Page 8 of His Country

“Congrats by the way,” he rasped, hating the way his voice sounded.

Sugar ran to his side. He scratched her ear and ignored the way Everett stepped forward, getting between Billy and the dog. Or maybe between Billy and him. Aiden felt a vicious sort of satisfaction curl in his stomach.

Carol was watching them with her shrewd little eyes. Aiden wanted to cut them out. Flick them down the hill.

He just nodded at them both. “Have a good one.”

With Sugar by his side, he forced his head up, walking up the hill back to wherever the fuck was away from here.

“Aiden.”

Everett’s voice was like a gun loaded with a thousand memories best forgotten. Blown apart like buckshot. How many times had Aiden imagined him saying his name in that voice, whispering it in his ear like a prayer? Like something worth saying.

He had settled, taking the name when it was said quickly to get his attention. Brusquely, without consequence. Falling from lips that didn’t care what it sounded like.

And that was fine.

He was fine.

Waving over his shoulder, he continued unhurriedly. He wanted to cling to whatever dignity he had left.

Head down, he focused on his feet. One boot in front of the other. Breathing even.

He wanted to hate them. Wanted to blame them for everything, but the truth was that Billy and Everett had done nothing wrong. They didn’t betray him. They didn’t intentionally hurt him. They didn’t do anything but fall in love, find happiness, and a future.

With his head down he didn’t see the person he bumped into. Hands grabbed him like he was going to fall, and he mumbled a thanks, looking up quickly to see a flash of brown eyes before continuing.

Aiden hadn’t cried since he was ten years old, and his dad convinced him to watch Old Yeller. But he was going to cry now. He didn’t even know why. He just hated it.

Rounding the ranch office, he didn’t think he’d make it back to the bunkhouse. He dove between two trucks and dropped, leaning back onto the passenger wheel, pressing his head down between his knees and heaving. God, he wished he could vomit all this shit up. Puke it out like rancid alcohol and start over again. Head pounding, reeking of sick, but ready to heal with the poison out of his system.

Sugar licked his cheeks, tail wriggling back and forth. She was worried. He slipped his arms around her and buried his face into her dusty coat, breathing in the smell of dirt and dog.

Aiden felt his pain turn bitter. Like he licked a battery, it coated his tongue in something acidic. All he’d ever wanted—theonlything he’d ever wanted—was to be left alone. To leave his past in the past. And here it was, not just in his tattered memories, but tangible. Living. Looking at him. It wasn’t fair.

“You want a smoke?”

He jerked up, inhaling sharply. Blinking the black spots from his eyes he realized he had his ass in the gravel with Sugar draped across his chest. She licked the wet from his cheeks.

Two long fingers were extending a cigarette toward him. He didn’t smoke, hated the smell, but he took it anyway. Rolling it between his fingers, he looked up to see a pair of coffee colored eyes looking down at him from beneath thick brows.

This was the guy he’d smacked into. Now that he wasn’t fleeing, he could get a good look at him. Tall, lean, with dark hair that looked neat without being pretentious. There was a layer of scruff on his cheeks that looked more like he’d forgotten to shave rather than the artful dusting that guys thought made them look rugged. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t not smiling either. It was a weird look. Like he knew exactly what was going on but had the courtesy to offer a cigarette and shut the fuck up.

He shifted, reaching into his pocket to produce a cheap plastic lighter. Flicking it on he extended it towards Aiden before he lit the end of his cigarette and watched the smoke curl up between them before putting it between his lips.

The taller man inhaled, cheeks hallowing as he took a long drag. He looked out over the almost empty lot. “I don’t usually smoke,” he admitted like Aiden cared. “But there’s something about a cigarette on a crisp day.”

Aiden didn’t inhale. He just held it between his lips, watching as ash fell onto his worn jeans. Sugar sniffed at the cigarette before sneezing and trotting off.

“She’s got the right idea,” the man said, dropping beside him.

“Most dogs do.”

The stranger inclined his head, hooking it between his index and ring finger and pulling it out from between thin lips. He exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering closed.

“So you know Billy.”

Aiden clenched down so hard he almost snapped the cigarette in half. “I knew him.”