Page 22 of His Country

Eagle might have been shorter, but he was quicker. It didn’t take them long to pass Ethan, flipping him the bird as they galloped past.

They chased each other until they got to the first fence line. By then the horses were out of breath, warm breath pluming in front of their heaving nostrils. Wordlessly, they began walking the fence line, giving the horses a chance to catch their breath. Aiden scanned the fence as they walked, checking to wire for sagging. Occasionally he dismounted to move some large limb or hammer in a nail on the wooden posts.

At some point, Ethan began talking. Like an unspoken agreement that they were tired of their own thoughts, he began sharing his. Anything that came to mind slipped past his lips. He told Aiden that anytime he heard a Bald Eagle screech in a movie, it was actually the call of a Red-Tailed Hawk. Then about the time he broke his thumb playing with a cat toy.

“And my mom didn’t believe me that it was messed up and she bitched the entire time we sat in the ER. When the doctor came in to confirm it was broken, I got to rub it in her face sobad.” Ethan cackled. Aiden could only imagine the poor mother of four rambunctious boys.

Surprisingly, Aiden enjoyed the chatter. Rather than tune Ethan out, like he did Isaac, he listened. Even occasionally asked questions. It was nice to hear Ethan talk about himself. It took the pressure off Aiden—he didn’t have to have his guard up, worried he might do or say something that would give him away. He could just exist in the bubble of Ethan’s chatter.

Until he couldn’t.

“Town Hall Meeting is in two months.”

He didn’t say anything else, but that short sentence was enough to pop the bubble Aiden had been so happy to luxuriate in.

Aiden had been happy to ignore all the things Ethan brought with him in favor of just spending time with the man. Between nearly—he decided that he hadn’t actually died in an official capacity—dying, Billy and Everett’s wedding, and the losing battle to save the Mulligan’s ranch, Ethan seemed determined to shake up the fragile equilibrium Aiden had found.

Begrudgingly, Aiden could admit that Ethan didn’t shake it up so much as point out just how flimsy it was. The worst part was that he was right. And all the cold light he was shedding on Aiden had him thinking things he didn’t think he ever could.

First and foremost—who the hell was Ethan Landry and why was he freezing his ass off with him? What did he want? Was he trying to rub it in? Punish Aiden for hurting Billy and Everett like he did? Was this all some sort of elaborate revenge scheme?

He doubted it. As much as he didn’t understand him, he knew Ethan wasn’t malicious like that. He wasn’t underhanded. If he had an issue with Aiden, he’d say so. Or he’d have let him die in the barn that night. Hell, he didn’t even have tolethim. All he had to do was stay home. Not come back to check on him like he did.

And maybe that night was the crux of it all. Aiden couldn’t trust Ethan because he didn’t understand him or his motivations. Which wasn’t exactly unusual for Aiden. He wasn’t in the habit of letting anyone in, and most people got the hint. But Ethan was proving to be the exception to every rule. He didn’t just knock on Aiden’s walls; he broke in and barricaded himself inside. Poked at all the raw nerves like a kid right after he was told something was fragile, leaving his sticky fingerprints all over.

Which left him with two choices—he could either run, put Montana and Ethan in the rearview mirror and set up a new life, or he could accept his presence. Let him in enough to see just the edges of his tattered heart, the frayed discolored edges that occasionally caught glimpses of the light outside the lonely black hole he’d locked it away in.

And if Ethan ran when he finally understood just what lurked inside Aiden, well then, he could always run.

Besides chattering, Ethan was helpful, and they got the immediate fence lines ridden by the end of the first day. Aiden had to tighten one strand and Ethan watched as he pulled his gloves off with his teeth, using pliers to tighten the rusted wire strand. He tutted when Aiden returned with a bloody palm, stroking the small cut with his thumb.

“How’d you manage this?”

Aiden shrugged.

“That’s what gloves are for.”

Wiggling his fingers, he showed Ethan how they could move better without the thick gloves. “Hands are so cold I didn’t even feel it.”

He refused to let Ethan baby him and they made camp. As they puttered around, Ethan shivered, his lips turning a little blue. He was dressed poorly and hadn’t been moving as muchas Aiden. And he wasn’t used to being in such thin air. Aiden shrugged off his thick Carhartt and tossed it to him.

“Put it on.” He walked away before Ethan could complain, going to make sure the horses were properly hobbled. Even without looking, he could feel Ethan’s eyes on his back.

They ate dinner in companionable silence. Sometimes he’d break the silence, share what he was thinking, or small stories about work. But those didn’t feel like pointless words. They had punch, weight behind them he didn’t understand but wanted to know more of.

Their knees brushed as they sat on the rolled up sleeping bags and let the fire warm their face. Sugar was pressed to their backs, soaking up their warmth and kicking them as she ran in her sleep. Ethan was zipped up in Aiden’s khaki colored coat. The shoulders were big on him, but the arms too short. His pale wrists flashed in the evening, firelight dancing across the blue veins thrumming just under the thin skin.

Under all their layers it was hard to feel the warmth coming off each other, but Aiden thought it was enough.

Ethan hadn’t brought up that night. Even though he said he thought Aiden should talk about it. He didn’t ask any questions. While he didn’t shy away from mentioning Everett or his upcoming wedding, he didn’t go out of his way to talk about him.

At first Aiden was grateful, but then he found his thoughts wandering back to where they always did when Ethan was involved. Did Ethan suddenly stop caring? Why? Did he see Aiden at his absolute worse and decide he wasn’t worth the effort? A broken peanut shell forgotten on the sticky floor of a bar, just waiting to be crushed by the heel of a boot.

He didn’t like the thought of Ethan not caring. Not when Aiden had finally decided he might be open to letting him in. Any kind of relationship went two ways, so he steeled himself, stared down at his clasped hands and tried to quell the urge to flee.

Swallowing back words that tasted an awful lot like bile, he finally broke the silence. “Why haven’t you asked?”

Ethan could have played dumb. He could have made Aiden squirm, but he was truly the patron saint of assholes, and he was merciful.