Chapter 19
Lawson
“Hold this,” my dad says.
I take the honeycomb frame he hands me, a few bees crawling over the surface. “Will they try to sting me?”
“Nah. And even if they do try, they won’t be able to.”
Right. I suppose the suit my dad instructed I put on before he all but dragged me out of the ranch house is good for keeping the bees at bay. Even if I’m starting to sweat under the layers.
My dad makes a thoughtful sound as he checks another of the frames. “Better give it another week before I collect the honey.”
“How do you know when it’s ready?”
“Ah, well. See the honeycomb cells here? Most of ’em needa be capped on top. It’s the bees’ way of storing the honey that’s ready. We’re nearly there. Looks like we’ll have a good harvest this year.”
My dad audibly praises the bees, slipping both frames back into the hive.
Beekeeping is his current fixation. He’s always had one hobby or another to entertain him, for as long as I can remember.
He started this hive not that long ago with the sole purpose of harvesting honey in order to make my mom lavender-honey cookies from scratch, a favorite treat she tried years ago but can’t buy around here.
He’s always shown his love through action more than anything. Not that he doesn’t tell us he loves us plenty. But hearing it and feeling it your entire life are two different things.
“Why are you and Mom divorced?” I ask.
My dad stills for just a second before finishing the task of closing up the hive. Turning away from it, he waves me into step next to him. “Walk with me.”
My dad pulls off his beekeeper’s hat, so I do the same, the two of us looking ridiculous in our all-white attire.
The sun overhead is hot today, the dairy barn not far off from the beehive setup.
It’s peaceful out here. Quiet and a little more secluded than my dad’s cabin-style home near the ranch house.
“Did I ever tell you the story of how your mother and I got engaged?”
I nod slowly, the memory of it a distant thing. “It was spur of the moment, right? While y’all were…outside somewhere?”
“At a friend’s pig roast, that’s right. Doesn’t sound the most romantic, I know.
” My dad lets out a soft chuckle before his voice turns almost wistful.
“But I remember the moment clearly. Your mother was laughing, the sun shining behind her. I thought to myself, ‘this woman right here is the most important person I will ever meet.’ I asked her to marry me. Just two words. And she said yes.”
My dad smiles, stopping in the shade of a large tree. I see a lot of Jackson and Remi in his face. The more angular features. Colton and I have always looked more like our mom.
“Your mother never let me live that down,” he says, sounding fond. “There was no ring. No finesse whatsoever. We were young and rash and foolish at times, me more than her. But we were in love. We got divorced so I could do it right.”
I nearly trip over my own foot, despite the fact that we’re standing still. “What?”
My dad laughs, his smile crinkling his eyes. “You heard. We got divorced so I could propose again. I know that probably doesn’t make sense to a lot of folks, but it doesn’t need to. It made sense to us.”
I shake my head, hardly able to believe I’ve never heard this story before.
But my parents have always been somewhat private when it comes to their relationship.
They’re not…cold to one another. Never have been, despite them being divorced for so much of my childhood and beyond.
But I thought that was part of the problem. Their heated bickering.
“It wasn’t because of the fighting?” I ask my dad.
His eyes widen in clear surprise. “What? ’Course not. Your mother and I fight because we care. So damn much. There’s not a single person on this earth I’d fight as hard for.”
For a second, I’m reminded of Colton and Noah and their less-than-amicable start. “And the separate houses?”
My dad shrugs. “Works best for us. We’re both stubborn. I don’t have to tell you that. A little space reminds us of what we’re missing when we’re both being too hardheaded to apologize.” At my staring, my dad lets loose a laugh. “What, did you think your mother and I had fallen out of love?”
“Well, yeah,” I admit. “I figured your feelings had to have changed, and, maybe, you stuck close to one another for the family’s benefit.”
My dad’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Relationships look different for everybody. Some people are meant to find one another. To stick through thick and thin. I truly believe that. There’s no mistaking when you’ve found a connection so rare. A person you can’t imagine living your life without.”
My chest tumbles and swoops, painted eyes, like earth and air, flitting to the forefront of my mind. I look out toward the far fields leading to the base of the mountains, the knowledge of Oakley so close a comfort, even if I can’t see him right this instant.
It wasn’t the same when he was thousands of miles away. When I couldn’t see his face without a phone screen or feel the vibrations accompanying his voice. When I didn’t have the assurance that he was within my reach if I needed him. To know his arms were available for a hug.
I’ve always wanted Oakley close. Wanted him for my own. Even when we were kids facing the unstoppable tide of time, I didn’t want to lose what I’d found with him.
Someone who understands me. Who listens and makes me feel light. Someone who loves me without a single condition.
Oakley has always loved me. And I’ve always loved him.
Which is why him leaving Darling, leaving me, cut worse than anything else I’ve ever faced.
I find my dad’s gaze, the man watching me patiently. My throat feels hoarse when I speak. “Why did y’all divorce the second time?”
My dad lets out the tiniest hum. “Well, now, I can’t be telling you all my secrets, can I? Oh, look. It’s lunchtime.”
I follow his gaze toward the fields, the ranchers riding in for the lunch hour. My dad is already walking toward the main house, his beekeeper’s hat at his side. I catch sight of Oakley at the back of the group, the lingering pain over his absence lifting into something contented and bright.
Oakley must spot me, too, because he heads in my direction. There’s a grin on his face when he reaches for the rope at the side of his saddle.
“Oak,” I call out, taking a single step back. “Don’t you dare.”
“You better run,” he shouts.
Cursing, I drop the beekeeper’s hat and take off toward a nearby fence.
It’s low enough I could hop over, but the sound of horse’s hooves is fast approaching.
A whoosh cuts through the air before I can reach the barrier.
It’s all the warning I get before Oakley’s lasso tightens fast around my chest.
I go careening to the ground, coming to a stop on my back and staring up at the cloud-dotted sky as Oakley jogs my way, laughing all the while.
The moment he’s close enough, I give the rope he’s still holding a firm tug.
He goes down, catching himself on his knees as he falls over my torso, my best friend continuing to cackle as if he’s having the time of his life.
“Caught you,” he manages, sounding winded.
“If my arms weren’t tied to my sides right now, you’d be getting smacked upside the head.”
Oakley seems to find that amusing, levering up enough for his gaze to rake down over me. “Huh. You look pretty good all tied up.”
“Oak. I swear to God.”
“Why are you dressed like a marshmallow?” he asks, apparently only now clocking the white beekeeper’s suit my dad outfitted me in.
“Untie me, will you?”
“I kinda like you like this,” he muses, his eyebrows bouncing ridiculously.
Oh, good grief.
“How about this,” I say evenly, my gaze drifting over Oakley’s face, those blue-and-brown eyes so close I can see every fleck of color. “Later, when we don’t have half the ranch surely watching us, you can tie me up for as long as you want. And do whatever you want.”
Oakley’s breath catches, the man stilling. He licks his lips, and my gaze drops there. “Do you…want to be tied up?”
“I don’t think I’d mind it,” I tell him truthfully, my stare stuck on his mouth. There’s some stubble there, which I knew, of course. But his lips look soft. I’ve only ever felt them on my neck and back. What would they feel like elsewhere?
Oakley clears his throat before shifting off of me, his cheeks flushed under the midday sun. He sets to work loosening the lasso, helping me to sit so he can tug it off over my shoulders. “All right?” he checks.
“Fine,” I tell him, glancing at the ranch house. Remi waves from the deck, a couple of the ranch hands beside him. I sigh. “Gonna get you back for this.”
“Yeah?” Oakley asks, tone light if not a little strained. Amusement dances in his eyes as he re-coils his rope. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
“Oh, I can think of many ways for you to make it up to me. And I don’t think you’ll complain about a single one of them.”
Oakley’s mouth drops open, the man staring at me for a second. “Jesus Christ, are you…”
“What?” I ask, hefting myself to my feet and shoving down the beekeeper’s suit, more than ready to be out of it.
Oakley shakes his head, swiping his hat off the ground before standing. “I just didn’t realize you had such a mouth on you, Law.”
“Oh, you know I have a mouth. You just aren’t used to me talking about sex.”
“Fair enough,” he says around a huff of laughter. “It doesn’t…feel weird to you?”
“Talking about it?” I ask, the two of us heading in the direction of Oakley’s horse, Clover, who’s waiting patiently for him to return. “No. Why would it?”
“I dunno. Just different for us, isn’t it?”
I consider that as we walk toward the stables, Clover in tow. Most everyone else is ahead of us, inside the house already. “Logically, yes, it’s different. But it feels like the easiest thing.”
“Christ,” Oakley mutters, grabbing an apple from the fridge before glancing at me, something almost hesitant in his gaze. “How, uh, do you see this going?”
“The rope? I figured I’d show up, you’d tie me up, and then you’d fuck me or do whatever else you think would feel good until you’re too tired to keep going any longer.”
Oakley misses a step on his way to Clover’s stall, his answering groan sounding pained. “Fucking hell. That’s not what I meant, but damn.”
My eyes flick downward as Oakley discreetly adjusts himself. “Are you…hard right now?”
He shoots me a sharp look. “D’you have to bring it up?”
“I just… That’s all it takes?”
He groans again, passing the apple to Clover, who happily chomps the fruit. “Don’t let it go to your head, Law.”
“I think I’m gonna. You like the idea of fucking me that much? Is it because I’m giving you blanket permission to do whatever you want? Or is it the bondage that gets you going?”
Oakley bends over, his hands on his knees as he lets out a heavy breath. “Lawson, I swear to all that is holy and not, you needa stop talking, or I won’t be able to go inside that house full of people for lunch. Can we just…revisit this at a later time?”
“All right.”
He eyes me dubiously. “You gonna be good?”
“For now,” I concede.
“Lord,” he murmurs, straightening.
I keep my mouth shut as we make our way to the ranch house, but I can’t help but sneak surreptitious glances Oakley’s way. Knowing I can push the man’s buttons so easily is…satisfying, if I’m being honest.
When we get to the back deck, Oakley veers off toward the adjoining outdoor washroom.
I head inside, passing through the dining room full of people and into the hallway bathroom to wash up.
I’m on my way to drop the beekeeper suit off in the mudroom when I nearly run into Jackson.
My brother is muttering to himself, his gaze on the ground as he passes.
“Oh, Jesus. I did not need to see that. Nope. No. Nuh-uh.”
Curious, I peek my head into the living room, where I find Hank Darling dipping his ex-wife Marigold in a kiss.
A smile plays at the corner of my lips, the sight one I’d happen upon from time to time in my childhood, whether my parents were married or not.
I’ve seen it less these past twenty-some years, having lived away from the ranch house for so long.
“What was that for?” my mom asks the moment she’s upright, a few inches taller than my dad when standing.
He hums. “Someone reminded me today of the importance of holding close the good we’ve found in our lives.”
My mom sets her hands on her hips, her voice turning deceptively soft. “Good?”
“Oh Lord, Mari. You know that’s not what I—”
“I would think having spent over forty-five years with the person who birthed four of your sons—four—would rank higher than good, but what do I know? Apparently, I’m at the same level as a decent slice of mild cheddar cheese.”
My dad sputters.
My mom, apparently having noticed me in the doorway, sends a quick wink my way before refocusing on her ex-husband, her expression screaming now what do you have to say for yourself?
Shaking my head, I leave them to their bickering, realizing… Christ, it’s foreplay? Not wanting to think too hard on that, I join the lunch crowd in the dining room, my eyes finding Oakley.
He’s smiling as he chats with Remi, hands flying along with his spoken words, his leather cowboy hat hanging off the back of his chair.
There’s an overwhelming rush of fondness that floods me as I stare at my friend, this man I’ve known all my life, who’s so much a part of my existence it’s hard to see where he ends and I begin.
Can I imagine spending my life without Oakley?
No. No, I can’t.