Day 13 — THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
Now playing: sun to me - mgk
The fever dream had officially settled into a rhythm.
I woke up late, later than Silas normally did, which was a first in our entire relationship.
Usually, I was the one dragging him out of bed, but today, I just lay there in the quiet room, reflecting on how much of a blessing this disaster had become.
Being home for two weeks felt perfect. It felt safe.
For the first time in years, the imposter in my chest was silent.
I wasn't even sure I wanted Presley Murran to call back.
I liked being the man who lived in a creepy old farmhouse.
The only thing we hadn’t done on our home list was hang the porch swing. We’d talked about it for months, a massive, solid-wood swing where we could sit and watch the sunrise together.
I was pulled out of my thoughts by a sudden, rhythmic bang-bang-bang of hammers from outside, followed by the muffled sound of multiple voices. I groaned, rolling over to find the bed empty. I pulled myself up, tugging on a pair of sweats.
I stepped out onto the front porch, squinting against the bright morning sun.
The scene was pure chaos. Silas, Maverick, Scott, Colin, and Taylor were all standing around a massive, heavy-looking wooden bench. They were bickering at a volume that could probably be heard in the next county.
“Oh hey, sleeping beauty decided to wake his ass up!” Taylor yelled, pointing a hammer at me.
“When did your annoying ass get home?”
Taylor snickered as he helped Scott hold up a heavy iron chain. “Probably while you were getting your back blown out, fuck-face. You two aren’t exactly quiet.”
“Taylor!” Scott, Silas, and Maverick all yelled in unison.
“For the love of all things holy, don’t ever say that shit in front of me again,” Maverick pleaded, looking like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Silas was a bright, mortified red, his eyes fixed firmly on the chain he was holding.
I walked up to Taylor, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leaning in close so Maverick couldn’t hear. “Still selling vapes at soccer practice, kid?”
Taylor went rigid instantly, his eyes wide as he stared at me like I was the Grim Reaper.
“Can you two stop bickering and come help us hang this ridiculous-ass swing that Silas insisted had to be up before noon?” Colin groaned, struggling to lift his end of the solid oak.
I looked at Silas, who was finally looking back at me with a soft, tired smile. I stepped in to grab the center of the bench. “I’ve got it,” I said.
We worked together for another hour, the five of us maneuvering the heavy wood until the chains finally clicked into place. It was perfect, a solid, permanent piece of our home.
As the brothers and the dads headed back toward Maverick’s house for lunch, Silas and I stayed behind on the porch. We sat down on the new swing, the wood cool against our skin. Silas leaned his head on my shoulder, and I kicked my feet off the ground, starting a slow, gentle rhythm.
“We did it,” Silas whispered.
“Yeah,” I said, looking out over the yard. “We did.”