5. Josh
JOSH
B rushing out Clover, I cursed Dove with each stroke. She was acting like a royal brat, and she knew it, but even worse? I couldn’t find it in me to harbor anger at her for treating me the way she was. I deserved it.
I’d done the very thing I promised I’d never do.
I left her.
She just didn’t know why.
Clover’s hooves clomped against the floor as she fidgeted, and I realized I’d been brushing the same spot on her speckled coat for the past few minutes.
My face scrunched into the scowl I almost permanently wore since coming back home.
Dove held permanent residence in my mind, having been on it nonstop for the past three years, but being back here—seeing her after so long—she consumed my thoughts like the rage of a wildfire.
She’d been eighteen when I left, newly graduated and on the cusp of adulthood. She’d been beautiful to look at even then, in the grasp of awkward teen years, but now?
She was a knockout.
Long, rich brunette hair that hung past her shoulders when she left it down, a soft, curvy waist that looked the perfect size to fit my large hands, sun-tanned skin my lips craved to taste, and thick thighs I wanted wrapped around my head.
The mare in front of me whinnied, mad I’d stop brushing altogether now.
Those thoughts, those feelings… they were the exact reason I’d left three years ago.
They were dangerous.
They were wrong .
But that didn’t stop me from having them.
Adjusting my jeans, which were already tight without my growing situation, I placed the brush down in the supply bucket.
“Sorry, Clover,” I apologized contritely. My head just wasn’t in it. My hand caressed a soothing path along her flank as the other dug around in a pocket for a treat. She’d been good, it was me who was having the issue.
A meow caught my attention as the mare nibbled at my palm. Walking along the stalls toward me with graceful balance was a black cat.
“Omen!”
He meowed again in greeting, coming to a halt before me. As he adjusted his paws, I knew seconds before he jumped where he was aiming.
I “oofed” as he landed on my shoulder, steadying him until he got his balance. The old cat still had plenty of agility.
“Hey buddy.” I titled my head toward his as he nuzzled against my forehead. “I missed you.” His purring increased, and I knew enough cat language to know he returned the sentiment.
As if a few years hadn’t passed since he’d done so, Omen kept me company, perched on my shoulder, as I finished up my chores with the horses.
Being the runt of the litter had caused him to be on the smaller size for a full-grown cat, but he was still a little too big to sit there comfortably.
It’d been a habit he’d had since a tiny kitten, and one he’d never broken.
I refused to shoo him off like I usually would when his presence got to be hindering—his company was welcomed.
At least someone around here was pleased to see me.
I finished the stalls soon after, the horse’s content to graze out in the far side of the pasture and enjoy the sunny day. Omen had grown tired of being jostled on my shoulder as I worked and had found a nice patch of sun to lay in instead.
Sprawled just outside the door to the stable, he squinted lazily up at me as I passed him.
There was no sign of Dove nearby, but I wasn’t surprised.
She’d made sure to avoid me like the plague since her heated words earlier in the morning.
Honestly, she made sure we weren’t anywhere near each other since I’d been back, the only exception being our parents’ funeral.
I’d heard the mower start up a while ago and imagined she was up in the meadow, mowing the overgrown grass.
Most of the surrounding property was taken up by the farmland we rented out, but plenty was left for the hay we grew to sell—and the pasture, which would easily become overgrown with weeds if left unattended.
Wetting my hands at the spicket, I ran them over my sweaty face and used an old cloth I found to wipe myself clean.
In the distance, over a small hill, the mower rushed over the grass, Dove manning it perfectly.
For some odd reason, she loved mowing the lawn.
I found it tedious, but with some headphones blaring music, it was bearable.
She’d told me once that for her it was a way to turn off her thoughts and just be . Maybe that’s why she was up there now.
The urge to just… be near her came over me, and I decided to head up there.
I squinted up at the sky, noticing how high the sun was.
Just a little past noon, it looked like.
I’d heard her leave a while ago, which meant we’d both missed lunch, and I knew she likely had another hour to go before she’d be done.
Dove would want to finish it all in one go, even if her stomach was growling at her in a demand to feed it.
I’d always been the one looking out for her with that.
It was easy to get sidetracked on a farm with endless chores, no matter how small they might be, and she had a bad habit of forgetting to break for meals.
I’d always been the one handing her a snack, or a sandwich, when I knew she’d gone too long without eating something.
Even though I’d been gone for a while, it seemed that forgetful habit of hers hadn’t changed.
The stairs of the porch creaked as I climbed them, making my way toward the kitchen. I sighed when the cool air hit my overheated skin. Slipping my boots off at the door, I padded into the kitchen.
I was no culinary genius, but I could whip up a damn decent PB&J.
The mower grew louder as I crested the hill, sandwiches cradled in my hand and a water bottle tucked under my arm.
As typical of Dove’s work, the grass was cut in neat lines, and I could tell she was nearly finished.
The only spot left, and the section she was currently working on, was back where the animals tended to avoid, which meant the grass was higher, the weeds worse in that area.
Her arms flexed as she maneuvered the levers, and when she spun the mower around, she saw me, pulling them back to crawl to a stop.
The engine idled for a moment before she leaned down to cut it.
With the loud rumble gone, the quiet grew deafening. Birds cawed quietly in the distance, and the small creek that cut through the property babbled, but our breathing was the loudest thing in the open air between us.
She brought an arm up to swipe at her sweaty forehead, pushing back a loose strand that had fallen from her messy bun.
She’d started with it down in the cool of the morning, but as the sun rose, she’d pulled it back off her neck.
The sight of her brought back memories: us working on the tractor together, her laughing as I swiped grease onto her cheek, her chastising me for sleeping in too late and making her get a head start on all the work by herself, and sitting by the lake—just the two of us, with the stars above for company.
She always looked like the prettiest girl in the room to me, especially with her hair like this, and those moments were some of the best I’d ever had.
They’d been on constant replay in my mind these past few years when I’d been lonely and aching for home.
The urge to tell her that was strong, to tell her that she’d been what I’d missed the most since leaving. Not my dad, not the farm. Her.
“I brought lunch,” I said in greeting instead, holding up my meager offerings. I hoped it was enough to create a cease-fire for her anger, at least for the time being.
When she made no move to get off, I closed the distance between us, coming up to the side of the mower. She didn’t need to come to me, I’d go to her. I’d always go to her.
I waggled a sandwich at her.
She eyed me for a moment, as if debating whether to take it or not. I heard the growl of her stomach and fought down the curl of my smile. It was silly, but a part of me was triumphant that I knew she’d be hungry. As much as she was adamant we were strangers to one another now, I still knew her.
At the sight of my suppressed smile, she snatched the sandwich out of my hand irritably and took a bite.
The sour look on her face softened as her eyes fluttered closed—as if it were the best damn thing she’d ever tasted—but I knew it was less about my amazing sandwich-making skills and more about finally getting food in her belly.
Heat stirred low in my own at her reaction.
To distract myself, I took a hasty bite out of my sandwich.
Up on the hill, with the smell of freshly cut grass surrounding us and cicadas humming in the trees, we ate lunch together for the first time in three years.
The thought alone had my sandwich catching in my throat, and I cracked open the water to take a sip, helping it to go down.
But it didn’t help. Seeing her in the flesh after all this time and being near her…
it was almost too much. I cursed the years that had been taken from us and the hurt it had caused.
I cursed my father.
Gulping down one last swallow, I offered the bottle to her.
She licked a smear of peanut butter off her pinky before grabbing for it and chugging the remainder. My eyes gravitated toward the inviting length of her tanned neck.
Then I cursed myself. For my wandering gaze and for not bringing a second water bottle. I should have brought two. I was going to. But I’d put it back last minute.
I’d wanted us to share, for our lips to have rested on the same spot, even if it was only the rim of a Deer Park water bottle.
That seemed like a foolish wish now when I could tell she was still thirsty.
“I can go get another, if you want,” I offered.
She shook her head, taking another bite of her sandwich. She chewed, then swallowed. “I’ll be okay, I won’t be out here much longer. I’m almost finished.” She tilted her head to the remaining portion of the pasture.
That may be true, but I had plenty of time to go down and grab one and be back before she was even close to being done, but Dove was stubborn, so I didn’t push.
A few bites later, we finished our sandwiches.
With them gone, I had no reason to linger.
She still had to finish, and I wanted to take a walk along the property—have a look at what might need fixing.
My dad had been good at keeping up, but he’d been distracted since Josie’s diagnoses, something I only knew from old high school friends and their updates.
And a voicemail from Dove, of course. It’d been one of the only times she’d called me since I’d been gone.
I hadn’t received one call, text, or letter from my father since that night he told me to pack my bags and leave.
I hadn’t expected one, not when I was practically dead to him.
Funny how that worked out in reverse for us, in the end.
Even though I hadn’t been here, I’d made sure I knew what was going on with my family. I had to for my own sanity. Thank God for my local friends, who kept me up to date when they could—perks of living in a small town.
“Well.” I stuffed my hands into my back pockets and rocked back on my heels. “I’ll let you get back to it, I guess. I’m gonna walk the fence line and make sure everything looks good. Don’t want any of the animals escaping.”
She nodded, giving me a look I couldn’t quite read.
The inability to understand her expressions now bothered me, but I supposed there were parts of each other we weren’t familiar with anymore. The thought stung, but the guilt stung harder. It’d been my absence that caused it, after all.
When she didn’t say anything, I turned to make my way back down the path I’d come. I only managed a few steps before she called out my name.
Glancing over my shoulder, she cast me a tiny half smile. “Thanks.”
The sound of the mower starting back up covered the excited beating of my heart.