Page 2 of His Country
He never made Aiden feel stupid. He never made him feel less. Billy was the brother Aiden didn’t expect. For the first time in a long time, the tightness in his chest lessened.
The night before they started their senior year Billy told Aiden he liked boys. Without a trace of shame, he watched Aidenover a glass of off brand cola that always tasted flat. His lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Clenching his glass, Aiden stared back with the same face he wore when the boys in the locker room talked about curves and long hair. “None of my business.”
Billy held his gaze for a long moment before relaxing. Lapsing back into whatever chatter he insisted on filling the silences with.
Aiden’s chest tightened again.
And the next evening, on the first bonfire of the school year, over warm beer and the smell of burning gasoline some kid tossed onto the fire, Everett Reid locked eyes with Billy Whitlock. Aiden watched as those blue eyes burned in a way he had never seen before. Everett dropped his red solo cup, ignoring the way the beer splashed up his ankles as he crossed the field to Billy.
Head cocked, smile wide, Billy greeted him. Not a trace of a lie on his face.
Everett looked at Billy like he was something. Not the sun. The sun burns. Destroys crops and scalds the grass, chews up hay harvests and makes sweat drip into your eyes. No, Everett looked at Billy like he was the first rain of the season. Anticipation thrumming in the air with each life-giving drop of a storm. Water that ran in rivulets over the hard earth, seeping into the dirt and bringing life to what was once dead. Music on a tin roof and promise in the air. Another season. Hope.
And Billy looked at Everett like he was the future. Sparkling, dazzling, and everything that was good on the horizon.
In five minutes, Billy had done what Aiden never could. Never would.
Pain clawed its way down Aiden’s chest. Like a hot knife, it twisted in his gut in a blow that was far from lethal. Killing him would be too easy. And Aiden was too stubborn to die.
He nodded when Billy grinned over his shoulder excitedly. Tipped his drink to the two when they disappeared into the darkness, hand in hand. He watched them take on the school, change perceptions about what was right and what wasn’t. He watched as the scouts came to look at Everett. He watched as Everett took an offer that allowed him to have Billy by his side. The same school that gave Billy a full ride to study. And he watched as they fell in love, that look in their eyes never fading.
Even as he felt like he was. Like the sharper they became the less distinct he became. His edges blurred while they shone.
Just before graduation they finally lost the farm. Billy offered to help, of course he did, but his mother shushed him. Told him to make a life for himself. To reach for that future he wanted so badly. She never said that to Aiden.
He finished high school. Whatever else they could say about him, he did that. He took the last test, and walked right out of school. He didn’t think about how unfair it was that the person who never wanted anything had nothing. He didn’t think about how the ache in his chest stung. And he didn’t think about being angry.
Because he couldn’t. How could he be angry when the two people he loved found happiness?
He was happy for them.
And he was fine.
One boot in front of the other, he found himself with a duffel bag full of stuff and his thumb out. Aiden didn’t want a final summer. He didn’t want anything. Not as he climbed into the dented bed of a pickup and watched the sun set on the town he never thought he’d leave.
Wind ripped through his hair, and he settled back against the cab of the truck.
They called this place Gods country.
Aiden never found out why.
CHAPTER ONE
Five years later
Leather creaked as Aiden tightened his grip on the whip. He clucked, waving the coiled whip in his hands as he pressed the cattle forward. Lumbering creatures, they brayed and grunted as he shuffled them toward the open gate. Yips punctuated the low mooing, a flash of brindle as Sugar shot through thick legs, nipping the stragglers with quick snaps of her jaws.
A chill whipped across the fields and Aiden shivered under his layers. With his free hand he zipped his jacket up the rest of the way, dropping his nose into the stiff fabric.
Dusk was setting as he moved the herd. His bones ached in the way that promised he wouldn’t have to worry about falling asleep tonight. Sugar got the last of the stragglers through the open gate and Aiden sidled Eagle through after them. Grimacing, he dismounted, landing on toes that had been frozen solid for the last two hours. It felt like they shattered the moment he hit the ground. Forcing his legs to move through the pins and needles, he lifted the gate and settled it back into place.
Eagle snorted disdainfully, cocking a back leg to rest while Aiden coiled the chain through the fence post. The dark gelding always had an opinion. It was part of the reason Aiden liked him. Born in the middle of a lightning storm, the leggy bay with four white socks had taken all of ten seconds to stand. Never even waiting for his mother’s gentle push, he had taken one look around and had been thoroughly unimpressed.
Not many people wanted a horse with an opinion. But Aiden liked him. Witness to his dark nights and drunken ramblings. Silent in his judgement, which is more than Aiden can say for most.
He got the gate locked and didn’t bother to remount. Darkness was falling and he’d set up camp here. Sugar returned, tongue lolling as she dropped into the crispy winter grass. Her pants were the soundtrack to the evening. A prelude to the night symphony that would begin once darkness fell over the mountain.