of their relationship. Move it into a space Aiden wasn’t sure he knew how to navigate. He took a deep breath and squeezed the steering wheel. It had been worn smooth from years of use, and he found his fingers sliding into the grooves with the ease of muscle memory. It was grounding.

The truth was that beneath all of Aiden’s uncertainty, he was enjoying Ethan’s company. Hell, even Frank asked if he was ok when he caught his face screwed up in a not-quite smile but not a scowl either.

So Aiden eased his foot off the brake and let the truck begin rolling down the driveway. The tires rolled over gravel, and he forced himself to lean back into the worn seat. Ethan rested on an elbow, looking out the window as the trees thickened on either side of the narrow drive. When Aiden had first pulled up to the Rolling J, he had been impressed. The narrow driveway had no markings, just a sharp right turn off a narrow two lane road. No signage, just a rusted mailbox tucked into overgrown shrubbery. Once you were passed the mailbox the trees closed in. It was almost like the road was cut into a sentient forest where even after all this time, the denizens still wanted to reclaim what was lost. It grew so shaded that it was like driving into a tunnel with no foreseeable exit.

Ethan wasn’t chatting, and Aiden focused on driving. Before, he had been leery of Ethan because he knew so much. But now he wondered if that wasn’t a good thing. Ethan knew. All those things he was afraid would spill out; Ethan had already discovered. He knew about his past, knew what he was running from, and most importantly, he knew the desires that lurked in Aiden’s mind.

Aiden didn’t know if Ethan was gay, or straight, or what. He’d never asked. Maybe he should have, but he was afraid of the answer. Clearly, he had no issue with it. And that should be the end of it—but Aiden wondered if maybe Ethan was trying so hard because he knew Aiden was gay and he needed some kind of project. Or he felt sorry for him.

He didn’t want to care, he never had before. But he did. Aiden cared and that was scarier than everything else combined.

As if sensing Aiden’s discomfort, Ethan turned to him. “What do you need at the hardware store?”

For the remainder of the drive Aiden explained what they needed—how Isaac was trying to expand the goat pen, and Aiden wanted to fix some rotting boards in the hay loft. He even told him about when Isaac came home with the wrong screws and Frank had complained about it for weeks. Still did, really.

That led to Ethan trying to change Aiden’s mind about goats. Aiden was unmoved.

“The only thing I need to know about goats is what they look like when they’re chasing you up a round bale,” He groused as they pulled into the lot of the hardware store.

Ethan laughed. “Were you chased by a goat?”

“My mom had this real anxious mare. She had to have a goat for company. Thing was evil. Chased me everywhere. Used to hook its horns around my leg and yank me off my feet.”

“That sounds pretty traumatizing for a kid.”

Aiden did not tell him he was nearly 10 and twice the goat’s weight when they owned it.

Even though Ethan didn’t need anything at the hardware store, he surprised Aiden by getting out with him.

The familiar brass bell jingled as they pushed through the cloudy glass doors. Probably one of the oldest buildings in town, it smelled like a confusing mixture of lumber, turpentine, and metal shavings. Aiden found the smell comforting. It reminded him of every other independently owned hardware store he’d walked into.

He didn’t bother looking at the signs hanging above the aisles—they weren’t right anyway. He knew where everything was, and it didn’t take him long to collect everything he needed. Wordlessly, Ethan took some of boxes of screws out of his hands to hold for him. He even stopped to comment on the price increase of double ended snaps.

They checked out on Frank’s tab. The clerk glanced at Aiden with a small nod, not bothering with small talk and ignoring the bits of hay and shavings clinging to his jacket. They weren’t unusual accessories this close to so many ranches.

The Rolling J was located in the Powder River area, a couple hours Southeast of Billings. It wasn’t as rural as some of the other ranches Aiden worked, but it was close. They didn’t have much in the way of shopping, but they had all the necessities. Couple of good restaurants, a bowling alley. They even had a movie theater. It had been years since Aiden had been to a theater.

Everything was located off a main road that ran through town—he could never remember what it was called—so it wasn’t difficult to get to the grocery. They parked just as dusk was falling. He wasn’t sure if Ethan was going to follow him in until he slipped out of the truck just behind him.

He almost asked why he was coming in. Almost snapped that he didn’t need him, but he held back. Ethan wasn’t stupid—he could stay in the truck. There were no laws about leaving your veterinarian in the car. Ethan was coming in because he wanted to, and that was enough for Aiden.

They didn’t have any poignant conversation while Aiden shopped. Ethan would point out brands or ask if Aiden had tried a certain flavor. Ethan was a bit of a caffeine expert, and a definite coffee snob. Aiden mocked him for having some fancy brand of coffee shipped to him. They argued over cereal but agreed that green grapes were better than purple.

Aiden had never considered grocery shopping to be anything other than a chore. He didn’t think it could be qualified as something fun or not. It was just something you had to do. But with Ethan, he found himself smiling. He even discovered he had some pretty strong opinions on which box of mac n cheese was worth buying and that generic cola tasted the same as name brand.

They were loading up the groceries when Ethan leaned against the truck and jerked his head toward the road. “Want to get a drink?”

Aiden dropped the last bag and followed his line of sight. Mike’s Bar was a squat red brick building tucked off an ill-used access road. The small lot was usually claustrophobic with big trucks, barely enough room between them to get to the battered metal door under a single light.

It was a fine establishment for what it was. Aiden had been in a couple times. Serving the standard fare, it catered to clientele who preferred quantity over quality. Passable beer served with freezer burn that masqueraded as food, the patrons of Mike’s knew exactly what they were getting when they stepped through the door and there were rarely any complaints.

“Why?” Aiden asked, trying not to read too much into the suggestion.

“Because it’s fun. You do know what fun is, right?”

“Bite me.”

“Buy me a drink first, farm boy,” he teased with a wink. “C’mon. It’s cold enough the groceries won’t spoil, and Frank is already half a cup into his Sleepy Time Tea.”

Aiden glanced over at the bar. What would he do if he went home? Take Sugar out and go to bed? Listen to Isaac as he complained at the TV?

Or he could have a drink with Ethan, the guy he’d been having a decent time with. And it wasn’t as if getting a drink with a friend was weird or suspicious. No one would think twice if they saw two guys enjoying a brewksi after a hard day at work. More than that, Ethan had invited him. Even knowing what he did, he still wanted to spend time with him.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he hip checked the truck door closed. “All right. One drink.”

Ethan grinned as he slung an arm around Aiden’s neck, dragging him close so they could amble across the street. Aiden flushed, ducking his head into his jacket to hide his face. Ethan felt warm pressed up against him like that. It wasn’t exactly news that he was taller than Aiden but next to him like this, it was obvious. He felt small, and not in the way he was used to. Small like he was curled up in a big bed, with heavy blankets draped over him. Safe. Secure.

Even though it was awkward, Ethan made no move to move away from Aiden. He kept a hold of him as they walked toward the bar. His body heat diffused through their clothes, to Aiden it felt scalding. When was the last time he was this close to somebody? He couldn’t remember, but to be fair, it wasn’t his brain that was directing most of his attention. Ethan’s body was distracting—the shift of his hips as he walked in step with him, the curl of his arm as it draped over his shoulders as easily as a lazy cat on a window. He could even smell him. Not the sharp bite of disinfectant, or the overpowering scent of cigarettes, no this was something far more subtle. It was Ethan. Indefinable, but definite. It registered in the primal part of his brain, screaming of an intimacy that sent shivers down his spine.

Heart thudding in his chest, approached the bar. Ethan finally released Aiden to open the door. The moment they stepped inside the bar they were slammed with an oppressive cloud of nicotine and alcohol. A haze of smoke lingered just below the ceiling; obscuring walls yellowed with time. Muted country music thrummed through speakers, low enough to just barely be heard over the clink of pool balls and the thump of a glass hitting a table with a little too much passion.

Mikes was predominantly lit by neon beer signs. It took Aiden’s eyes a moment to adjust as he took in the bar. To the right was the large glossy bar, complete with a cracked mirror on the wall across from it. In the back two pool tables and a couple of beeping arcade games were snugged up against a jukebox that looked like it had been cobbled together with tape.

“Grab a table,” Ethan said as he stepped around Aiden, making his way to the bar.

A few of the tables were occupied but Aiden found a small one by the wall. Shrugging off his jacket, he dropped into the seat and forced himself to try and relax. This is what he wanted. Sort of. He hadn’t quite defined it but surely hanging out with Ethan was a good step toward being able to look himself in the mirror.

He was scraping at a bit of gunk stuck to the top of the circular table when Ethan returned with two beers and a basket of onion rings. They smelled pretty good.

Taking a sip from his beer, he licked the foam from his top lip as he examined the red plastic basket. “What? No ranch?”

Ethan was mid-sip. “I brought ketchup. Who puts ranch on onion rings?”

That had Aiden scowling. “Ranch is good on everything.”

“Not everything,” Ethan scoffed until he saw the serious look on Aiden’s face. “Tell me you don’t put ranch on everything.”

Aiden settled his elbows on the table, his gaze even and challenging. “Everything,”

“All right, I’ll bite. What’s the weirdest thing you put ranch on?”

Kissing his teeth, Aiden let Ethan dangle for several long moments. “Salmon.”

Making an exaggerated gagging noise, Ethan set his beer down. “No, you know what, forget this. We don’t need a drink; we need to take you to a doctor. Jesus.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

“That right?” Ethan asked as he brought his beer back to his lips, taking a long swig without looking away from Aiden. “You going to cook me some salmon? Prove me wrong?”

There was promise brewing in Ethan’s steady gaze. For what, Aiden wasn’t sure, but he nearly lost himself looking for it. Looking away, he shrugged. “Sure. No promises on the salmon though, I’m a lousy cook.”

“I’d risk it.”

Aiden mumbled stupid into his drink as the song changed. Something livelier crooned and a few people got up to dance between the tables. He found his gaze drifting towards them. A tipsy couple were laughing more than dancing, hands clenched tightly in a two step that looked more like a two and a half step. The man whispered something in the woman’s ear just before he spun her. She giggled, even when she clipped a table and spilled someone’s drink.

They made it look so easy. Not the dancing, that was terrible, but the ease in which they enjoyed each other’s company. They didn’t second guess themselves, or worry what people said, or if what they were doing was wrong. Just living in the moment, nothing but the space between them.

Emotion stuck in his throat, and he tried to dislodge it with cheap beer. It wasn’t quite jealousy, but it was something close. Aiden tried for so long to be empty. Not to feel anything. But no matter how far he ran, the loneliness was always one step ahead. It never took him, that would be putting him out of his misery. It just lingered on the edges, reminding him of what he couldn’t have.

“You want to dance?” Ethan asked, his head cocked.

Had he been watching Aiden? Sitting back, he rearranged his face into a scowl. “Not even if you paid me.”

Ethan’s lips curled mischievously. “What if I begged you?” his voice dropped an octave, low and smooth, but Aiden heard every word like he’d put his lips against the shell of his ear.

“Don’t be silly,” he scoffed, back ramrod straight as he picked up an onion ring, biting into it without tasting it. “You would look ridiculous on your knees.”

Ethan leaned in, elbows on the table. There was something predatory in the way his eyes flicked up and down Aiden.

“You think about me on my knees a lot?”

Aiden choked on his tasteless onion ring. “N-no.”

“Shame,” Ethan practically purred as he sat back, giving Aiden some breathing room. “It’s an impressive sight.”

Aiden’s glass nearly slipped from his fingers, so caught in the beam of Ethan’s eyes that he didn’t notice his fingers slipping on the condensation. Righting his glass, he tried to gain control of himself. Even after forcing his eyes away, he could still feel the sting of his intensity.

Like he hadn’t nearly caused an incident, Ethan switched topics. As he breezily sipped his beer, he kept things light.

“One year, my mom got the bright idea that we would drive from Montana to Florida. Spent a whole summer driving across country with the six of us in my uncles old Air Stream.” Ethan said, the alcohol making his cheeks ruddy. “We ended up on this gorgeous beach in Destin. I mean, the kind of beach you see in pictures. Well, one night, my parents decide they want a date night. They left my brothers in charge and they decided that being at the beach was the perfect time to show me Jaws for the first time.”

Aiden found himself leaning in to hear his story, fingers loosely clasped around his drink.

“Well, naturally, I had nightmares about a shark leaping out of the ocean and eating us all in the camper. My parents came home to me trying to stuff a frying pan under my pillow.”

Snickering, Aiden shook his head. “Your brothers didn’t get in trouble?”

“No. They managed to weasel out of it by saying they’d take me to the arcade the next day. And they did, but on the way there they took me to the beach to ‘try and help me get over my fear’.” Ethan scowled. “They left me on a sandbar! For four hours until my dad came and got me!”

Aiden winced. “How old were you?”

“Eight! And still dumb enough to think my brothers were good people.”

“And how did you get them back?”

“Oh,” Ethan smirked. “I haven’t. Yet.” He looked around before leaning conspiratorially. “I’m the youngest, I couldn’t do anything to them. But they’re about to start having kids. My revenge can wait.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’d take it out on your innocent nieces or nephews?”

Ethan grew somber. “Collateral damage is inevitable in every war.”

It was ridiculous, but Aiden couldn’t help but grin at his antics. Actually, he’d been smiling so much his cheeks hurt, something he didn’t know was possible. It’s not like Aiden was a particularly happy person but he didn’t think he was so bad that his face would hurt after a single conversation.

“What about you?” Ethan asked. “Any siblings?”

“No,” he answered quickly. He used to wonder what his life would be like if he had a sibling, someone who could help shoulder the burden. Someone who might have been better at reading his parents. In the end, he decided it was probably best they only had one child.

“Parents got it right on the first try?” Ethan waggled his eyebrows.

Aiden hummed as he finished his beer. The alcohol was making him warm and pliant, so he answered honestly. “More like one was one too many.”

“I know losing the farm was tough, but it couldn’t have all been bad.”

And there he went again, causally bringing up the farm like that. He didn’t tiptoe around it, lower his voice and use euphemisms to describe it. No, full voice and barreling ahead like he wasn’t dancing in a minefield. Maybe that was why Aiden couldn’t get angry about it. Maybe that’s why he kept talking.

“It wasn’t all bad,” he acknowledged, looking out into the bar without really seeing. “My dad taught me everything I know about ranching. And no one knew animals better than my mom. She had this great way of being empathetic but also practical.” As he spoke, he began recalling memories he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Like when his dad had him change the trucks battery for the first time and he accidentally laid the wrench on the positive and negative terminals at the same time. The thing sparked and started a fire, nearly melting the wrench to the casing.

Aiden had been terrified but his dad had just laughed, clapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘bet you won’t do that again.”

Now that he was thinking about it, his life could be split into two halves—before the whiskey and after. He was sure at the time it was a gradual transition, but time had made the edges sharper. It was like one day his dad was taking the time to teach him how to keep tension on wire fencing and the next he was slumped over his desk, eyes tearing up from the sting of alcohol while he glared down at numbers on a piece of paper.

People say first impressions are important, but it was the last memories of his father that left a bitter taste in his mouth. They stayed with him, overpowering all the good. Despite that, this was the second time that Ethan had made him think past them. Wade through the prevalent memories, with all their pain, and look back to the ones he’d forgotten. The ones that shaped him into the man he was.

Being with Ethan was like standing under an umbrella. Beside him, he could be dry. Comfortable in his own skin. Breathe through the tension in his chest. But if he stepped away, all of that—the ease, the memories that made him smile—were washed away in the downpour. Leaving nothing but cold discomfort.

Shaking himself, Aiden tried to focus back on the conversation. “They were just…they had a lot going on. Mom tried her best to keep up appearances, kept dragging our asses to church and all that but selling her horses was more than she could take. Dad drank and she looked out the window and stopped doing much at all.” He swallowed. “She’s in San Antonio now. Says she’s happy, so…”

He didn’t want to see the pity in Ethan’s eyes, so he looked away, tried to find interest in the random crap they’d nailed to the walls. Eventually his attention drifted to the TV hung over the bar. It was a small flatscreen with a ticker tape of subtitles lagging across the bottom. He was too far to see the words, but he didn’t have to.

The reporter was holding a puffy microphone up to Everett. He was sweaty, hair pushed back off his forehead and grass stains on his jersey. Even without the sound he could tell it was a post-game interview, and judging by the way he was talking, it was a good one.

His chest squeezed the moment he recognized him. It was like another memory, one that was bogged down by all the bad. It floated to the surface, playing out in front of his eyes like a home movie.

It was one of those nights where his mother was sitting at the kitchen table, picking at her nails for hours while his father drank in the living room. The atmosphere was so oppressive it was crushing, a weight he couldn’t escape. Then Everett texted him and all that weight sloughed off. He jumped off the porch and jogged down the long drive so Everett didn’t have to get out and open the gate. Aiden couldn’t even remember what it was they did that night.

But he remembered the freedom Everett brought with him. The ability to leave and do whatever he wanted. The reprieve from his mother’s vacant stares and his father’s sour breath. Away from another costly tractor repair or a sick sow.

Nothing existed beyond the cloudy beams of the headlights.

That’s what Everett was to him. An escape. Permission to exist as someone beyond Aiden Brooks—the suffocating son of a failing family.

Noticing his distraction, Ethan grabbed his wrist. Softly, just a press of fingers to drag his attention back to him.

“Let’s play pinball,” he suggested in a way that wasn’t a question.

Aiden glanced back at the ancient machine in the corner. “What? You don’t want to play a game of pool?” his voice was raspy, not nearly as sure as he’d like it to be.

“Nah,” he said as he stood up, stepping past the table to lean over Aiden’s shoulder. His weight pressed into his skin as he turned to speak directly into his ear. His breath seared across his skin, electrifying every nerve. “Much as I’d love to see you bent over, I want to save that view just for me.”

By the time Aiden resumed breathing, Ethan was halfway to the pinball machine. He unclenched his fingers from the edge of the table and shuddered as he realized Ethan wasn’t just messing around. He was flirting with Aiden. He played back the rest of the evening and found that he’d been doing it a lot. Openly. Like he wasn’t nervous or ashamed.

He was more surprised to discover that he liked it. His cheeks were flushed with heat and when he remembered just how Ethan’s hand had felt, impossibly large on his shoulder and his breath with the faintest trace of nicotine, that warmth pooled in his gut. Hunched over, Aiden tried to remember the last time that had happened because of someone and not just because. Or as the result of his half-hearted attempts to find something on the internet worth his time.

This was a first for him and underneath the simmering anxiety was an undercurrent of excitement. For so long, so long, he hated that he was different. Wrong. Beyond not being attracted to girls, he wondered if he had any kind of libido at all—at least beyond what his body did without his input. But here he was, hunched over a sticky bar table, because Ethan had whispered in his ear.

Well, he’d done a lot more than whisper in his ear. The images he’d planted in Aiden’s mind were almost too intense to imagine. Especially in public. He was grateful he wore his loose jeans today.

Regaining control of himself, and the tent in his pants, he stood up and stiffly and made his way toward the back of the bar. Ethan was fussing with the pinball machine. Aiden would have thought he had no idea what he’d done to him, but the man was wearing a satisfied little smirk as he tapped the button on the side of the game.

He took two more steps before his attention was drawn back to the TV. They were showing Everett’s game replays. Aiden would know Everett anywhere. He still moved the same way he did in high school.

“You’re not going to ask anything about him?” Aiden asked, his voice sounding faraway.

That smirk slipped off Ethan’s face as he turned to glance over his shoulder at Aiden. Cocking a hip, he leaned against the pinball machine. The neon lights from the beer signs on the wall glittered in his eyes.

“I got the answers I needed, Aiden.” He gestured for Aiden to join him, and he found himself powerless to disobey. “I’m not here for him. Hell, I’m not even here for you.”

Aiden couldn’t meet his eye. He didn’t know why he asked. That wasn’t like him at all but he just…he wanted to suffuse himself in the warmth of the evening. Enjoy feeling like a normal person—out to a bar with a guy who he enjoyed spending time with.

He looked up when Ethan paused, head cocked so he could meet Aiden’s downturned eyes.

“I’m here, in this bar, drinking crappy beer and eating freezer burned onion rings with you, for me. Because I want to be here.”

Any reservations he had, any thoughts of Everett and his signature playing style dissipated the moment Aiden looked up to get lost in Ethan’s eyes. In the low bar light, eyes not soft but sharp, an edge to them that twinkled with the promise of its cut. He was looking at him. No, he was seeing him. For the first time in what felt like his entire life, someone saw him.

It had always been about the farm. Or about Everett. Or Billy. Or Everett and Billy. Aiden was on the peripheral, never more than a side glance. Hovering on the edges like he was one step from falling into the black.

But Ethan had seen him. From that first day, he’d left Everett and Billy to come to Aiden’s side. He came back for him that night too, even though he didn’t have to. And he kept coming back. Always looking at him.

Then and now.

God help him, he liked it.

That smirk returned. “And right now, I want to kick your ass at pinball.”

Aiden grinned, his eyes crinkling under the strength of his smile. “You’re on.”

The buttons stuck and the paddles were loose, but they played. Turns out, Aiden had a bit of a competitive streak and had to keep himself from cursing up a storm the moment Ethan beat him. Again. Ethan found the whole thing hilarious and especially enjoyed riling him up. He even offered to play the last game with one hand behind his back, which led to Aiden threatening to dump a pitcher of beer over his head.

By the time the paid their bill and left, the night was chilly. They stepped into the lot and gasped the moment the cold air hit them. It felt like sucking in razor blades.

As they crossed the lot, Ethan’s hand brushed his, pinkies bumping. Aiden fought against his ingrained need to jerk his hand away and left it there. Let his pinky knock against Ethan’s with every step. It felt like holding his hand over a fire, the longer their skin touched the harder it was to hold it there. But he couldn’t pull away, not tonight. Tomorrow, when the cold light of day crept over the horizon, he might feel different. All that fear and shame that he’d carried with him might come back. But tonight, he was free.

The drive back to the ranch was quiet, but not silent. It was like time existed in their own little bubble. The soundtrack of the radio hissing and crackling, wind whistling past the broken rearview mirror, and the tires crunching over uneven roads. As good a concert as Aiden had ever heard.

They didn’t speak. Speaking would form a timeline, a tangible tether to the world when they were happy to exist in this liminal space. A place where Aiden could smile, and pinkies could touch.

The drive was too short, and Aiden found his fingers lingering on the shifter long after the truck had rocked into park. There was no heater in the truck, and the frost on the window was beginning to creep in from the corners. Too afraid to look over at Ethan, he forced his eyes to stay on the cracked leather of the steering wheel. It wasn’t what he’d see in those coffee-colored irises, it was what he’d see reflected. It had been so long since he’d looked himself in the eye, he wasn’t sure if he could do it now. Not after the night he’d had.

Eventually he couldn’t justify counting the stitches in the leather any longer, so he pushed out the truck, dropping to his feet. The moment his boots hit the ground it was like time began again. He was suddenly part of the Earth’s rotation and the heady rush of it was disorienting. While he was getting his bearings, Ethan joined him on his side of the truck.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he grunted, forcing himself to look at Ethan for the sake of politeness.

“Thanks for letting me,” Ethan replied breezily, his shoulder resting against the rusted cab.

He still had groceries in the back, but he’d come for them later. When Ethan wasn’t leaning against the door like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Night.” He began walking toward the bunkhouse with his ballcap pulled low. Isaac would probably be asleep, and he could use the quiet to sort through the events of this evening. Put it all in some kind of order he could make sense of.

A tug on the back of his belt had him staggering backward. Twisting, he tried to catch himself only to find he was already caught. Ethan had him in his arms, one hand sliding around his waist while the other tipped his head back.

Ethan kissed him. A warm press of lips that had the same confidence Ethan had in everything he did. No reservations, no shame. Pulling him so close there wasn’t an inch of room between them, Ethan’s cold fingers caressed his cheek. Aiden’s ballcap flipped backwards. By the time it hit the ground, his eyes had fluttered closed, and he was kissing him back.

Pulling back, Ethan’s breath ghosted across his face in short, warm undulations. Without opening his eyes, he knew he was looking down at him. The fingers on his hip squeezed gently, but it was enough to give Aiden the confidence to open his eyes. When he did, Ethan’s soft smile was a contrast to the molten burn in his eyes.

“Now that’s how you say goodbye after a date.”

When he stepped back, Aiden shivered at the loss of his warmth. He nearly chased him, like a comet unwillingly pulled into the orbit of a planet. Catching himself, he watched as Ethan strode back to his truck.

He tracked the brake lights as they bumped down the drive. His lips tingled and he reached up to touch them, to see if he could feel a difference. They felt the same. But he was different.

Aiden had kissed a man sober. And he didn’t regret it.

Turning on his heel, he couldn’t keep his lips from curling into a grin. In the privacy of the dark, he let himself feel what he could only assume were butterflies in his stomach. He’d long thought them migrated, moving on to more hospitable climes. But they buzzed around, wings fluttering with the thrill of something he’d never allowed himself to experience before.

Just before he got to the bunkhouse door he paused.

Did he say date?