Page 45 of Family Affair

He remembered a club on the outskirts of Lexington. He remembered drinking straight whiskey like a pro and polishing it off with beer. He remembered some girls cheering him on and the bouncers giving him a hairy eyeball. Then he checked out.

…hot, he was hot and sweaty, restless, bothered… Darkness enveloped his body, pressed down like a living thing. His breaths were coming in short gasps and his balls were getting tighter with each pump of his hips into the girl beneath him.

Whoa!

What the… fuck? Wait… What?!

His jaw went slack and his eyes just about fell out of his head, yet he didn't dare breaking the rhythm and ruining the most vivid erotic dream of his life. He looked down to see the rosy tipped breasts that bounced with each strong push, felt the wet glide of his penis between her legs, the slap of skin on skin as he went all the way in.

She moaned and arched off the bed all but thrusting those breastsintohis face. He caught one tip with his lips, tasting the salt of her skin, and came in a hot rush, grinding into her with more vigor than necessary.

Sweaty, exhausted, head spinning from the alcohol still rattling around in his system, he dropped on top of her. She hadn't seemed to mind.

"You make me so hot," she murmured with a marked absence of Georgia accent, and he gloried in the sound of her voice.

Two days later, he called Cade from someone else’s phone.

"Hey, it's me."

"Where the hell are you? Dad's going berserk and Mother is beyond herself with worry. Ward calls me every day. Christ, you got everyone frantic. And did I mention you’re an idiot?"

If Cade’s goal was to send him on a guilt trip, he succeeded, but only for a moment.

Frank made his tone businesslike. After all, he was on his own now. A grown man.

"Listen, I'm in Kentucky, just north of the state border. I wanna stop by, to see you and shit, but I don't want anyone else in on that. Can you meet me up?"

Cade expelled a long-suffering sigh. The bastard didn’t have to act like he was forty-seven instead of barely eighteen.

"Sure. Drive up to the back of the barn. You can spend the night here."

"Fucking perfect. Bring some booze. And food - I'm starving."

The decision to stop by the farm came with a huge risk of exposure, Frank got that, but he had to say that last goodbye to his brother face to face. Some things were simply too important to ignore.

He took back roads to the farm and arrived from the wooded valley where Cade had advised a fence was broken, driving straight on the grass with his lights out.

He parked behind the barn and got out. The clear night was replete with the country summer. The mingled smells of dewy grass and manure, the non-stop chirping of crickets, occasional snorts of corralled horses, the light of the half moon - everything stood in detail so sharp they were painful for Frank to absorb at once. He closed his eyes and breathed the warm air.

The old door squeaked, and Cade’s voice said, “Here’s your dinner, if you’re done meditating.”

Frank’s eyes snapped open and found Cade standing a few feet away. His brother. So very similar, a part of him despite their recent repeated clashes over… just about everything.

His expression sour, Cade extended a plastic container toward him with one hand. His other hand held an opened bottle of whiskey.

Frank took the container. “You got a fork?”

“What is this, a restaurant? Eat with your hands.”

“It’s stew.”

Cade shrugged. “Then drink it. You can’t be choosy. You’re an outlaw, remember? On the run?” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink.

“Asshole.” Frank dipped a finger into the cold stew and moved it around. Locating a large chunk of potato, he gingerly lifted it out and popped in his mouth. “It’s good. You made it?” He winked at his brother.

Cade, who was watching him intently, scoffed. “Right. That’s what I do here, perfect my stews.”

“For all I know.”