Chapter 24
Benson
For the second time in my life, I wake inside a barn with Remi.
I can’t tell what time it is, but Remi is leaning over the eggs. When he notices me stir, he waves me over. “They’re hatching. Look.”
It takes me a second to get my limbs working, but then I’m crawling over to where he’s perched. Two of the twelve eggs have cracks around their middle, and there’s a beak poking out of one. Gentle chirping is accompanying the chicks’ attempts to break free.
“Do we do anything?” I ask.
Remi shakes his head. “No. Helping this early could hurt them. We just have to wait.”
I grab my phone to check the time. It’s just after three in the morning. “Need anything from the house? I have to use the bathroom.”
Remi hesitates for a second before giving me a small smile. “Water, if you don’t mind?”
I plant a kiss in his hair before pushing to my feet. Snickerdoodle has her nose poking above the top of her stall door, the pony clearly curious about the human company at such odd hours. I give her a few pets before shoving into my boots and heading outside.
The ranch is dark, but a lone light illuminates the main house in the distance, and the moonlight is enough to see rises and falls in the ground as I walk.
I use the house key Hank gave me to get inside, relieving myself before grabbing a thermos for water.
After filling that, I peek inside the pantry, deciding to bring some crackers along in case Remi is hungry.
When I get back to the barn, he’s in the same spot I left him. I snag the bottle of hand sanitizer we used last night and join him in the pen. Remi looks grateful for the food and water, inhaling some of both after cleaning his hands. He seems tired, but that’s no surprise.
Remi drops the cracker box when one of the chicks successfully breaks free.
The top half of their egg falls away, leaving a straggly yellow Silkie to stumble from the shell in a flurry of chirps.
It falls onto its breast before righting itself, the color of its damp feathers reminding me of buttercups.
The sigh Remi lets out has me looking his way. “First one,” he practically whispers. “What should we name them?”
“Buttercup,” I suggest, voicing my thought.
Remi’s smile is wide. “Buttercup it is.”
“Will we be able to tell them apart?”
“We’ll use leg bands just in case.” Pushing himself up, Remi disappears for a moment before coming back with a supply of brightly colored circles that remind me of tiny hairbands. “Pick two colors, Papa.”
“Oh, God. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Remi snickers, rubbing my arm. “I’m positive you’ll survive.”
Shaking my head, I pick out two colors as he asked, and Remi makes a note on his phone.
Carefully, he picks up the slowly wandering chick and slips the two bands onto their foot.
Buttercup chirps, wings flapping once they’re on solid ground again.
They immediately fall forward before hunkering down under the heat lamps.
“One chick down, eleven to go,” Remi says, his words tapering into a yawn.
“It’s gonna be a long day, huh?”
He flashes me a smile. “Welcome to ranch life.”
Maybe it’s not glamorous or particularly easy, but I’m finding I like this lifestyle quite a lot.
The quiet energy thrumming through every living creature here.
The care involved, even from the cattle ranchers, to make sure the animals have a good quality of life.
The steady routine mixed with the occasional unknown that keeps each day from blending into the next.
It’s dirty, sometimes loud, and the smells aren’t the freshest. But none of that deters me the way I might have expected it to.
It’s not my chair in the office that squeaked every time I turned. The constant buzz of conversation and the fluorescent lights that gave me a headache by the end of the workday. I don’t feel trapped here the way I did in Utah.
I feel like, with each passing day, I’ve been picking up pieces of myself and slowly fitting them together. All those fragments I left behind, the ones I tried to lose because I knew they made me different… They were waiting to be recognized. To be put back together.
To be loved.
And after four decades of life, I’m ready to do just that.
The chicks are hatched by eleven in the morning.
The very last one is a tiny, dark gray thing Remi lovingly names Pip after the first hole a chick pecks during its hatching process.
Pip’s egg was the first with, well, a pip, even though they were the last to unzip, as the cracking process is called.
Pip barely moved once they were free of their eggshell, but Remi said that isn’t uncommon. All the chicks will stay in the cozy incubator tub as they spend the next day or so drying out and gaining strength. After that, they’ll be allowed to roam the brooding pen.
The twelve new Silkies are a mix of colors, from near white to yellow to gray and black. It’ll be interesting to see how they grow.
Snickerdoodle is the only inhabitant of the petting farm who seems interested in the chicks.
The pony keeps trying to stretch her head high enough to get a glimpse into their pen, and she’s attempted to follow Remi and me inside more than once, her tail flicking in annoyance every time we’ve rebuked her.
It’s nearing the end of the workday now, and I’m not the only one dragging.
“Remi.”
He doesn’t look up at my voice, so I head his way, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He turns, blinking me into focus before lifting his hands. ‘What’d you say?’
I offer him a wan smile. ‘You okay? You look dead on your feet.’
He watches my hands and face before sighing. ‘Tired, yeah. Head hurts. Just need some rest.’
‘Why don’t you go? I can feed the horses.’
He frowns at me. ‘You sure?’
‘I’m guessing you’ll be back out here at some point in the middle of the night to check on the chicks, so yes, I’m sure. Please go get some rest.’
Remi’s fingers drag over my beard before he gives a gentle tug. Chuckling, I lean down to kiss him. Remi’s lips are soft, the touch so gentle, yet it bursts inside my chest like a wild, living thing.
Remi pats over that very spot before stepping back. ‘You get some sleep tonight, too, Ben.’
‘Promise.’
His lips twist playfully. I can tell what’s coming before Remi raises his hands, his expression full of mirth and plain enjoyment at teasing me in a way he knows I’ll love. ‘Good boy.’
With the tiniest smile, Remi backs toward the barn door. He turns before going through, but I don’t miss the slight wince on his face as the sun hits him square on.
Frowning, I pull out my phone to text my brother.
Me: Does Remi still get migraines?
I’m at the stables when his response comes through.
August: Yeah. He’ll generally look like hell for a day or so as he tries to push through it.
Me: I’m guessing that doesn’t work?
August: No. But he’s really stubborn about not taking time off.
I sigh.
Me: What helps?
August: I’d like to point out that you coming to me for advice is a groundbreaking moment for the two of us. I never thought I’d see the day.
Me: You want me to bake a cake to commemorate it?
My brother’s name flashes on my screen as he calls. I answer and tuck the phone against my ear so I can keep working. “Yeah?”
August snorts, likely at my informal greeting. “You know how to bake?”
“Who do you think made your birthday cakes when you were young and Mom was busy with a newborn and the shop?”
He’s quiet for a moment, the satisfying whoosh of grain hitting rubber bowls keeping me company. “I don’t remember.”
“I don’t expect you to. You were tiny. The migraines?”
“You were only a teen,” August points out, not answering my question.
“Yeah?”
“I just… I know that. I always have, but… I don’t think it really hit me until right now. You were in middle school when I was born. High school when I was a toddler. In my head, you were this grown person, but you weren’t, were you? You were just a kid, like me.”
“Everyone is a kid at some point.”
August makes an exasperated sound, although it’s laced with amusement. “Obviously. But Dad left. And then you did. And I always put the two together. But I wasn’t your responsibility. Not the same way I should have been his.”
I shut the top of a grain compartment and lean against the edge of the wooden work surface where the horses’ bowls are waiting.
It takes me a second to speak. “I won’t make excuses, August, or tell you that you shouldn’t have been hurt when I left.
I’m sorry. Sometimes I wonder if I’d stayed, if it would have been better. ”
“But you were drowning,” my brother says emphatically. “And it wasn’t any one person’s fault, but there also wasn’t anyone here equipped to help you. I shouldn’t have taken it personally once I was old enough to understand. And I should have talked to you about it instead of shutting you out.”
I rub my hand up and down my thigh, my throat tight and my very nerves feeling as if they’re shaking. “I don’t know what to say.”
My brother huffs a laugh. “That’s fine. So Remi will need a dark room and lots of rest. Ice packs help. And Ash makes this ginger tea he really likes. He probably won’t eat much until it passes, and he’ll keep his CI off for a few days as he recuperates.”
I tap my fingers against my jeans. “He ate a bunch of crackers earlier. And a big lunch.”
“That tracks. If he feels the migraine coming on, he preloads. Once it hits, he won’t want food. Is there a reason you’re asking me all this and not Remi himself?”
“I wasn’t sure if it was anything. We had a long night, and he already left to catch up on his rest.”
“Ahh. TMI, my dude.”
“No, it was the chicks.” My cheeks flush as I remember what Remi and I were doing before they hatched. “Mostly.”
“See, it’s that mostly that concerns me.”
“You want to see a picture? Of the chick you get to name?”
“Oh good God,” August breathes, sounding winded. “For a second, I thought I’d have to block your number. Yeah, send me a pic of the little bugger. And go help Remi. He’s the nurturing type. His first thought is generally what he can do for others. Not what they can do for him.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” After a second, I add, “August? Thanks for your help.”
There’s a smile in his voice when he answers with, “I like red velvet cake.”
I chuckle as my brother ends the call.
The horses greet me with enthusiasm as I bring their evening meals to their stalls. Shorty, a particularly large gelding, flicks his tail happily as I set his bowl on the ground. I give his neck some scritches before checking his water and hay and moving on to the next horse.
Before calling it a day, I stop back at the petting farm. The chicks seem to be doing all right, huddled up together, their feathers already looking fluffier now that they’re drying. I top off their water and send my brother the picture I promised.
As I’m stepping out of the barn, I notice a flash of pink by the fence line outside the petting farm. The shooting stars are nearly hidden by the grasses growing tall, but I pluck one of the flowers free and bring it with me toward the ranch house.
The dinner hour is finishing up when I arrive.
I pass by the folks leaving, Marigold giving me a smile when we cross paths in the hall.
My socks are quiet on the stairs, not that it’d matter.
Remi already had his CI off before he came back here.
I’m sure with his migraine approaching, he hasn’t turned it back on.
His door is cracked open when I stop in front of it. I push it an inch wider to find Remi curled atop his bed, his hair wet but the man clearly fast asleep. As carefully as I can, I close his drapes, set the flower on his nightstand, and head back downstairs.
As I’d hoped, I run into Jackson still inside the house. He seems to realize I’m looking for him because he steps my way the moment he notices me. “Evening, Benson.”
“Hey, Jackson. What do y’all do when Remi can’t work?”
His eyebrow pops up, the two of us moving out of the way of the people passing in the hall. “Well… Now we have you. Before that, we’d call in one of the weekend crew or someone from the family would cover his duties. Why do you ask?”
“I suspect Remi is on his way to having a migraine. I’m happy to work tomorrow. I just…”
“I get it,” Jackson says, wearing a tiny smile I’m surprised to see. I wasn’t sure he’d appreciate me asking for time off alongside Remi. “I’ll see who’s available tomorrow. We’ll work something out if Remi is under the weather.”
“Thanks, Jackson.” Before he can step away, I bring up something else. “By the way… I saw you on your laptop today after lunch. I don’t mean this in any way as a criticism of your capabilities, but if you want someone to handle the books for you, I can.”
He blinks at me, seeming to take a second to catch up. “You’re truly offering? I didn’t wanna ask, but Lord I hate it.”
“I could tell,” I say with a chuckle. The man was grumbling at his spreadsheets like they personally offended him. “It’s no problem. I can do it.”
“Christ, Benson. Thank you. I’ll pay you, of course.”
“Sure. And thanks for understanding about…” I wave my hand up toward the second story, hoping he understands.
He nods, a slow movement. “You know, Remi once told me he doesn’t need a partner to be happy in life. And I believe him. My brother has always had this way of making his own happiness.”
My throat clamps tight as Jackson pins me with sharp blue eyes. The sigh he lets out is gentle.
“But here’s the thing. I’m not sure he expected to find someone who could fit with him here. Need and want aren’t the same. And if I could wish anything for my baby brother, it’s that he gets whatever he wants in this lifetime.”
I stare at Jackson’s shoulder as I clear my throat. “That doesn’t sound like a threat.”
He barks a laugh that seems to take even him by surprise. “It wasn’t supposed to be. Have you been waiting for the shovel talk?”
“Little bit,” I admit.
“I don’t think you’ll get that here. You know, it’s almost warm enough for bonfires again. You’ll come to the next one?”
“I… Yeah. Okay.”
Jackson hums. “All right, then.”
As he turns to head off, I notice Ash standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
He gives me a knowing smile before intercepting Jackson, his fingers slipping through the rancher’s belt loops to tug him close.
I try to pretend I don’t see the start of their kiss, but neither man is paying me any attention anyways.
I make a quick plan in my head as I shove my feet back into my boots. There are a few things I need to grab before Remi wakes up.
And then? I want to make sure he knows I’m here for him.
The same way he always is for me.