Peacocks (Licking Thicket #5)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Jay

A few hours after Lane fell asleep, I had to admit defeat. Sleep wasn’t coming for me. I had too much on my mind.

As much as I’d enjoyed every minute of my evening with Lane, and as relieved as I was to hear he wasn’t taking Chad’s job offer and moving away, I had to remind myself there hadn’t been any kind of declaration in his words or actions.

Lane had said he was happy in the Thicket, that he felt good and cared for when he was with me, and that he appreciated it so much he’d gone to the trouble of setting us up a nice lunch.

All that was great.

Really, genuinely great.

Not only did it make my chest squeeze that he’d gone to the trouble of showing me his appreciation—though Lane was always thoughtful that way—his decision to turn down the Georgia job meant we could keep doing what we’d been doing for the past couple of months: spending time together, casual and easy, for as long as he stayed in town.

That should have been enough, I knew. For a small-town guy like me, keeping someone who shined as bright as Lane Desmond in my life in any capacity should have been enough. It’d be greedy to ask for more. But damn , when I was holding Lane in my arms and watching him sleep, fresh from feeling him come undone on my cock, I felt all kinds of greedy.

I wanted more with Lane.

If I was being really honest, I wanted… everything.

I wanted commitment and love and Entwinin’.

I wanted a wedding at the town event barn and for us to raise the next generation of Licking Thicket Bovine wide receivers (or cute little mathletes, or animal lovers, or artists, I didn’t care) together.

I wanted us to watch Disco Dave’s great-grandfowl strutting around our yard.

I wanted forever.

But it wasn’t up to me.

I carefully disentangled myself from Lane’s bed and stood, watching with a grin as he rolled into my warm spot—as per usual—and burrowed under his blankets.

Tomorrow was the Entwinin’, and I had a metric shit-ton of stuff still to do, so I snuck out quietly and made my way down to my workshop. There were a few things I wanted to add to the wreath I’d made Lane, and I needed to get it done before finishing up the other projects on my workbench.

The encounter with Chad and then my conversation with Lane afterward rolled through my head as I took a seat on my stool. Now that my anger and hurt feelings were mostly soothed—and, okay, now that I’d come my brains out and held Lane tight for a while—I could finally think clearly.

The wisteria vines bit into my palms as I twisted them tighter, forming new additions to Lane’s wreath.

Lane had said he was happy here, and if he’d said it, he meant it. The man I loved was no liar. I knew he enjoyed working with Alva and Pete, he enjoyed getting to work with animals rather than just teaching about them, and he enjoyed getting to know his “patients” and their owners. After last night, I knew he had feelings for me. I knew he cared about me.

But that wasn’t the same as wanting to be together for the long haul. And from all the reminiscing Chad had done, it was clear Lane had been happy in his last life too… until he hadn’t.

If there was one thing Chad’s visit had made me realize on a gut-deep level, it was that Lane’s world was much bigger than mine. Now that I knew what kind of situation he’d given up to move here, I couldn’t help wondering how likely it was that someone as smart and talented as Lane would stay in Tennessee permanently, giving Mrs. Moore’s Persian cat yet another claw trim (“because Doc Lane has a real talent for soothing my Susannah’s delicate feline nerves”) and spending time with a man who genuinely enjoyed working at a car wash, when he could find himself a high-paying job in a bigger town and a man he’d be proud to have on his arm.

I truly didn’t know.

I wasn’t without hope—there were plenty of couples in Licking Thicket, including Dunn and Tucker, and my own cousin Charlie and his Hunter, where someone had moved in from a big city and decided to stick around—but the odds seemed low. I was a lucky man, but I didn’t know if a person could get quite that lucky.

And that was… well, I couldn’t make myself say it was okay, even in my own mind, because it wasn’t.

Losing Lane would hurt worse than when I’d been team captain and the Bovines had lost the football championship in double overtime during the last game of my senior year. Worse than the time I’d managed to have the stomach flu and the regular flu and a sprained rib, all at once. Worse than anything I’d ever felt.

But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t love him while I had him. I’d never understood the sense of cutting yourself off from caring about other people just because they might eventually leave—that would be like never eating ice cream because you might someday be lactose intolerant or never learning to walk because you might end up with gout like old Herman Wanamaker.

In fact, the opposite was true. I wanted to love Lane as hard as I could for as long as I could. I wanted to love him like it was my full-time job. I wanted that man to be so loved up his whole body glowed like a neon sign. I wanted to hold up a mirror and show Lane his own worth until joy burst out of his stomach like that creature in the Alien movies and?—

Shit.

I blinked down at the wreath in my hand, finding I’d managed to twist a vine into a tiny feral alien just waiting for Sigourney Weaver to come along.

I sighed. Hopefully, Lane wouldn’t notice since there were plenty of other things for him to see on the wreath.

I wiped a hand across my brow, smearing dirt over my skin, and got back to work. This wreath needed to be perfect. For Lane. For the man who deserved everything.

The smell of fresh blooms filled the air, mingling with the scent of sawdust and the faint tang of Georgia clay I’d used to create the base for my Georgia Bulldog wreath. He’d been a professor at UGA and had spent a number of years on campus and in the community. It was silly, probably, but I wanted him to have pieces of where he came from and to show him just how well it coordinated with the place he’d ended up.

I’d also worked some tiny wooden carvings of animals into the vines—his patients, the ones I’d seen him care for with that steady, quiet determination. I’d shaped a small peacock feather out of wire and tucked it near the top, a nod to Disco Dave and the day Lane had looked at me like I was more than just his landlord. I’d crafted a honey jar and added that, too, as a symbol of how much I loved our mornings together.

My hands moved on autopilot, but my thoughts ran wild, picking apart every stupid dream I’d let myself have over the past six months. Lane smiling at me over breakfast. Lane’s hand brushing mine as we wrangled Disco Dave and his crew. Lane kissing me like I mattered.

I smiled to myself. As much as I gave Lane, he gave me back a hundredfold in the simple pleasure of his company, the warmth of his presence, his daily kindnesses, and the way he let me care for him, not because he necessarily needed it but because he understood I did.

The two of us could sustain each other for a lifetime, if he’d let us, and I wanted the wreath to show that too. I wanted him to see the hope and possibility of a life with me. I wanted him to see that my heart was his with no strings attached—no contracts and no down payment required.

This wreath was a story. His story. Our story. And if Lane did decide to leave someday, I wanted him to have this wreath to take with him so he’d remember that somebody in the world saw him, understood him, appreciated him… and loved him.

I stepped back, wiping my hands on my jeans as I stared at my creation. It wasn’t just the best Entwinin’ wreath I’d ever made; it was the best thing I’d ever made, period, and I was pretty damn proud of it.

But it occurred to me that I didn’t quite know how to give it to him.

Some folks liked to make a big production of giving their wreaths right in the middle of town at the Entwinin’ festival, and I understood that. Part of the fun was being able to show the world how much love and pride you had for your Entwined. All the displays of affection, all the positivity and joy from seeing other people happy… it was energizing and uplifting.

On the other hand, plenty of folks preferred to give their wreaths privately—an opportunity for a sweet and special moment between sweethearts or friends—and I understood that too.

But what did you do when your Entwined had said he wanted casual and your wreath practically shouted I’m in love with you ? What did you do when you wanted your Entwined to know how very special he was, but you didn’t want him to feel awkward that he didn’t have a wreath for you or pressured to love you back?

I turned off the lights and locked the workshop behind me. I climbed the stairs to Lane’s apartment and laid his wreath on the Welcome Mat, propped against the door where he’d find it in the morning. That way, the wreath didn’t have to mean anything more than Lane wanted it to, and he didn’t have to worry about responding in any kind of way in front of me.

But when I went home and climbed into my bed to snag a few hours of sleep, the night felt heavier than usual, like the weight of all the things I wasn’t telling Lane was pressing down on my chest.

Eventually—soon, maybe even tomorrow after the festival—I needed to tell him how I felt.

I needed to ask him if there was any possibility the novelty of living in the Thicket would wear off one day… and, if not, would he want to make a go of it with a simple country boy like me?

I woke up only two hours later and packed up my truck with the wreaths I’d made, hoping the noise from the engine wouldn’t wake Lane too early.

The first several deliveries went by quickly. After seeing several sleepy faces light up with excitement when I showed them their custom wreaths, my mood had improved. As the morning wore on and my truck got emptier with each visit, I felt myself relaxing. This was my town, these were my people, and their optimism was contagious.

I loved the Entwinin’. It was like Valentine’s Day but with a ton more authenticity and the social acceptance of expressing love and affection for friends and neighbors the same way we did for our romantic loves.

It was a holiday of celebrating others, celebrating community, celebrating togetherness.

When I finally finished my deliveries and made it into town, the sun had burned off the morning chill, and it had turned into a gorgeous spring day. The square was alive with music and laughter, wreaths strung from every post and hanging from shop doors. Kids ran by with sticky fingers and wide grins while couples walked hand in hand, sharing soft smiles and whispered promises.

I walked toward the center of the action, enjoying the people I’d known my whole life celebrating love in all its forms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because it was.

Maybe my midnight crisis had been my insecurity talking. Maybe I wasn’t giving Lane enough credit to know what he wanted. He’d told me he was happy in the Thicket. Now, in the light of day and around all of the best of what made my town the most special place on Earth, I could see it. Why wouldn’t he love it here? I sure did.

“Jaybird, sweetheart!” My grandma Emmaline walked hand-in-hand with Amos Nutter, the man she still called her beau , though they’d been Proud-Nutters since their marriage a couple of years back. “Happy Entwinin’ to you!”

I grinned back at her before dodging a few racing kids to peck her on the cheek. “And to you. How’d you like your miniature Bovine wreath, Amos?” I asked.

Grandma’s hands were too knotted up with arthritis to be able to make her own wreaths anymore, but I was more than happy to create anything she wanted to her very specific, detailed instructions.

Amos pulled his khaki jacket open to display the eight-inch wreath strung from a rope around his neck like a pendant and nestled against his heart. “Best damned cow I ever saw,” he said, reaching for my hand. “And considering I once showed Rocket Ranger Rosita at the state championships, that’s saying quite a bit. You do good vine, son.”

I shook his hand, feeling strangely proud. “Glad to hear it.”

“And did you see my special message for your grandmother this morning?”

I nodded. “Sure did, Amos. Couldn’t miss it.”

Amos’s thin chest puffed up. “Took me forever to get those cows lined up to spell out ‘ENTWINE ME, EMMALINE PROUD NUTTER.’”

The messages Amos painted on his herd had become so legendary in the Thicket folks came from surrounding towns on festival days just to see them.

But somehow, Amos never seemed to realize that his cows didn’t stay where he put them.

This morning, when I’d passed his grazing field out by the highway, half a dozen cars had been pulled over so people could take cow selfies… and most of the herd had been spelling out PUT TWIN MEN IN ME EMALINE, while the others had their asses turned toward the road.

Still, it was the thought that counted, right?

“It was a… a beautiful tribute to your love,” I told Amos solemnly.

Several other people approached me to thank me for my work on their wreaths and for the Entwinin’ archway I’d created for the grandstand podium. “The kids are almost finished adding the wildflowers to it, and then the mayor will get the dancing started,” I heard Lurleen Jackson telling Latonya Henson. I glanced over to see the archway overflowing with clumps of fresh spring flowers. Seeing it in a riot of colors made my heart swell.

If only Lane was there, I could point it out to him. But I hadn’t seen him yet, which meant he’d probably gotten caught up at work with an emergency. He knew what a big deal the Entwinin’ was in theory, but I couldn’t wait to see him experience the real thing for himself.

The guys from Champion Security stood off to one side, talking and joking around while enjoying Quinn Champion’s spiked Love Punch. I wandered over to say hello to Kandi Nutter, who was hanging on to their every word.

“You’ll never believe the wreath Hux made Kev. It’s non-binary… which is weird because I thought Jordan was non-binary,” she said in a stage whisper.

Jordan huffed out a laugh. “It’s binary code , Kandi. You know, the language computers use? Kev’s a computer geek, so he’s all up in his feels about it. It’s how you say I love you in computer speak.”

Kev shot moony eyes at Hux. “It’s naughtier than I love you. He spelled out something incredibly… um… inappropriate. And Huxley is going to get very, very lucky later because of it.”

Hux wrapped a proprietary arm around Kev’s waist. “As lucky as you got when you showed me your Horn this morning?” Seeing my startled look, he explained, “Kev managed to twine a wreath in our video game, using wisteria from our own homestead. I literally didn’t know you could do that.”

Kev blushed. “You can if you’re friends with the programmers at Horn of Glory and get them to create a limited-time Jasper Huxley Entwinin’ expansion pack.” He shrugged. “I just wanted you to know how special you are to me.”

Christ , I hoped Lane looked half as pleased when he saw my wreath. Made me kind of wish I’d been there to see his face.

I turned to ask Quinn what kind of wreath Champ made for him when I heard a shout.

“Jaybird Proud! I cannot believe you.”

I froze. Lane’s voice cut through the crowd like a spotlight, and he didn’t sound pleased.

Suddenly, it seemed every eye in the Thicket was on me. I turned, and there he was, standing in the middle of the square, holding my wreath in his hands.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear. His chest heaved as if he was out of breath, and his hair stuck out wildly.

I’d never seen him like this before, not Lane the polished professional or Lane the quiet guy who watched me from across the table like he was trying to figure me out. This Lane looked… riled up. And determined.

Shit . Had he felt the super un-casual wreath was a breach of our agreement? Had he felt pressured despite my best efforts? Did he really want to do this in public?

I took a step back, but he kept coming closer, the crowd parting around him like they knew something big was about to happen.

“How could you leave this on my doorstep?” he demanded, holding out the wreath I’d made him. “What in the world were you thinking?”

My mouth went dry, and my face heated to a million degrees. I’d worried about him taking it wrong, but I hadn’t imagined he’d be quite this angry about it.

“I… I…” I swallowed hard. Even angry, the man was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen… and since I’d spent my whole life experiencing the wonders of the Thicket, that was saying something. The way I felt for him was beautiful too, even if he didn’t feel the same. “I was thinking I wanted you to know how much I care about you, Lane Desmond. But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” I hurried to add. “I swear. I don’t expect anything?—”

“Well, maybe you should .”

Lane pulled another wreath out from his back pocket and held it up. The thing was crooked and messy as hell, not like it had been thrown together haphazardly, but more like it had been overworked and re-twined by clumsy fingers until it was mangled.

He thrust it toward me, and my heart stopped. “I made you this,” he said. “It’s not as beautiful as yours, but it’s the best I could do. The very best, because you deserve my very best, Jay, and I want to give it to you. Even if you did leave a wreath on my doorstep instead of giving it to me in person.”

“Lane,” I breathed. I stepped toward him to take the wreath from his hand. It was made with the thin, whippy vines, the ones you had to source weeks before the Entwinin’ before they were all gone.

And it was in the shape of a piece of bow tie pasta.

“This is the most perfect thing I ever saw,” I said, meaning every word.

“Good. Because…” Lane cast a quick glance around, aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. “Because I love you, Jaybird Proud, and this Entwinin’ wreath represents what I love about you most: your generous spirit and the way you care for others. You are the epitome of love, Jay. You might not say it, but you show it. You display your love like peacock feathers. You live the spirit of the Entwinin’ every day of your life.”

There was a mix of gasps and awws from the people around us.

Lane blushed harder. “I love how much you love working at the Suds Barn. I love that you give yourself wholeheartedly to everything you do. And I love the way you take care of people. Whether it’s taking extra care with Penelope Jackson’s wheelchair ramp at the car wash, checking on Skeets Miller’s moody furnace, leaving Italian Gentleman on my doorstep after I’ve had a long day, or letting a bunch of peacocks take over your yard, you are always looking out for others. You are everything good in the world, and you deserve to have someone looking out for you too. I want you to expect things from me. I want you to Entwine me. I want you to…” His face was red all the way to the tips of his ears. “Go steady with me, Jaybird.”

I stared at him. He’d said a lot of words, and I hoped I’d remember them all, but to be honest, my mind had short-circuited after the first and most important bit. “You… love me?”

Someone in the crowd muttered, “I didn’t know you could leave someone gentlemen from any country on their doorstep. Is that Instacart or Uber Eats?”

Lane shot me a grin that said he’d heard the comment and wanted to share his amusement with me. Like he enjoyed this town and its wacky residents as much as I did. “I do, Jay. So much.”

I turned the wreath over, studying the intricate knots. Suddenly, the little nicks and cuts on Lane’s hands these past few weeks made sense. I couldn’t believe he’d been working on this, for me , for so long.

The wreath swam in front of my eyes a little bit, and my cheeks felt damp. “I can’t… I’ve never… Are you sure?”

Lane seemed to understand what I was asking. He stepped closer and lowered his voice so only I could hear. “Baby, I’m positive.” He lifted his hands to my face, and his thumbs brushed away my tears. “You’re enough, Jay. You always were, and you always will be. I’m the one who’s worried that I’m not enough for you.”

“What?” My eyes snapped to his, my tears forgotten. “How could you worry about that?”

“Uh, because you haven’t told me you love me yet?”

“Oh!” God, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t said the words out loud, despite how hard I’d been thinking them for months. “I love you! I love you so much. Of course I do.” My cheeks ached from the size of my grin. I didn’t think. I didn’t stop to worry or doubt or second-guess. I just moved. My hands were on him, pulling him closer, and then I kissed him—hard and desperate, like I needed him to feel everything I’d just confessed.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, but all I could hear was the sound of Lane’s breath mixing with mine. It was the kind of kiss we’d remember years from now when we thought back to the Entwinin’ declaration we’d made.

When we finally broke apart, Lane was smiling at me like I was the only thing in the world he wanted. Like I was the prettiest peacock in the flock. Like I was the one he’d chosen.

People surged around us. Their comments ranged from speculation that we’d simply been overcome by the spirit of the season to comments like Pete’s “It’s about damned time.” I didn’t have much care about any of that since I was too busy soaking in the commitment Lane had made by ensuring his declaration was so public, so permanent that I’d truly believe it.

“I have a confession,” I whispered. “I, uh… I don’t just work at the Suds Barn. I… I kinda own the place?”

Lane’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. Long story, and I promise I’ll tell you all of it, but?—”

“Oh, who cares about that?” Ava Siegel said, waving a hand in the air while holding a baby on her hip with the other. “We’re so happy you two found each other!”

Amos tilted his chin down. “While I can think of a better way of declaring your love in this town, I have to say I’m happy to have a vet in the family, yes I am. Old Clarabelle isn’t carrying her letter boards the way she used?—”

“Oh, hush,” Grandma said, grinning at us as she tucked her hand into Amos’s elbow. “We’re pleased as punch to have you in the family, Lane, because you’re you . And Jaybird deserves someone who recognizes how special he is. Even if you don’t know how to twine a wreath worth a dang. Is that a butterfly? Because it’s missing antennae.”

His eyes never moving from my face, Lane pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh.

Ava stepped closer and looked at the mangled bow tie wreath.

I blinked. Now that she mentioned it… it did kind of look like a butterfly without antennae. “Huh,” I said, turning it around. “It’s multifaceted.”

Amos tsk ’d. “It’s a right mess is what it is. You need to give that boy some lessons in twinin’ a vine, Jaybird. He needs some help.”

In the circle of my arms, Lane’s shoulders shook like he was about to erupt with laughter.

“I like him just the way he is,” I assured him.

Amos shrugged. “Eh, suit yourself,” he said before wandering off, asking Grandma what kind of discount he should expect on the friends and family plan at the clinic and whether or not his “new grandson” Doc Lane would do a bulk deal on bovine house calls.

Lane lost the battle he’d been waging and laughed out loud. The pure joy of the sound made me feel even giddier than I already was.

Still, I couldn’t help asking, “You sure you’re ready for this, Lane?”

As the noise of the festival wrapped around us again, Lane leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re stuck with me now,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around my neck.

And despite growing up in Licking Thicket, despite loving every single thing about the place and never doubting for an instant that this was where I belonged… with Lane’s arms around me, for the first time, I truly felt like I’d found my home.