Page 49 of His Country

Pushing himself to his feet, he resisted the urge to straighten his hat. He looked past Billy toward the barn door. “Guess so.”

He stepped around Billy, intending to make it to the door. All he had to do was walk. One foot in front of the other and he could make it to the truck. Or the bunk house. Anywhere but here.

“That’s it?” Billy shouted, taking two long strides to block Aiden from the door. “No. No way. You owe me an explanation! You just—you can’t just pretend like nothing happened. You disappeared, Aiden! We thought you were dead. Or kidnapped.Halfway to Mexico and we were going to get some ransom letter with your fucking fingers.”

Aiden couldn’t look at him. “I left.”

“I left,”Billy mocked. “Not good enough. I know losing the farm was rough but?—”

“You don’t know anything,” Aiden snapped, finding that surge of anger that was so familiar. It was like a cat curling up on his lap, grounding.

Billy blinked, surprised by the sudden outburst. He’d never heard him raise his voice before. Hell, Aiden couldn’t even remember the last time he did.

“I know you were my best friend,” Billy said, crossing his arms. “I know that one day I said ‘see you later’ only to never see you again. I know that there was a For Sale sign by your driveway and your parents wouldn’t answer my calls.” His lip wobbled. Aiden hated it. “What I don’t know is why? Why? What did I do? I-I’ve spent so many years wondering why and I can’t…Aiden.”

Billy was crying. Like it was no big deal. Billy was wearing his emotions, his life, on his face like he wasn’t ashamed. Or scared.

That was why.

Because Aiden only knew how to hurt. He would always be in love with heartbreak and have a tooth under his pillow. The person on the peripheral, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. He never knew which end was up.

Because Everett and Billy were summer crops. They blossomed in the warmth, reaching for the sun with big, bright petals that caught the eye. And Aiden was winter. Thriving in the cold, the dark, and damp. Only planted out of desperation.

They might have shared the same field, but they’d never sprout at the same time.

“I had nothing,” Aiden said, surprising himself.

“What are you talking about?” Billy asked, his eyebrows scrunched. “You lost the farm but that didn’t matter. We would have figured it out! Everett, me, and you. We had each other we had?—”

“Everything,” Aiden cut him off, his voice low. “You had everything, and I had nothing. I’m sorry if that hurt you.”

And he was sorry. He didn’t think his leaving would affect them so badly, and maybe there was a small, petty part of himself that was pleased they had hurt a fraction of what he had. But it was shrinking by the second. He’d never wanted to hurt them, that was partly why he left. To keep them from being dragged down. To let them blossom under the sun.

He pushed past Billy, desperate to put distance between them. Knuckles leaving lines of grease on his jeans as he walked, he made a beeline for the bunkhouse. It was cold and empty, with moonshine in the fridge. Exactly where he belonged.

For a while Aiden thought he could want more than just being fine. But the look on Billy’s face reminded him why he hopped state lines, why he kept to himself. Maybe it was his parent’s fault, or maybe he was just broken, but Aiden was who he was.

And, God, did it hurt. He had gotten used to the knot in his chest, the endless wound that would never heal. But then Ethan had come by. He’d smiled and pushed. Smoked a cigarette he claimed he didn’t like. He stayed.

Until he didn’t. Maybe it was this morning with a note, or maybe it was next week. But he’d leave. That’s what people did. They looked over Aiden to the future beyond him, a place Aiden couldn’t see because he was sobusy looking at his own goddamn feet.

Halfway to the bunkhouse someone grabbed his wrist. Aiden jerked his hand, ready to clock Billy if he had to, only to find himself looking up into warm brown eyes.

“Aiden?” Ethan’s brows were drawn. His jacket was open, stethoscope hanging around his neck.

And suddenly he could breathe. Ethan’s shoulders were blocking the view of the barn and he was looking at him in that way he did, and it was so comforting, Aiden found himself drifting into it. His heart rate settled, and he nearly buried his nose in the sheepskin lining of his coat just to get a whiff of sterilizer and tobacco.

Everything from last night came rushing back—his hands, the comfort of his body, the way he held him all night with his breaths huffing clammy against Aiden’s skin. For the first time since he woke up that morning, his mind settled.

“What did you say to Billy? He’s crying.”

Aiden froze. For a moment, it was like the world stood still, and then he felt it. A crack down the center of his chest, so profound he swore he could hear it. The sound of his ratty, patched heart breaking.

Stumbling back, he looked up at Ethan’s face and noticed he was glancing back toward the barn.Toward Billy.Like they all did. Everyone looked through Aiden to see Billy and his fucking petals.

Blinking, he tried to pull away, but Ethan still had his fingers wrapped around his wrist, following him as he backed away. They were clean. Nails trimmed and skin glowing. Such a contrast to Aiden’s. He’s always been just a dumb hick. He was stupid to ever think otherwise.

“Billy,” he laughed, humorlessly. “Must be my fault, right?”