Page 50 of His Country

Ethan jerked his attention back to Aiden, confusion written all over his face. “What? Babe, that’s not what I said.”

Aiden wrenched his arm free so hard it knocked Ethan off balance. “Don’t call me that!”

Hand still stretched out between them; Ethan took a step toward him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know something must have?—”

Aiden shook his head. “You don’t know anything.” Why did everyone think they knew so much about him? What gave them the right? “You don’t know me. I’m just the guy you fuck.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “What?”

Swallowing thickly, Aiden began picking at the grease on his skin. Desperate to get rid of it. All of it. The conversation with Billy. The kisses. Camping under the stars. That night at the bar. Sex. It wasn’t him. Aiden wasn’t—he couldn’t be?—

He could still hear it. The boys in the locker room, their words sharp as they ricocheted off the metal lockers. The preacher in church. His mom and dad when they would reach for the remote to change the channel becausethey’re everywhere nowadays.

It was all so loud he wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn’t. His hands were covered in grease, and he wanted it off so fucking badly but Ethan was still looking at him and it was getting harder to breathe.

It’s a sin, Aiden.

Why can’t they just be normal?

Love the sinner, I guess…

I’m going to ask Billy to prom.

I need your help, or we’ll lose the farm.

I love you.

The last one hurt the most. Because it was wrong. No one loved Aiden. They couldn’t. There was nothing to love. Because Aiden wasn’t and he couldn’t be.

“I’m not—” he croaked, staring down at his hands. “I’m not—we’re not…I’m not like that.”

Ethan’s lips were pressed together. “You’re not or you don’t want to be?”

Aiden was going to throw up. Nausea roiled in his stomach in great heaving waves. He kind of hoped it would choke him.

“I can’t,” he whispered around the nausea, his hands shaking in front of him. The grease was thick around his callouses. He can’t. Not with these filthy hands that only ruined everything. They couldn’t save his farm. They couldn’t make Everett love him. They couldn’t make his parents notice him. They couldn’t do anything except throw bales of hay.

He wasn’t good enough.

“It was never just fucking around,” Ethan said, voice icy. “Not for me.”

“Bullshit,” Aiden cried, his voice thick. He looked up from his hands to see Ethan’s stony face. He wanted to run. He was good at that. “I’m just another one of your projects. Another thing for the Patron Saint of Assholes to save.”

Ethan’s throat bobbed. “Is that what you think? That all I want is to fix you?”

“Isn’t it?”

He stepped forward, like he wanted to grab Aiden. “I want to love you, jackass!”

His words landed like a bomb. Shrapnel exploding out in every direction, slicing, and cutting with such precision that he didn’t feel the wreckage it wrought until a few moments later. When the blood drained from his face and his hands dropped to his side.

Aiden didn’t realize he was running until he was on the other side of the bunkhouse. The space didn’t help. Falling against the wall, his hand left a streak as he stumbled to his knees. A sob wrenched its way out of his battered chest. It was the only way he could breathe.

But it was fine.

Aiden would always be....fine.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN