Chapter 20
The next morning starts with a new lesson for me: apparently, I’m allergic to cats.
“How did you not know this about yourself?” Linden asks as he administers drops to my swollen eyes. Linden’s mom—whom I’m supposed to call Kelly—found them in the back of the bathroom cabinets. One of her sons-in-law, the accountant, of course, suffers from hay fever, so she keeps them around.
“Or is this why you stayed away from the kittens? You know you could have said so!”
“No, I just never had a cat,” I tell him, swatting his hands away as he tries to press a wet cloth to my face. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe you should go see a doctor,” Linden suggests. Across the breakfast table, his dad snorts. I don’t know when this man slept because by the time we rolled out of bed, he was already back in the barn.
“It’s not funny, Dad. He could have an allergic reaction!”
“He’s already having an allergic reaction,” Linden’s sister—Aspen or Hazel or Margaret, I can’t keep them apart through my swollen eyes—points out.
“You know what I mean!” Linden snaps at her.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” I blindly reach for his hand, satisfied when I feel his bony wrist under my touch. It’s so delicate that my fingers wrap around it easily.
“I’ll just have to get used to it.”
“You can’t get used to an allergy.” Linden sighs, but he also squeezes my hand before taking a chair to my right.
“Sure you can!” I argue before he has the chance to bring up a doctor again. “As a kid, I used to be allergic to eggs, but my dad still gave them to me in small amounts. And then I outgrew it!”
Around me, the conversation dies down. I squirm in my chair when I can feel all eyes settle on me.
“Your father gave you eggs knowing you were allergic to them?”
I suck in a deep breath at Aspen’s words—it must be Aspen because I can make out the toddler she’s holding in her arms. Phrased like this, it sounds like my father tried to kill me.
“In small doses. He read about desensitization therapy online. And hey, it worked! I’m still alive, and I can eat eggs now,” I explain, trying to salvage the mood.
“Allergic to cats, allergic to eggs, I don’t know if this one will survive his visit,” Brandon grumbles from the other side of the table, and my cheeks flush.
“I’ll be fine,” I insist quickly. I came here to help, not to add another worry onto their shoulders.
“I’m sure you’ll be, honey,” Kelly reassures me as she leans forward to put a cup in front of me. The warmth spreads from my cheeks to my ears and down my neck. I lean forward to wrap my hands around the hot porcelain.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I inhale the rich scent of fresh coffee.
“Desensitization works through immunotherapy, not by cuddling the cause of your allergic reaction,” Linden explains. He leans over to add a splash of milk to my cup, his fingers brushing mine while he holds it in place. The contact is brief, yet I wonder if his family noticed.
“And since I doubt you’ll outgrow anything else by this age and height,” he continues, and I huff when I can all but hear the cheeky smile in his voice, “this little menace needs to keep some distance!”
An unhappy meow rings out from under the table as Linden grabs the orange cat and carries it out of the kitchen, followed by his family's laughter. I carefully raise the cup to my lips, smiling when it has just the right amount of milk for my taste.
“I think we should name him Owen,” I tell Linden as we march out to the cherry orchard, each carrying a big basket filled with sandwiches and cut fruit.
Linden spent the whole morning explaining the ins and outs of farm life to me—from the milking machine to the egg hunt in the chicken coop, while I pressed a wet washcloth to my puffy eyes.
They’re currently hidden behind a pair of shades, feeling significantly less itchy.
“Why? Because he’s clingy and toxic?” Linden groans and gives the cat a dirty look. He’s made it his mission to keep him away from me, which only seems to make the nameless furball more intent on following us around.
“Owen isn’t toxic,” I protest. “He’s just trying to keep his loved ones safe, which Noah makes very difficult with his dumb life choices.”
“Mhmm, in very controversial ways.” Linden stops in the shade of a beech to wipe his forehead with the hem of his shirt.
I use that moment to roll my shoulders, my eyes trailing to the sliver of exposed skin between the waistband of Linden’s boxers and the lifted shirt.
For a moment, I fantasize about repaying him for that blowjob.
Right here, in the shade of the tree. We’re so far away from the farmhouse that it only appears as a small white dot on the horizon. No one would see.
It would be fitting, too—there’s a similar scene in Keeping Noah.
With everything going on the last few days, we didn’t manage to sneak in any additional “study sessions”.
I’m worried that the more time passes, the more I’ll overthink my next steps.
Jerking us off in the back of Linden’s truck felt good, almost natural, something I’ve done countless times, albeit by myself.
But taking another guy’s dick in my mouth—that’ll be new.
“Hey, earth to Micah—are you still with me?” Linden waves a half-empty water bottle at me, his head cocked to the side in a silent question.
“Sorry, I zoned out a bit.” I laugh, my voice coming out a little too high. I grab the bottle and empty the rest of the water in one go.
“Oh yeah? Still thinking about Owen?” he asks, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, darting a glance left and right. Other than Owen—the cat, not the fictional SEAL from our sexual learning manual—who’s currently busy cleaning his private parts a few feet away, we’re still alone.
I step closer under the pretense of putting the empty bottle back into Linden’s basket, then place my hand on his chest, gently pushing him backward against the tree trunk.
“Thinking about that blowjob you gave me and how I could return that favor,” I murmur.
Linden's eyes widen, black pupils, claiming the gray of his irises. There's no trace left of the smirk he sported a few seconds ago. Instead, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and my gaze tracks the movement. I immediately think back to how it circled the head of my erection, then lapped over it in long strokes. I could feel his insecurity, but also his eagerness—like he didn’t just want to pleasure me. Instead, it turned him on so much that he came in his fucking trunks. I still can’t get over that fact; it haunts me in the most exciting way, paired with the thrill the possibility of discovery gave me.
It’s also rushing through my veins right now.
Sweet.
Addictive.
And completely stupid.
“So you're still sure that's something you’d want?” he asks, his voice half an octave deeper than usual.
“Yes. I mean, it’s probably something M—mmmh,” I break off when I almost let Mike’s name slip. Clearing my throat, I fumble for a moment. “It’s probably something they expect from me? You know, Mia and…the other guy.”
“Right, the mysterious other guy,” Linden repeats. There’s a glint in his eyes I can’t really place. Annoyance, maybe? It’s gone as soon as he blinks, leaving me confused.
“It wouldn’t be right to out him against his will,” I remind Linden, who shakes his head at my words.
“No, it’s not that. I just forgot for a moment that you aren’t a voluntary participant in all of this.” His voice is nonchalant, like he’s merely talking about the beautiful weather, but his eyes dart away from mine, fixating on a spot somewhere above my shoulder.
“Not a—hey, no, that’s not true!” I grab his hand and squeeze it gently.
“No one made me agree to this. I just thought…I thought it was something you’d want to experience.
” I fumble over my words, scrunching up my nose when they still come out wrong.
Instead of trying again, I reach for Linden’s chin, forcing him to look at me.
For a moment, neither of us says anything, then he lets out a soft sigh.
“Sorry for being annoying about this,” he murmurs, his fingers squeezing mine in return. “I just don’t want you to do something you won’t enjoy.”
“Can’t say I won’t enjoy it before I’ve tried it,” I point out, a grin spreading on my lips. “But after seeing you come in your pants from blowing me, I’m pretty excited to try it.”
Linden groans, his free hand swatting my shoulder. “You won’t ever let me forget that, huh?”
I laugh, happily shaking my head. “Nope. And why would I? You looked so hot with your tousled hair and flushed cheeks. Part of me wanted to stick my hand down your trunks right then and there and get proof that you—mmh!” I huff when Linden clamps a hand over my mouth, smothering the rest of my voice.
“Hush! Or you’ll get a repeat of that, and I really don’t want to work all day with cum in my pants!
” he hisses, and I chuckle from behind his palm, then raise both arms to signal surrender.
He still keeps his hand in place for a moment longer, gray eyes narrowed at me, his cheeks glowing in a delicious shade of pink.
“You’re cute when you’re so rattled,” I let him know once I’m free to speak again.
Linden huffs, picking up his basket. “Whatever you say, ogre. Now let’s go; we have a lunch pack to deliver. And those cherries won’t pick themselves!”
I hum obediently, picking up my own basket. “Fine. But just know that I have big plans for tonight.”
“Fuck my life; everything hurts!” I groan when I flop onto Linden’s mattress, arms and legs sprawled out in every direction.
I’m not new to physical labor, but carefully picking those tiny cherries while balancing on a ladder in the sun must have used some secret muscles I didn’t know existed until now.