His Country

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

After being warm for so long, it was the absence of heat that drew Aiden from his sleep. Groaning into his pillow, he fought for as long as he could. Until the chill crept in, goosebumps rippling across his skin like the wind over tall grass. The discomfort drove his eyes open, blindly reaching for Ethan.

He found an empty bed. The sheets wrinkled from where Ethan had been sleeping. Cold snapped through him and he sat up, feeling his back twinge. He was too old to be having sex on the floor.

Sex.

He’d had sex with Ethan.

His nails dug into his hands as he looked around the bunkhouse. Grey early morning light filtered through the frost on the windows. The fire had died down. The room was chilly enough he could see his breath. And Ethan was gone.

Pulling the blanket up around his shoulders, he slipped off the bunk. Sugar looked up at him from her place on the couch, tail wagging. He scritched behind her ears as he double checked the front door. Ethan’s snow-covered boots were gone.

He’d had sex with Ethan and now he was gone.

Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, he tried to reason with himself. It was the day after Christmas. He probably had to go home. His absence didn’t mean anything.

But that didn’t stop Aiden’s stomach from dropping. He hadn’t regretted what they did the night before, he had wanted it. Let himself want it. But now Ethan was gone, leaving Aiden alone with cum drying on his skin and a hole in his heart he didn’t have a name for.

It took me three to fall in love with you.

At the time, Ethan had been there. He smelled like nicotine gum and there was so much warmth in his eyes that it had been easy to ignore the swoop of anxiety those words caused. The immediate shame that came dressed like panic, hidden beneath the want and the comfort that Ethan brought. But now he was alone, cold, and unsure where he stood. Aiden hadn’t said anything back to him. Hadn’t done anything except get lost in his own head.

And now he was alone. Again.

Aiden hadn’t realized just how much he hated it. That there was something worse than heartbreak, worse than anger that didn’t have anywhere to go. Loneliness was twice as painful and more stubborn than the Texas Hill Country. Aiden grew used to it, but then Ethan came. He came and he took up so much space, made Aiden comfortable in his own skin, and now he was gone. Because Aiden didn’t say anything back. Or because he was terrible at sex. Maybe he wasn’t sincere. He just said those things to get Aiden on his back and?—

Sugar shuffled up beside him, wet nose pressed to his thigh and tail thumping against him. Aiden’s knelt, burying his face in her neck. She smelled like dog, dirt, and old leather from her collar. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was familiar.

She danced under his attention, her nails making little tippy noises on the hardwood floor. He sighed fondly. Regardless of how he was feeling, he had animals to feed. The weight of responsibility grounded him. Giving Sugar a final pat, he lifted his head to see a flash of white under the kitchen table.

It had been hidden behind a table leg. Ripped on one side, corner bent, he instantly recognized the messy scrawl. Like the writer couldn’t be bothered to lift his pen between letters.

‘Had an emergency call. Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you soon.

--E

P.S This would be so much easier if you had a phone, you technophobe.’

Aiden snorted, fingers dimpling the paper. He read the note again and found it was easier to breathe. Just knowing that Ethan hadn’t been lying. That he’d meant what he said, it put some of his worries at ease.

But not all of them.

As he fed Sugar and got ready to venture out into the cold, he tried to get his head in order. Ethan hadn’t abandoned him. He had a legitimate reason for leaving. Emergency calls were part of his life. Aiden was fine with that.

It didn’t change the fact that he still felt listless. Like he didn’t fit in his skin, bones so small he was rattling around. Movements clumsy. It took him two tries to get his boots on, and his fingers shook as he pulled his zipper up. Everything was loud—Sugar eating, the kibbles crunching between her teeth, and her tag clanging against the metal bowl were like percussive blasts.

He’d had sex with Ethan. And he’d liked it. Maybe if he hadn’t liked it things would be different. He could chalk it up to experimenting. Trying something new. But no, he liked it. Every moment—from the way the pressure turned to pleasure, Ethan’s hands, his filthy words that stoked Aiden in a way he didn’t know he could, the grip of his hand. All of it. It was like fitting a key to a lock he’d long given up opening, and now he couldn’t deny it anymore. Questions he was too afraid to ask about himself were answered.

Yet he still couldn’t admit it. Not even in the privacy of his mind. It was a label he’d been afraid of for so long, being faced with the confirmation was too much.

And Ethan wasn’t here. That bubble outside of time they could exist in together popped in his absence and Aiden didn’t know what to do.

So, he did what he always did.

Tugged his hat down low and put one boot in front of the other. If he ignored the knot in his chest, the gaping chasm in his stomach, and the shaking of his hands he would be fine. Aiden could disappear into the grey of winter, hide in his chores.

He was fine. He was always fine.

Sugar dashed out the open door, plunging into the first snow drift she saw. Body wriggling, she buried herself until snow dripped from her coat and clung to her quivering whispers. Her happy whines followed him as he opened the barn to begin loading up the UTV with feed. Aiden had even agreed to feed the goats in Isaac’s absence. He considered it his good deed. ‘Tis the season and all.

The lights were on in the big house. Shadows moved across the windows, smoke coiling from the fireplace. Frank might make an appearance later, but Aiden preferred when he didn’t. Winter was the slow season and there was a reason he paid people to do the chores. Frank focused on buying and selling, maintaining finances. All the office work Aiden couldn’t stand.

Aiden spent the better part of the morning feeding all the animals. He spent extra time putting eyes on all the horses and checking the cows and calves. They didn’t seem to mind the cold, chewing their hay while their breath plumed in front of wet noses.

By early afternoon the sun had come out and the snow was beginning to melt. He’d shed his outer coat, hanging it on one of the stalls so he could work on the tractor. He’d noticed the turning was a little sticky only to find a small crack in the transmission.

“Fucking Isaac,” he swore as he pulled his gloves off with his teeth. Dumbass must have run over something when he was building a corral for the goats.

Despite the nuisance, he was grateful to have something more stimulating than daily chores to keep his mind occupied for the remainder of the afternoon. Sugar slept off her morning shenanigans curled up in a sunbeam while Aiden stomped around the tractor, muttering threats to Isaac’s person. Everything from stubbed toes to war crimes.

Sweat prickled his brow as he scooted under the tractor, hands covered in grease and hydraulic fluid. He really should weld it, but he didn’t have the equipment. Frank might have to send it off. That would be a real issue with the weather. With all the snow and mud, they really needed the tractor.

Sugar’s snores tapered off, leaving the barn oddly silent. Aiden huffed. “What’s the matter? See a mouse?” he teased as he knocked his hat back, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist.

He waited to hear her skittering across the floor after some furry quarry, but all was quiet. Shifting his hips, he tried to see if he could get away with not grinding the metal down and possibly putting a temporary patch on the crack.

“Aiden.”

His name echoed like a gunshot. Dripped from lips he didn’t need to see to picture. It was harsh, harder than the last time he’d said it. Then, the syllables had been rounded with relief. Softened with question. Now they were hard edged. Dropped with purpose.

The sweat on his skin froze. He shivered as it rolled down his back. Aiden stared up at the crack framed by his fingers. He was trapped. The only way out from under the tractor was right beside Billy, and Aiden suspected he wasn’t going to leave. His sneakers were planted, toes wet from the melting snow. Mud congealed in their treads.

Black spots danced in his vision, and he realized he wasn’t breathing. He wanted to claw at his throat. Bury his hands in his shirt. But he couldn’t. They were covered in green grease and sticky hydraulic fluid.

“I know you can hear me.”

He almost laughed.

Swallowing thickly, he gripped the undercarriage and slid out from under the tractor. Head down, he blocked Billy with the brim of his hat. Maybe if he didn’t see him?—

Billy sighed and oh. He remembered that sigh. It was the same noise he made when Aiden said he didn’t mind quitting the football team. Or when he said he wasn’t going to the dance.

He didn’t miss it. That disappointing exhale brought nothing but memories fuzzy with time but drenched in feelings. Ones he’d rather have stayed in Texas. Maybe if he wasn’t trapped in the barn with grease on his fingers, he’d find it funny that Everett’s memories were wrapped in a soft sort of nostalgia, but Billy’s only brought pain. The kind that didn’t bleed.

Billy had always seen him. In ways Everett never did. There was something in those shrewd blue eyes. An awareness that cut through him like a knife. He could never lie to Billy.

And he couldn’t tell him the truth.

Tilting his head back, he let his hat lift enough to so he could see him. Billy was wearing a light sweater and jeans. Not nearly enough for the weather, and his skin was pale. He never did like the cold. Not enough meat on him.

He was seeing Aiden, and it was so, so close that every muscle in Aiden’s legs twitched with the need to run. His heart was thundering, hands clenching on the ground beside him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Billy wasn’t supposed to be here. Why was he here?

“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?” Billy asked, his eye lashes fluttering like he was fighting back tears.

Aiden shrugged. “Don’t have anything to say.”

He stepped back like Aiden had swung at him. “No,” he spat around lips twisted in a snarl. “Guess you wouldn’t. You never do. Just up and leave without a word.”

Aiden wished he’d hit him. That he could deal with. A good pop to the nose would be fine. But this? Looking at him like he’d…like he’d broken his heart. That was too much.

Billy had no right to be heart broken. Aiden hadn’t taken anything from him. Billy had Everett and his future. Everything he could ever want, and now he was looking down at Aiden like he’d done something terrible. When all he’d done was make sure they never had to know the toll their happiness took on him.

They had everything and Aiden had nothing.

Pushing himself to his feet, he resisted the urge to straighten his hat. He looked past Billy toward the barn door. “Guess so.”

He stepped around Billy, intending to make it to the door. All he had to do was walk. One foot in front of the other and he could make it to the truck. Or the bunk house. Anywhere but here.

“That’s it?” Billy shouted, taking two long strides to block Aiden from the door. “No. No way. You owe me an explanation! You just—you can’t just pretend like nothing happened. You disappeared, Aiden! We thought you were dead. Or kidnapped. Halfway to Mexico and we were going to get some ransom letter with your fucking fingers.”

Aiden couldn’t look at him. “I left.”

“I left,” Billy mocked. “Not good enough. I know losing the farm was rough but?—”

“You don’t know anything,” Aiden snapped, finding that surge of anger that was so familiar. It was like a cat curling up on his lap, grounding.

Billy blinked, surprised by the sudden outburst. He’d never heard him raise his voice before. Hell, Aiden couldn’t even remember the last time he did.

“I know you were my best friend,” Billy said, crossing his arms. “I know that one day I said ‘see you later’ only to never see you again. I know that there was a For Sale sign by your driveway and your parents wouldn’t answer my calls.” His lip wobbled. Aiden hated it. “What I don’t know is why? Why? What did I do? I-I’ve spent so many years wondering why and I can’t…Aiden.”

Billy was crying. Like it was no big deal. Billy was wearing his emotions, his life, on his face like he wasn’t ashamed. Or scared.

That was why.

Because Aiden only knew how to hurt. He would always be in love with heartbreak and have a tooth under his pillow. The person on the peripheral, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. He never knew which end was up.

Because Everett and Billy were summer crops. They blossomed in the warmth, reaching for the sun with big, bright petals that caught the eye. And Aiden was winter. Thriving in the cold, the dark, and damp. Only planted out of desperation.

They might have shared the same field, but they’d never sprout at the same time.

“I had nothing,” Aiden said, surprising himself.

“What are you talking about?” Billy asked, his eyebrows scrunched. “You lost the farm but that didn’t matter. We would have figured it out! Everett, me, and you. We had each other we had?—”

“Everything,” Aiden cut him off, his voice low. “You had everything, and I had nothing. I’m sorry if that hurt you.”

And he was sorry. He didn’t think his leaving would affect them so badly, and maybe there was a small, petty part of himself that was pleased they had hurt a fraction of what he had. But it was shrinking by the second. He’d never wanted to hurt them, that was partly why he left. To keep them from being dragged down. To let them blossom under the sun.

He pushed past Billy, desperate to put distance between them. Knuckles leaving lines of grease on his jeans as he walked, he made a beeline for the bunkhouse. It was cold and empty, with moonshine in the fridge. Exactly where he belonged.

For a while Aiden thought he could want more than just being fine. But the look on Billy’s face reminded him why he hopped state lines, why he kept to himself. Maybe it was his parent’s fault, or maybe he was just broken, but Aiden was who he was.

And, God, did it hurt. He had gotten used to the knot in his chest, the endless wound that would never heal. But then Ethan had come by. He’d smiled and pushed. Smoked a cigarette he claimed he didn’t like. He stayed.

Until he didn’t. Maybe it was this morning with a note, or maybe it was next week. But he’d leave. That’s what people did. They looked over Aiden to the future beyond him, a place Aiden couldn’t see because he was so busy looking at his own goddamn feet.

Halfway to the bunkhouse someone grabbed his wrist. Aiden jerked his hand, ready to clock Billy if he had to, only to find himself looking up into warm brown eyes.

“Aiden?” Ethan’s brows were drawn. His jacket was open, stethoscope hanging around his neck.

And suddenly he could breathe. Ethan’s shoulders were blocking the view of the barn and he was looking at him in that way he did, and it was so comforting, Aiden found himself drifting into it. His heart rate settled, and he nearly buried his nose in the sheepskin lining of his coat just to get a whiff of sterilizer and tobacco.

Everything from last night came rushing back—his hands, the comfort of his body, the way he held him all night with his breaths huffing clammy against Aiden’s skin. For the first time since he woke up that morning, his mind settled.

“What did you say to Billy? He’s crying.”

Aiden froze. For a moment, it was like the world stood still, and then he felt it. A crack down the center of his chest, so profound he swore he could hear it. The sound of his ratty, patched heart breaking.

Stumbling back, he looked up at Ethan’s face and noticed he was glancing back toward the barn. Toward Billy. Like they all did. Everyone looked through Aiden to see Billy and his fucking petals.

Blinking, he tried to pull away, but Ethan still had his fingers wrapped around his wrist, following him as he backed away. They were clean. Nails trimmed and skin glowing. Such a contrast to Aiden’s. He’s always been just a dumb hick. He was stupid to ever think otherwise.

“Billy,” he laughed, humorlessly. “Must be my fault, right?”

Ethan jerked his attention back to Aiden, confusion written all over his face. “What? Babe, that’s not what I said.”

Aiden wrenched his arm free so hard it knocked Ethan off balance. “Don’t call me that!”

Hand still stretched out between them; Ethan took a step toward him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know something must have?—”

Aiden shook his head. “You don’t know anything.” Why did everyone think they knew so much about him? What gave them the right? “You don’t know me. I’m just the guy you fuck.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “What?”

Swallowing thickly, Aiden began picking at the grease on his skin. Desperate to get rid of it. All of it. The conversation with Billy. The kisses. Camping under the stars. That night at the bar. Sex. It wasn’t him. Aiden wasn’t—he couldn’t be?—

He could still hear it. The boys in the locker room, their words sharp as they ricocheted off the metal lockers. The preacher in church. His mom and dad when they would reach for the remote to change the channel because they’re everywhere nowadays.

It was all so loud he wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn’t. His hands were covered in grease, and he wanted it off so fucking badly but Ethan was still looking at him and it was getting harder to breathe.

It’s a sin, Aiden.

Why can’t they just be normal?

Love the sinner, I guess…

I’m going to ask Billy to prom.

I need your help, or we’ll lose the farm.

I love you.

The last one hurt the most. Because it was wrong. No one loved Aiden. They couldn’t. There was nothing to love. Because Aiden wasn’t and he couldn’t be.

“I’m not—” he croaked, staring down at his hands. “I’m not—we’re not…I’m not like that.”

Ethan’s lips were pressed together. “You’re not or you don’t want to be?”

Aiden was going to throw up. Nausea roiled in his stomach in great heaving waves. He kind of hoped it would choke him.

“I can’t,” he whispered around the nausea, his hands shaking in front of him. The grease was thick around his callouses. He can’t. Not with these filthy hands that only ruined everything. They couldn’t save his farm. They couldn’t make Everett love him. They couldn’t make his parents notice him. They couldn’t do anything except throw bales of hay.

He wasn’t good enough.

“It was never just fucking around,” Ethan said, voice icy. “Not for me.”

“Bullshit,” Aiden cried, his voice thick. He looked up from his hands to see Ethan’s stony face. He wanted to run. He was good at that. “I’m just another one of your projects. Another thing for the Patron Saint of Assholes to save.”

Ethan’s throat bobbed. “Is that what you think? That all I want is to fix you?”

“Isn’t it?”

He stepped forward, like he wanted to grab Aiden. “I want to love you, jackass!”

His words landed like a bomb. Shrapnel exploding out in every direction, slicing, and cutting with such precision that he didn’t feel the wreckage it wrought until a few moments later. When the blood drained from his face and his hands dropped to his side.

Aiden didn’t realize he was running until he was on the other side of the bunkhouse. The space didn’t help. Falling against the wall, his hand left a streak as he stumbled to his knees. A sob wrenched its way out of his battered chest. It was the only way he could breathe.

But it was fine.

Aiden would always be....fine.