Chapter Four
Mickey
I shoved my feet into my workboots and strode out into the night.
It hadn’t happened around here before, but stock poachers were a thing. From the various farmer forums I was on, I knew it wasn’t something to take lying down. Just because it had never happened to me didn’t mean it never could.
If someone was snooping around I wanted them to know I was dangerous and not someone to be messed with.
The alpacas were awake. Someone or something had woken them.
“Private property!” I shouted a few times. No response.
Hayes’s guard donkey brayed, which could mean there was someone about, or he could just be responding to me calling out.
Inconclusive.
Opie was a good noisemaker though. His braying carried for ages on a still night. Hopefully between the two of us, whoever it was had been scared off.
The moon was full and visibility was good, but I couldn’t see anything but the odd firefly and my alpacas.
Whoever had been here, they were gone now.
I did a circuit of the farm anyway.
The usual night beasties dove under cover at my approach, the crickets quietening and then getting back to full volume as I walked past.
I returned to the farmhouse.
Aster was in the doorway, wearing a Sacramento University T-shirt and flannel shorts. He looked pale in the moonlight, frightened. I averted my eyes from the roundness of his chest, knowing that wasn’t a part of the real him.
“Anything?” he asked, pitching his voice deliberately lower to sound braver.
“Couldn’t see a thing, the herd was disturbed though. I think you did see someone, but they took off.”
Aster nodded and stepped back to let me into the house. His arms wrapped around himself and he looked out the kitchen window, like he was expecting someone to appear there.
He was terrified.
“Come on.” I pulled my boots off. “It’s over now, whatever it was.”
I pulled the door shut and flicked the lock, mostly for Aster’s peace of mind.
“Sure,” Aster said.
We went back upstairs together.
Aster kept glancing over his shoulder and he jumped when one of the steps creaked. What he’d seen had truly spooked him.
I knew it was a bad idea but I couldn’t stop myself from offering. “Why don’t you sleep in with me for the rest of the night? It’s a king-sized bed, it’s not... I don’t mean anything by it. I just want you to feel safe.”
Aster looked at me with wide eyes. “Really? Yeah, um, if you don’t mind, that’d be great.”
I hopped into bed and patted the other side. I didn’t want to make a big deal in case it made it even more awkward.
Aster climbed in, careful to stay on his side of the bed and not touch me.
It was sweet.
He rolled to his side, facing away. “Thanks, Mick,” he said softly. “I promise I’m not this much of a baby. It’s just so quiet out here, it really shocked me to see a person.”
“I get it,” I said. “Night night.”
I turned so my back was to his and closed my eyes, willing sleep to come.
Only, getting to sleep when your entire body is alert to a hot guy in bed with you is not easy at all.
Unbidden, Pete’s voice sounded in my head. “Just something wrong with you, Mickey. You’re frigid or something. I don’t get it, and it doesn’t feel like you do either. There’s no way this can work.”
It was the worst reminder, but at least it helped me to relax about Aster’s proximity.
He didn’t want me, and I shouldn’t want him, and that was that.
To soothe myself, I ran myself through the morning routine and what needed to be done.
Count the alpacas for sure.... And then what?
Aster
I pretended to sleep.
I closed my eyes and willed my breathing to slow.
Mickey started... not snoring exactly, but making a soft snuffling noise on the inhale. It was incredibly cute.
This actually relaxed me which seemed weird, but whatever, I would take any win I could after seeing a shadowy figure outside the farmhouse.
I shuffled slightly closer to him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the gentle heat radiating off his body.
It wasn’t a cold night, but the shock made me shiver. Feeling Mickey’s warmth there, his steadiness, his... it was like his presence had a weight.
This is something I’ve struggled with as a trans guy. I feel like at any moment I could float away...
Any time someone misgenders me, or calls me by my old name, or lumps me into the ‘trans twink bottom’ category without any effort to get to know me... I feel untethered. Ready to disappear into nothingness.
Mickey knew exactly who he was, and everyone around him knew who he was, too.
He was rooted to the earth like a sturdy tree.
I wanted that.
Wanted to be like that.
Wanted to cling to him and let his steadiness calm my swirling thoughts and embrace my truest self.
But he was Harlow’s older brother. He’d always see me as his kid sister’s best friend.
That had to be why he was so comfortable inviting me into his bed like this. In his mind, there was no change of anything happening.
The age gap was too vast. I had to let the crush go, for fuck’s sake.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to empty my mind.
Not necessarily an easy thing for an anxious autistic but hey, that never stopped me trying before.
I thought of my favorite of Tane’s songs and played it inside my head, letting his sweet voice lull me until I finally sank back into sleep.
When I woke up Mickey was already gone, probably doing the early morning farm stuff that had to happen every day.
I stretched, valiantly resisted leaning in to smell his pillow, and took myself right back to my room. I showered and dressed, ready for a new day.
Mickey was just coming back in as I came downstairs.
“I don’t know what you usually do for breakfast,” he said. “Maybe we should do a supply run, later? But for now, there’s bread for toast, homemade granola and oats if you want oatmeal.”
“Granola?” I helped myself to a bowl from the cabinet.
“Mmhm.” He handed me a tall Tupperware of homemade cereal. “I make it every month. Much nicer than the bought stuff and this way I can change up the flavors. This month I focused on dried apricots and ancient grains.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Fancy as hell, dude.”
Mickey chuckled and nodded at the pitcher of milk he had out. “See what you think before you make judgement.”
He made himself a bowl as well and we settled at the table, together with glasses of orange juice.
“So, what was that last night?”
Mickey shook his head. “Could have been someone from the artist’s retreat getting lost.” He licked his lips. “Or they lost another reptile from the sanctuary, I should call them and check on that.”
I shuddered at the thought of an escaped crocodile. I had no idea what reptiles they had at the sanctuary, but how ironic would it be to move to a farm and get eaten by a crocodile?
“Yeah, maybe you should.”
Mickey nodded and tapped his phone, presumably sending a message to the guys who ran the sanctuary.
I cleared my throat. “So, I want to cook something for you tonight. I’ll head into town if you don’t mind me using your truck? Then you can get on with whatever you need to do.”
“Don’t mind at all,” Mickey said. “I want to take a better look around the lanes and paths, see if there’s any tracks out there.”
The more we talked, the more at home I felt.
Mickey’s phone dinged. “Comfirmed nothing escaped from the reptile sanctuary. And they don’t have crocodiles.”
“Good.” I nodded. “Is there anything you need at the grocers?”
“Let’s see.” Mickey stood up to check the pad of paper magneted to the fridge, his own little shopping list.
Something warm fluttered in my chest and I focused on my granola. I wasn’t a teenager any more, I had a freaking college degree.
So why was I still crushing like a teenager?