His Country

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

If there was one thing Aiden got from his father, it was the ability to work. Despite his shaking hands and the persistent urge to look over his shoulder, Aiden worked.

He fed the animals, patched the tractor, even managed to help a cow calve. The little guy was healthy with his spindly legs and wet nose. It was easy like that—one chore at a time. A twisted part of him might have even enjoyed the knot tightening in his chest. Just like the day he climbed into the back of a battered pickup, spitting dust out from between his teeth into the dry wind as they crossed the Texas border.

Hurting was easy. But it was also tiring. He’d forgotten that. The drag of his feet, the weight on his chest as he struggled to get a full breath. It was like treading water, and with every passing moment the urge to stop grew stronger and stronger. To close his eyes and drift down. Just for a moment. To rest.

But then a moment turned to two, and he’d have sunk too far, unable to reach the surface again.

Aiden wasn’t sure he wanted to. If he deserved to.

So, he just kept swimming. Paddling until he couldn’t anymore, until the call of moonshine was too strong, and he’d sink to the bottom of a mason jar and rest.

Billy and Everett were still on the farm, no doubt planning something for the wedding, but he didn’t dare stray too close to the house. Not that he thought Billy would try and talk to him again. He was persistent, but he wasn’t stupid.

And maybe that should bother him more, but Aiden was having a hard time caring about his argument with Billy. Aiden had been having that same argument with himself for years. Over and over again, and even if he could go back and do it all over, he wouldn’t. For right or wrong, Aiden had made a decision then and he still thought it was the best thing he could have done.

To avoid Isaac and his stories of a warm family holiday, Aiden found himself hanging out in the paddock with Eagle. His ass was damp, and his hands were frozen, but he couldn’t make himself get up. Head tipped back, he looked up at the stars and tried to count them all. Sometimes a shooting star would streak by. Aiden didn’t make a wish. He didn’t know what he’d wish for.

Sugar laid her head in his lap, and he warmed his hands in her fur. She’d been clingier lately, picking up on his mood. Poor girl should have been used to it by now.

She perked up a second before he heard the scuff of feet. He clung to her, hoping she wouldn’t leave him. The footsteps slowed for a moment before picking up, stopping beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out a dark shape. Breath plumed white from where he was hiding in the thick collar of his coat.

“You’re an asshole,” Everett said without venom. He said it in the same way he might have commented on the weather to someone standing beside him in line for coffee, with a twinge of frustration but dripping in inevitability.

Aiden had seen him from a distance a few times, but he had always been moving. Walking away. Now they were standing still, pretending to look at the stars when the heft of their stares was palpable.

He’d seen him on TV a dozen times over the years, but nothing compared to Everett in person. Besides getting bigger, he looked the same. His face still boyish, eyes as blue as a cloudless Texas sky. But being handsome had its limits, and if Everett Reid was anything he was limitless.

He was a lot like those shooting stars up above them. The brightest streak across a sky full of stars. One you’d wait for hours just to catch a glimpse of. And when you did? All you wanted to do was close your eyes and make a wish, hoping for a touch of what makes it so special.

“I never meant to hurt him.” Aiden hadn’t spoken for nearly two days and his voice sounded strange to him. Dusty, maybe. Like the way it did after a long ride with no water.

“I know.”

Surprised, Aiden finally dragged his eyes from the stars to look at him. Everett had his hands in his pockets, rocking back on the heels of a beaten-up pair of Converse. The same kind he used to wear every day back in high school.

Everett met his gaze, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “You forget, I knew you first. You were my best friend too, Aiden. I know you’d never do anything to intentionally hurt Billy. Just like I know you’ll never tell us why you left.”

Aiden didn’t know what to say. If you’d told him Everett was coming into the paddock to talk to him, he’d have sworn he’d be getting hit. Or screamed at. Everett had always been passive except when it came to Billy.

But here he was, his face the same as it was in Aiden’s memories, with his nose buried in the lining of his puffy jacket and his stupid sneakers squelching in the mud, talking to Aiden like there wasn’t five years worth of misunderstandings and emotion gaping between them.

In all of Aiden’s heart break, he forgot that they started out as friends. That Everett had once been the person he sat in silence with.

“You’ve never been a big talker,” Everett continued breezily. “And I think that’s why our friendship always felt so one sided. I took advantage of your silence. Didn’t ask about what you had going on because it was easier not to. To focus on me. That wasn’t right.”

Aiden never thought of it that way. He’d never wanted to put himself first. Thought that was his choice.

“But I’m not going to apologize for that. Just like I’m not going to ask you to apologize for anything.”

He scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the ground, a nervous habit Aiden thought he would have outgrown. “You leaving hurt, but I figured you had a reason. All the stuff that went down with your family and the farm, Billy and I—don’t look at me like that, I know we can be insufferable—I knew you left because you had to. It sucked. But I accepted it.

“But Billy, you know him. He’s always been the touchy feely guy. Wants everything to mean something. That empathy is part of why I love him. He makes up for what I lack. He’d never let me get away with not asking.” His lips curled ever so slightly, lost in a memory that made him smile without realizing it.

Everything with Billy always came naturally to Everett. He makes up for what I lack. That made sense. Aiden had seen it the first night they met, when the night reeked of burning gasoline and tinny music playing from a car stereo.

They hadn’t seen it, so maybe to them it had seemed subtle. They took their time to fall in love. But Aiden was on the outside looking in, and it had been blazing.

Everett huffed, shaking his head. “Here I am doing all the talking again. Guess things really haven’t changed.” He took one more look at the sky before unsticking his sneakers and turning to leave.

As he walked away, shoulders hunched, he called back, “You should fix things with Ethan. He’d never accept your silence, either.”

Eagle snorted as he climbed the icy hill, head down and ears pressed flat to his skull. The sun was setting over the hills, bleeding a sorbet of colors like a final stand before the night eventually stole them all. Covered the colors with a blanket so impenetrable, even the stars seemed subdued.

Aiden rubbed the back of his nose with his gloved hand, looking up the trail to see how much farther they had to go. Even Sugar seemed tired, tongue lolling out with her breath fogging out in front of her in great gasps.

It had snowed a little last night but melted during the day. For the time of year, it was fairly warm. Maybe not warm enough for most people to want to camp out but Aiden wasn’t most people.

He hadn’t asked permission; just told Isaac he was going and packed his saddle bags. Eagle looked mildly alarmed when he tacked him up, snorting pointedly as if to remind Aiden that it was too cold for him.

Aiden had never gone out this late in the year, but he needed space. Needed the clear air above everyone’s bullshit to fill his lungs. There was a part of him that thought if he sat down on the ground, opened his jacket, and let the cold air it, it might freeze his bleeding wound.

He tried to keep his mind blank as they rode, determined to get to a wooded section of hill that was protected from the wind by a sheared off piece of granite that had been blown off by dynamite during the gold rush.

The creaking of leather, the rake of icy wind across his skin, and the quietening of birds and other animals as night fell kept him company. With each step away from the farm he felt his chest easing, breathing becoming easier.

By the time he had gotten Eagle settled and made camp, he almost felt normal.

Though, really, he wasn’t sure what normal was. A few months ago, he would have said normal was keeping his head down and putting one boot in front of the other. And while that might have been true, it didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to return to that.

In the privacy of the trees, with nothing but the fire crackling in front of him, he could admit that he didn’t want to go back to that Aiden. It was a hard truth. One he wasn’t sure he could have admitted even two or three days ago. But talking to Everett had changed things.

He couldn’t say why Everett had sought him out. It certainly wasn’t to fight for Billy’s honor or get revenge for the pain he caused. If Aiden hadn’t known better, he would have said that maybe Everett missed him.

Because so much of Everett was tied up in the heartbreak, it was difficult to remember the good parts. The reason the heartbreak hurt so bad to begin with. Hanging out with him after practice, sitting on the curb of the school parking lot so he didn’t have to go home. Talking trash about the other boys on the team or playing their own version of fantasy football. They even had some movie marathons—watching B sci-fi movies until they couldn’t take it anymore.

All of that had seemed more important to him than talking about his parents. Looking back, with all the benefits of knowing what he knew now, it was obvious just how little they actually talked. It was all surface level. Banal chatter to keep his mind off the things he didn’t know how to face.

For years, Aiden was just trying to survive, and Everett was his only reprieve. Everett had made it seem like he was selfish, but Aiden didn’t see it that way. That’s what Aiden had needed at the time, much to Billy’s frustration. He had tried to get more than what Aiden wanted to give.

Aiden poked the fire with a stick, watching as some of the wood crumbled in a shower of sparks.

It might not have been much, but that short conversation with Everett had been freeing. It was like he had been given permission to move on. That Everett might not have understood, but he accepted it. Aiden had always thought that Everett was a train barreling toward greatness and he was just a stop along the way. He’d been bitter about it.

But now he felt like he could step back, wave as the train moved past him, knowing he was never meant to board. Everett had always been temporary and accepting that didn’t make either of them a bad person.

With a sigh, he reached for one of his saddle bags. Just beyond the light of the fire, Eagle was pawing at the cold ground, looking for something good to eat. Aiden clucked at him, snorting when all it elicited was a grumpy ear flick from his favorite gelding.

Flipping open the bag, he traced the leather stitching until he came across the glass mason jar. The moonshine was clear, distorting the light of the fire when he looked through it. So innocent. It was hard to believe just sniffing the stuff was enough to curl your nose hairs.

Aiden scraped his fingernails along the ridges of the cap. He’d had alcohol since his little incident, but not moonshine, and he felt guilty for even considering drinking it. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Except he wasn’t a kid, he was a grown ass man. Even if he didn’t feel like one.

He might have felt some closure when it came to Everett and Billy, but Ethan was still a thorn he’d yet to pull from his side. Thinking back to the last couple of months, he sometimes wondered if he hadn’t died that night. That all of this had been a dream and he was really six feet in the ground, buried under a flimsy wooden cross no one would remember once it rotted away.

Over and over, he’d told himself that the thing with Ethan didn’t mean anything. That it was just two guys who needed something from the other. Because that was easier to manage than understanding what Ethan loving him meant.

It was one thing to lie to someone else and just pathetic to lie to himself.

Ethan wasn’t just some guy, he probably never was. From the day he pushed past Aiden’s hissing and biting and then stayed when he tried to play dead, Ethan was so much more.

He’d never accept your silence.

No, he wouldn’t. And as incredibly aggravating as that had been, it had also been nice. Ethan hadn’t so much slipped into his life as kicked in the door and sat beside him, and at some point, that smirk had changed from something annoying to the doormat in front of his door. Something welcoming him home.

Ethan had done the impossible. He’d made Aiden stop hating himself. Showed him the good in life. Praised him for surviving while showing him how to live. That it wasn’t enough to be fine, and to ask for more.

He’d given him so much and all Aiden had done was retreat, fall back into his shell. Because that was safe. That was what he’d known. He thought he’d run from Texas and left it all behind but all he’d done was carry it with him. Packed it away so deep he didn’t have to look at it, but he felt it. Every damn day. Dragging him down until he didn’t even realize he’d been walking on his knees until Ethan came along and helped carry the weight.

The bank might have taken his farm, and his parents might have taken his childhood, but Aiden had stolen his future. Snuffed it out before it even had a chance. So focused on all his yesterdays that he never considered his tomorrows.

He thought he couldn’t do anything but be angry. Hold onto his resentment and bitterness until he was buried with it. His parents wouldn’t apologize, and the bank didn’t care.

So why did he?

Why did he care about a farm that was never really home? Why did he care about a childhood he could never get back? Why did he care about what strangers behind some stained glass said about him?

There were brief moments with Ethan when he stopped caring. Stopped thinking and just did. He thought it was Ethan, and maybe he was the inspiration behind it, but it was Aiden who leaned forward and kissed him. Aiden who, for a shining moment, lived in his own skin and liked it.

And he could do it again.

Not alone. But then, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to do anything alone ever again. Aiden wanted to go grocery shopping with Ethan, drink beer under neon lights, play old pinball machines, maybe even tease him across a pool table. He wanted to touch Ethan without second guessing himself, love him without shame.

But to get that, he had to let go of his past. Let go of the farm, his parents, Everett, Billy, and that little dusty town where the gossip was whispered behind hymnals and judgement fell from lips pretending to pray.

Aiden tightened his fingers around the cap of the mason jar, twisting it until it clattered to the ground beside his knee. Inhaling the acrid fumes, he lifted it to watch the fire writhe behind distorted glass before taking a long swing. It burned. Napalm flooding his throat to ignite once it hit his stomach, flames licking across his ribs until they reached his heart.

With every beat the warmth crawled through his body until it felt like there were two fires crackling against the icy mountain air.

Aiden let the alcohol sting his lips as he reached deep to grasp at things he’d never dared to bring into the light. And then he twisted his wrist to pour the drink into the ground beside him.

He poured one out for the little boy who tried so hard to protect his father from a villain that looked like a mailbox.

He poured one out for the confused tween who didn’t get why the other boys liked watching the girl’s gym class.

He poured one out for the teenager who experienced love and loss for the first time.

He poured one out for the young man who didn’t know how to love but was ready to learn.

They were part of him. And despite the pain they caused, he would grieve them. Wail to the heavens while he let them burn on this little funeral pyre. He’d cry for that little boy who still thought his father was indomitable and loved when his mother shared her love of horses. Cry for that awkward tween who didn’t have anyone to ask for help. Cry for that teenager who was so unused to feeling anything that he grabbed onto heartbreak with both hands and refused to let go.

And he’d cry for the young man who was still trying.

From their ashes, he would rise. But first, he had to feel the burn.

Exhaling, he righted the jar and saw there was still a little bit of moonshine sloshing around the bottom.

Lifting it up to the sky, he toasted to tomorrows. To the long journey he was about to undertake, one full of more peaks and valleys than a mountain range. Full of fear, and hopefully, triumph.

Aiden closed his eyes, tipped the jar back, and swallowed the last of the moonshine. As it seared down his throat he felt like a sinner as they lifted their head from the waters, opening their eyes on a cleansed soul and a new day. One full of change and possibility.

Tears filled his eyes as he dropped the jar, falling back onto the ground with his arms spread out. Sugar joined him, resting her head on his shoulder, eyes bright in the night. And as the tears slipped down his cheeks, and his dogs wet nose pressed into his cheek, he thought that just for an evening, this was his country.