4. Warren
How many missed calls do I have from my brother?
I told him I didn’t want to do an auction, and he did it anyway, since Clarence didn’t have the guts to cast a deciding vote. I’m a farm boy. I know this is how beef farmers and pork producers and everyone else make money. I eat meat. It’s not that.
My hand strokes the floppy ears of my bunny, Nibbles. It just makes me sad. The shitty memories attached to auctions are too much for me to get past.
A knock sounds at my bedroom door, interrupting my thoughts. “Come in.”
Dad peeks his head in, no doubt searching for rabbits, before stepping in and closing the door behind him. He immediately sits on the floor across from me. He taps his fingers on the floor, and my other rabbit, Hops, comes to him.
“You haven’t come downstairs all afternoon.” Dad lifts Hops onto his lap. “Want to talk about it?”
Nibbles notices my dad and jumps from my lap to see him. I draw my knees up as I watch my rabbits love on my dad. For a stern father figure, he sure has a soft spot for all the cute animals.
“Remember that night at 4H when you brought me home the first time after I had a meltdown?”
“I’ll never forget it,” Dad says softly as he scratches Nibble’s ears. He has that same look on his face now as he did then. Confident that he can fix the issue even if it scares the crap out of him.
“Jesse went ahead with the auction.”
Dad nods because he knows this already. “It’s business, son. Jesse wants to help the cattle farmers in the area. He didn’t do this to hurt you.”
Logically, I know that. Jesse would never purposely hurt me. He’s not like that. But he also knows how much livestock auctions can upset me. I didn’t want to be a part of it.
“We’re supposed to work together, Dad. You said the three of us need to work together.
Clarence can’t be bothered most of the time, and he didn’t want to be the deciding vote!
” My voice rises and Hops tears across the room.
Dammit. “Jesse shouldn’t have done it if we didn’t have a vote,” I say, softer this time, and tap for Hops to come back.
“Jesse is thinking without emotion, Warren. You need to do that as well. I know it upsets you, but you could’ve just told him to do it and not expect you to help.
He wouldn’t have been scrambling at the last minute if you were just honest. You can’t always take things to heart.
” Dad clears his throat. “It’s okay to still be sensitive about it, but we’re close to it, you know?
With 4H and the rodeo…auctions aren’t going away. ”
He’s speaking reasonably and trying to understand. I know this. It’s how he always is, and he’s the best. But right now, I’m angry and very unreasonable.
“Is that how you do it, then? We’re all in a box of some kind? Warren is too soft, so he needs special treatment. Jesse can give me grandkids so he can do what he wants, and Clarence is so smart he can have whatever he wants, too. I’m the only one in this family who seems to have issues.”
Dad sucks in a sharp breath.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s fucking true, Dad. Don’t deny it. I’m a lot of work, and now my brother doesn’t even want to deal with me.” Standing, I scoop Hops up and put her in the bunny pen before returning to snatch Nibbles from my dad’s lap. “I’m going out.”
“Warren—”
“I know you love me. I know, okay? Just…” I let it trail off because what else can I say that he doesn’t already know?
“I love you.”
My lips twitch into a smile. He literally can’t help himself saying those words.
“I love you too, Dad. I’ll be home later.”
After dropping Nibbles in the bunny pen, I make sure I have my wallet, phone, and keys before bolting down the stairs.
Pops looks up from the couch where he works on a crossword, but remains quiet.
He always knows when to talk, and now isn’t the time.
He pats the area over his heart and I return the gesture.
Once I’m in my truck, I drive the back roads into town. The longer route gives me time to get my spiralling thoughts under control. So many have reared up these past weeks.
I’m a failure.
That’s the predominant theme. Kind of hard to ignore it.
I’m thirty years old and still live with my parents.
Not because I can’t afford it. That’s actually the only thing going for me.
I have a decent income from the rodeo school and my rodeo winnings.
Yes, we’re a wealthy family, but I can get by without that.
That’s where the list of positives ends, unless you count my two awesome pet rabbits. Which I do.
A thirty-year-old man who lives with his parents, owns rabbits, and still can’t win a rodeo championship even when his biggest rival disappears. I bark a dry laugh into the truck cab. Yeah, the lineup doesn’t stretch around the block for a piece of me, that’s for sure.
The farms roll past me in the darkness, but I know every twist and hill in the road. The Simmonds dairy farm. The Angus breeder and the bizarre dude who dresses his chickens up on holidays to drive around town with. If you’ve never seen a chicken dressed as a leprechaun, you’re missing out.
When my truck stops in the parking lot of The Trough, the best bar in the area, with the chance of finding someone to take home, I shake my head. I won’t be going home with anyone, but I’ll go through the motions. Just like I always do because I’m hung up on the one man I shouldn’t want.
After sliding onto a barstool, I motion to the bartender.
“What can I get ya?”
“Rye and ginger, please.”
Country music plays, and when I survey the room, people are arranging on the stage for live music. Small groups sit at tables or lean at higher tables while stools along the bar remain mostly empty. I’ll just have a drink, get all my self-deprecating thoughts out, and call my brother to apologize.
Then I’ll go home alone and be back to normal in the morning. All these weird feelings will get pushed aside again, and I’ll be myself. I’m a seasoned veteran with this routine.
“You want to start a tab?” The bartender asks when he sets my drink down.
“No, I’ll pay as I go, if you don’t mind.” He nods and takes the bill I hand him. I don’t want to be waiting for a tab to settle when I finally shake this mood.
My gaze turns to the dance floor and the clusters of people.
A man who gave me his number once nods when our eyes meet, and I look away quickly.
I should just drink this, grab a bag of cheesies at the corner gas and go home.
Why I constantly come here hoping for something else is yet another issue I should examine when I’m brave enough.
Today isn’t the day, though.
A body sits next to me, and a deep voice I recognize from the past orders a glass of draft. My heart slams against my ribs. It can’t be him.
Turning slightly, the sharp jaw and dark, messy hair register, but when he turns his head and those ocean-blue eyes land on me, it’s confirmed.
“What rock did you crawl out from?” I spit, and he raises an eyebrow.
“Wow. Nice to see you too…Burke.”
When I don’t reply, he takes a moment to drink from his glass. His tongue licks the foam from his top lip, and a distinct heat kicks up in my gut.
“Wish I could say the same…Walker.”
He laughs and swivels on his stool to face me, but I stare straight ahead.
“The amazing Warren Burke, sitting alone in a bar. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re here looking for a good time.” He leans in closer, and I smell the beer on his breath. “If you want, I can reel in two and give you one. You know, my second choice since you like being second.”
“Fuck you, Walker.”
I slam the rest of my drink and leave the glass on the bar.
“Leaving so soon? But I just got here.”
“I’m not feeling well. Must be something in the air.”
I stalk out of the bar, far too pissed off to process seeing him again. Dane Walker is an asshole, and I certainly hope he’s not here to get back on the circuit. I might retire if I have to deal with his bullshit again.
No, I won’t admit there was a part of me that looked forward to seeing his name on the program at rodeos. Or that there’s more than just rage at seeing him again.
Slamming my truck door closed, I start the engine to have an immediate warning message on my dash that I have a tire with low air. Fuming, I stalk around to the passenger side, and it’s not just low. It’s flatter than a squirrel on the highway who couldn’t make a decision.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter. I should have just stayed home.
After dragging out the wrench, jack, and spare tire, I lower myself to the ground. It’s just one more thing on this otherwise shitty day. It’s too much, and while I can change a tire, I simply don’t have it in me.
The lug wrench slips from my hands and I hang my head. Feet crunch on the gravel lot, and that voice again breaks the stillness of the night.
“Bad place to find you on your knees, Burke.”
“Leave me alone, Walker.”
Of course, he comes closer, and his boots are now in my vision. He says nothing. Instead, he simply lifts the lug wrench and loosens the nuts before shoving the jack under my truck and raising it.
“You don’t have to do this,” I finally manage. “I don’t need your help.”
He continues like he didn’t hear me and lets the bolts drop to the ground while he muscles off my flat tire.
“You’re right,” he grunts as the tire comes off and he hefts it into the bed of my truck.
“I don’t need to.” He slides the spare on and replaces the bolts.
I watch his fingers as he threads the bolts on, fascinated that someone I hate can be so good at everything.
Even replacing my tire bolts looks smooth and easy.
And I let him just muscle his way into helping me. I’m sitting on my ass in the parking lot watching him.
“Why is everything so easy with you?”
He pauses his tightening, but doesn’t look at me. “You have no idea what I deal with, so shut your mouth.”