Page 23 of His Country
“You think it was easy for me to see you like that?” he looked away from the fire, giving Aiden the back of his head. Creating space. “You were just propped up against the stall. I thought you were ignoring me at first, but then you didn’t move. You had these…tears on your face but you weren’t breathing. God.” He rubbed his face.
Ethan finally turned to look back at Aiden, like he needed to see a living, breathing man rather than the one he was picturing. His face was cast in shadow from the fire, half visible and the rest shifting under shadows.
“I felt like I killed you.”
Aiden refused to acknowledge what those words did to him. They rattled around his empty shell like uncooked popcorn on a hot skillet.
His voice cracked. “Why did you push?”
Ethan looked resigned. “Because Everett and Billy are my friends and you hurt them.” He held Aiden’s eyes. He didn’t look apologetic, standing behind his motivations even after knowing their consequences. “You hurt them. Unintentionally, I know that now. I get it. Self-preservation can be a bitch.”
If Ethan refused to look away, then so did Aiden. Stubborn ran in his blood, and even though the heat from the fire was burning his eyes and his heart jack rabbited against his chest, he held on. Forced himself to look into his eyes.
“How should I have done it, then?”
Ethan sucked his teeth. “I’m not your therapist, Aiden. I can’t tell you how you should have done things. That kind of talk will drive you crazy.” His eyes were soft, understanding simmeringin his irises. “I know you didn’t do it to be cruel. I think sometimes that’s the best you can ask for.”
More certain than the sun setting in the west, Aiden knew he’d never tried to hurt them. Of all the things that could be said about him, he didn’t want to cause them pain. He was happy for them then, and he still was now. Leaving had been a desperate act of self-preservation. A way to minimize casualties.
Ethan watched the thoughts flicker across his face, emotions chasing the shadows cast from the snapping flames. He reached out and dragged a thumb across his cheek, rough and cold. A barely there touch that was more about getting his attention than touch.
“You’re enough, Aiden. Everett might not have seen you the way you wanted, but he still cared about you. Billy, too. They loved you because you’re worthy of being loved.”
Without meaning to, Aiden leaned into the touch. He wanted to feel that kind touch, one he hadn’t felt in so long it felt like a ghost. He wanted the warmth that bloomed in his shell to have a tangible source, a thing he could touch to feel it again. That soft flickering heat, a reprieve from the nothing. A sun to provide growth for the barren wasteland of his heart.
“At some point you’re going to have to figure out there’s so much more than being fine, and you can want that.”
They stayed like that for a long time—Aiden’s lips parted, unable to think or speak, and Ethan’s knuckles just barely skating across the stubble on his cheeks.
And between Sugar’s snores, the horses grazing nearby, and the rustling of wind in the dead trees, something flickered in Aiden’s shell. A tentative leaf reaching for the sun, too stubborn to stay dead.
CHAPTER SIX
As winter closed in, the wedding preparations began to ramp up. The wedding planner was a mousy woman who wore white kitten heels that reminded Aiden of his mother’s Sunday best. She always had some kind of fabric spilling from her pockets and had a habit of writing notes down on her forearms with a marker stuck behind her ear. Isaac followed her around like a puppy, dropping everything the moment her white shoe hit the driveway.
Like he promised, Aiden stayed out of the way. It was easy to ignore the whole event when it was just a harried woman with pen marks on her arms. He heard from Isaac that they were trying to keep the wedding low key—part of the reason they chose a private farm to hold the ceremony and reception—but gossip magazines were going crazy for any scant detail they could beg, steal, or borrow.
Everett and Billy would come by sometimes. Isaac wondered if they flew in on a private plane. Aiden’s immediate reaction was no, they weren’t like that. But he didn’t actually know, did he? Not anymore.
He’d watch them from the shadows of the barn, or behind the tractor as they followed their wedding planner. Discussingflower arrangements and music, they would sometimes look at each other over the woman’s head and share thislook.Like they knew exactly what the other was thinking.
Once, Billy caught sight of him. He took a step toward Aiden, but Everett grabbed his shoulder, pulled him away with a shake of his head. Those blue eyes met his over his fiancé and there was something in them. An emotion Aiden probably could have understood a few years ago—back when Everett was the kind of man who wouldn’t fly in a private jet—but time had muddied those waters.
They had changed. Grown into trees too tall to see the roots they’d grown together. That hurt in a way he deserved, but in a different way than it used to. It didn’t echo from his past, like how it hurt in high school. From when he longed to have those eyes on him, soft and syrupy. No, it was like from the early days. Before Aiden admitted to himself that what he wanted was more than just friendship. It was back when they threw sweaty towels at each other in the locker room or ate greasy burger out of paper sacks as the radio warbled over the pounding of open truck windows. Back when the farm was still teetering with a chance to save it.
Back when they were friends.
He found himself by the little colt, hands rubbing over familiar wiry hair. The colt snuffed around the dirt for the grass that hadn’t yet died. Aiden stared down at the remaining green poking from the dirt.
One of the yearlings in the big field whinnied and the colt called back, ears forward as he searched for his friends.
Aiden thought he was like this colt, injured and safer when left alone. Thought he’d put up fences he would never want to take down. But the fences grew bigger every day, trapping him with nothing but his own guilt to keep him company. And nomatter how much pain he was in, the colt constantly paced the fence. Desperate for a way out, a glimmer of freedom.
And like this colt, there was someone calling him from the other side. Someone who wasn’t afraid of a little hard work. Someone who wasn’t afraid to fight.
Ethan came around a lot more than he needed to. Sometimes, Frank wasn’t even home. He’d rock up in his truck, name stenciled on the side, and hang out with whoever was around. Sometimes Isaac or Carol, but more often than not it was Aiden.
He followed him around, asking questions and trying to help. Aiden would shove him out of the way but with a lot less malice than he usually did. Tell him to save his hands, and would do it for him. But he didn’t tell him to leave. Those times Ethan would grin at him with the biggest smile. Like Aiden had just given him some kind of gift.