28. Katie
KATIE
M y stomach does this stupid little flip as I glance up at him. Him affirming that he actually does want me to sit with him is more than I could've imagined he'd say this early in our relationship. It gives me a warmth I never had, makes me feel like I'm part of a family, and although I had that at home with my parents and my siblings, I never felt as if I had it. I knew there was something bigger for me than what was happening in the home I grew up in; I just didn't know what it was. Turns out it's being the wife of a man I effectively knew nothing about. However, I'm beginning to realize he might just be everything I've needed.
"Let's head on out," Trace says as he moves to throw away a trash bag. "If we don't leave now we're never going to get back."
I watch as he takes the bag over to a trash can and turns back to the truck. He comes toward me, before opening the door and nodding his head toward the empty seat. "Need help getting up there?"
"Wouldn't say no to it," I flirt with him, lowering my eyes to his lips.
He's wearing a baseball cap, that's shielding his eyes. It blocks the two of us when he bends down and gives me a peck on the lips. "Let's go." He reaches down, hooking his hands around my waist, lifting me up onto the seat. Putting his foot on the running board, he pushes up so that he's even with me. Reaching around, he grabs the seatbelt and pulls it across my chest, buckling it carefully. He drops another kiss to my forehead, before dropping down onto the ground and shutting my door.
I wish I didn't get excited about this, wish he didn't make my heart beat faster, and hope that whatever we're doing right now will last forever. My eyes follow him as he walks around the front of the truck and heads to the driver's seat. Immediately my gaze goes down to his ass, encased by the tight jeans he's wearing. It looks like it's going to rip out, he's worn them so much. There's something comforting about that. This man who I was worried about feels more steady than anything else I've ever had before.
Kyle gets into the back seat at the same time that Trace gets into the driver's seat. "Don't wreck, fucker," Kyle teases as we make a twenty-point turn in the front yard to get out and head toward the main road.
"I didn't, now did I? Unlike other people in the truck who ran into the bucket of the tractor the other day when he tried to turn around."
"I thought we weren't keeping track," Kyle argues, kicking at the back seat.
"We're not, but then you had to make fun of me."
"I wasn't making fun, I was heckling. There's a huge difference."
A giggle works its way out of my throat. "Oh you think that's funny?" Trace reaches over, grabbing my side. It makes me laugh harder. "He's being a dick to your husband and you think that's funny?"
"Nobody ever gives you a hard time, that I've seen. Not in a joking way, anyway, and it's good to see you tease someone. Makes me think you don't take everything so seriously."
"Oh he does," Kyle intervenes. "He doesn't have a silly bone in his body. Everything he does he takes seriously."
Glancing over at my husband, I think about what Kyle has said. He does seem to take most everything as if it's a life and death situation. Maybe that's because of how he was raised, or the kind of adulthood he's had. Maybe it's because he's having to be the responsible one now. Whatever it is, I promise to myself I'm going to be the one who dulls him again. In the short time I've been with him, all I've seen is the hurt he felt over Ward's death, and then the stress of trying to live up to his parents expectations of what he should be. I make a promise to myself and any other deity who will listen that this man will learn to smile. He will learn to laugh, and together we'll make a life that others are jealous of. "That's okay," I reach over, grabbing Trace's hand. "I'll teach him that everything doesn't have to be so momentous."
"Good luck with that, Katie. The man sitting in the seat next to you hasn't ever had anything go as planned."
Trace makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Ain't that the damn truth?"
I wanna ask a ton of questions, figure out who the fuck doesn't love him the way they should. At the same time, I know the people who don't love him the way they should are his parents. The two people who should care about him no matter what, the two who should make their lives about what he needs. He's doing all of this to ensure not only a better life for us, but a better life for him. From everything I've seen though, I don't think it'll matter to either of them. It'll be up to me to show this man how much he means to everything he touches.
The two of them are talking about the breeding program, so I spend the drive looking out the window. My mind is going back to what we did last night, wondering if we'll end up having a child. One we can raise right, one that won't have to worry if we love it or not. I know the two of us will be better parents than the examples we had.
"You okay?" He asks, nodding his head toward my hand.
I'm not even aware I have it resting on my flat stomach, that I'm willing his seed to take root and provide us with the one thing everyone expects of us. Once we do that, once we have the next child who will be the heir to all of this, they won't be able to mess with us anymore. We'll be calling the shots, and together we'll make a change.
That's what I keep telling myself anyway.
"I'm good. Are you?"
"Perfect," he answers.
We pull into Azure Ridge. A mile up the road I can see the sign for the feed store. "Is that where we're headed?"
"Sutton's Feed and Seed," both of them say with sing songy voices.
Kyle keeps talking. "It's where we used to get energy drinks and chocolate bars, where we'd go hang out when our dads were in town to get feed."
"Believe it or not, it's where we met," Trace continues. "We were what, five?"
"Six," Kyle corrects him. "At the time I was in my country music era where I wore a cowboy hat with a feather."
"Oh please tell me there's pictures of that somewhere," I laugh, imagining him as a little kid wearing a ten gallon bucket hat with a feather hanging out the top.
"I'm sure there is, but I won't be sharing it with you. Not unless Trace shares some of his embarrassing pictures. He had braces in junior high."
"Did you?"
"I did, and I was scared to death to kiss Bobbie Jo Phelps because she had braces too and I'd been told our braces would get stuck together."
I snort-laugh. "You believed that?"
"Hard not to when it's constantly drilled into your brain," he defends. "And I was gullible. What can I say?"
"You can say you were just too scared to kiss her..." I let my words trail off. "Because that's what it sounds like to me."
Kyle cracks up. "She's got your number, bro. You were scared, you gotta admit. We both were."
"I don't have to admit shit. All I have to do is go in there and get my damn feed order." He parks, shuts the truck off, and then looks at both of us. "Y'all coming or what?"
We scramble to catch up with him as he gets out and his long legs take him further away from us.