Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
BITTERN
I see her again, while I’m walking down by the cow pond, looking for some chunks of wood so I can mess around with my carving kit.
She’s riding a chestnut horse, moving fast. Her hair is all tousled, real pretty, bright like the goldenrod back home.
Just a flash of her has me stopping to stare at her figure moving through the field.
My stomach jerks.
I shake my head. I gotta stop this shit.
That night, I can’t sleep, even with the lights on.
Around one in the morning, I get up and take a shower, thinking it’ll hit my reset button.
The water is hot, near about burning, on the back of my neck.
The sear is nice, in a painful way. I roll my head, everything cracking.
In my head, I’m turning over the image of the first time I laid eyes on her, standing in the lane.
She’s pretty, and I liked the look of her.
But I don’t stand a chance. I’ve had enough disappointment to last me a lifetime.
A slight pressure starts down below. My eyes snap open.
I’m hard.
It’s been so fucking long since I wanted anyone, I don’t remember the last time I got hard.
It was before the accident, back when I was still dating around a bit.
Then, they put us in the ground, and all I could think of was getting out, then dreading the second I had to go back underneath.
When the first pain pill touched my tongue after I got out of the hospital, any thoughts of getting back to normal flew out the window.
Whatever shit was in those pills, it killed my sex drive completely.
I couldn't get hard to jerk off anymore even if I had the urge.
Holy shit—I’m hard.
I’m pretty sure I’ve never been this excited about seeing my own erection before in my life. Moving cautiously, like I’m going to scare it or something, I wrap my hand around the base. It twitches, arousal flooding down the way it’s supposed to.
My eyes shut, one hand planted on the wall as the other works off distant muscle memory.
It’s a little embarrassing, but I think about her face, her hair softly grazing her shoulders, the elegant slope of her hips, her legs.
She’s got beautiful legs. I’ll bet they're smooth like silk. I wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around my waist in bed.
A groan slips from between my teeth as I finish in rolling waves of pleasure.
It’s a shock, leaving me tingling, and it feels so…
normal. Silence hits, save for the spray of water.
My chest heaves, more from shock than anything else.
Alright, I think I’m done here. Fumbling, I get my hand on the handle and turn the faucet off.
Did that just happen?
For the first time in ages, a flood of energy moves through my body.
I’ve gotten by with a closely followed schedule.
Wake up, act like a person, make some coffee because that’s what people do, head out and do some work because that’s what puts money into my account and keeps a roof over my head.
Rinse, repeat, and I’m good. It hasn’t made me feel anything so far.
But this, seeing a glimpse of her, made me feel a little bit stronger—and a lot hornier than I expected. It’s hard to tell how horny I am after so long without a sex drive. Maybe I don’t have a good grasp on what my baseline is anymore.
All that being said, I sleep hard that night.
The next morning, Andy is gone in town, which throws off my carefully curated schedule of events.
I have my coffee then walk out to the barn and saddle up Starling, but it’s my brother-in-law, Deacon, who rides around the corner on his giant horse, Bones.
He comes to a halt, glancing me over from beneath the brim of his hat.
“You look less sad than usual,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say.
It took a minute to adjust to his straightforward personality, but I realize now this is his way of being positive.
It’s a compliment, albeit a backhanded one.
He takes his hat off for a second, flashing the ink up his buzzed head, then adjusts it back on.
Every time I get a good look at him, sitting on his giant horse, it makes me realize I don’t know my sister as well as I thought.
“We got a water flow problem at the creek on the west border,” he says. “I’d like you to come along with me. Ed’s gonna handle general maintenance shit for the day.”
I jerk my head in a nod. He swings Bones around, and I follow them out into the yard.
Freya’s puppy, a gift from Deacon before they were even together, Stu, is rolling around in the dirt.
We thunder by, and he jumps up, running as far as the edge of the fenceline.
Someday, he’ll be big enough to roam the ranch.
Today, his legs are too stubby to get beyond the yard.
We head up the hill, through the field. Deacon doesn’t do much by halves; he’s going at a full gallop. I’m having some trouble persuading Starling to match his gait. By the time we pull up to the creek, he’s already been waiting there for a few minutes. The corner of his mouth jerks up.
“She’s a lazy one,” he says.
I pat her neck, and she shakes her head, blowing out an annoyed huff. “She’s alright. We’ll get there when we do.”
Deacon swings down. “Ain’t that the truth.”
The creek is dammed up with debris, a pretty common occurrence in areas where there’s higher ground above water, I’m beginning to realize.
All it takes is a few days of bad weather, or a short, fierce storm, to send sticks, rocks, and dead grass tumbling down the hill into the water.
It wouldn’t be an issue, except the creek is routed to run quickly, like a funnel, so the cows at the bottom always have a fresh source.
Which means we’re always out here clearing impacted mud and sticks out.
Deacon wades into the water in his boots, and I follow, coming to a halt when it hits my waist. It’s cold as hell, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, so I’m not about to complain. It wakes me right up, making me work faster.
“You got plans this week?” he says.
I glance up, confused that he’s chatting. “No. Why?”
“You should go into town.” He shrugs, yanking at a long branch. “Put yourself out there a bit.”
I narrow my eyes. “Freya been talking to you?”
“Talking at me,” he says. “My wish, her command.”
“You mean the other thing?”
He stops to squint up at the sky. “Yeah, her wish is my command. Something like that. Anyway, you need to look like you’re doing something productive with your life so I don’t get in trouble. Because yeah, she talks to me.”
I pause, unsure how to explain myself.
“I am doing something,” I say.
“You work and shit, but I think she wants to make sure you’re happy.”
I jerk my head in a nod. “I am happy.”
It’s his turn to stop and hit me with a critical stare. “Nah, you’re not happy. Just…happier than you were. But that’s not saying much, considering how fucking miserable you were before rehab.”
“Thanks.”
“You need to get laid.”
I knew that was coming, I’ve hung around men like Deacon all my life, and I know a one-track mind when I see one. Scooping an armful of muck, I fling it up onto the bank. “Oh yeah? That's gonna fix everything?”
He shrugs. “Fixes most things for me.”
“I don’t want to hear all that.”
“You squeamish about sex?”
I stop. “No, man, you’re married to my fucking sister.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense. Alright, a hypothetical…how about you go get laid because I hear that it helps you to not be such a fucking wet blanket. You like being alone at night or something? It’s not all that fun, I put in my time.”
I open my mouth, but shut it as the memory of what happened last night floods back. That shower did make me feel a hell of a lot better, good enough I think I’ll have another one tonight. Clearing my throat, I shrug, like this is no big deal.
“I’m working on it,” I say. “You tell Freya that.”
“That you’re working on getting laid?”
“No, Jesus, that I'm working on being happier.”
We both stop, soaked and coated in mud. There’s a second of silence, then he laughs, and I can’t help but smile.
Deacon is an alright guy. I like that he just goes back to work, and lets me ruminate in my thoughts.
The water clears out, and starts flowing again.
I swear I can hear the happy lowing of the cattle by the time we swing up on our horses and point them in the direction of the ranch house.
It’s a nice thought, even if they are just cows, that I made them have a better day.
We get back to the barn around noon. Freya’s outside, sitting on the porch steps with Stu rolling on his back in the walkway.
Deacon comes up, and I look away so he can get a kiss from her, mud and soaked clothes and all.
When I glance over again, he’s stepping around her, trailing his hand on her waist as he dips inside.
I see it between them, a kind of softness that wasn’t present a moment ago.
It strikes a chord.
Growing up, Aiden, Wayland, and Ryland were big, tough, and mean.
I was always the quiet one, too soft for Aiden’s attention.
He was rigid in his own marriage, with his sons, and even worse with Freya.
It always made me feel like the way I am was somehow wrong, but Deacon has me feeling like it’s alright to be a little bit gentle.
I sink down on the steps. Stu flips over and comes up, nudging me enthusiastically with his nose.
“I always wanted a dog,” I say after a minute.
Freya frowns. “Really?”
I shrug. “Yeah, guess so.”
“Why don’t you get one?”
The thought that I have the free will to get a dog hadn’t occurred to me.
I watch Stu push at my hand with his nose, nipping when I take too long to respond.
My first instinct is to shrug and say that maybe I will someday then forget about it.
But I don’t know…I kind of like this little guy. It could be nice to get one of my own.
I’m quiet. Freya reaches out and slips her hand through my elbow.
Neither of us speak for a while. We’ve sat together on porch steps for so many hours, we couldn’t count them at this point.
Only this time, my mind is clear, and I see everything in full color, not pushed behind a haze of everything I’ve tried to forget—the fields, the trees in the distance, slate gray mountains, and the soft scent of summer riding in on the wind.
Even if I end up alone, it was worth it to get clean just for this.
Deacon comes out with Slate against his shoulder.
Freya stands, going over to pat his back and check his diaper.
I lean against the railing and watch them, together like a family.
She’s smiling in a way I never saw her smile before Deacon and Slate came along.
He’s looking down at them like they make the sun rise and set.
Our family was never like this. I’m so damn grateful that out of all of us, she got to have something good. I’m so lost in my thoughts, it takes me a second to hear Freya say my name.
“Huh?”
“You want lunch with us?” she asks.
“Nah, I’m gonna walk down to the mess hall,” I say, pushing myself upright. “I want a shower before I eat.”
She doesn’t answer, just stands by Deacon with her palm rested on Slate’s back.
But I see that look in her eyes, the wistful wishing that I would be as happy someday.
I don’t know how to tell her I am happy.
My expectations for my life have always been low.
Being clean and healthy, having a house and a job, feels like I made it.
I’m kind of scared that if I wish for more, a big hand will swoop down and snatch everything back.
And I don’t mind sitting on the porch by myself at the end of the day.