Page 42

Promises, Promises

Charlie

Ah, the scent of good old-fashioned farm life. I never thought I’d miss it, but after being away at college for so long, it’s like a long-lost friend welcoming me home. Pungent and ripe, it fills my nostrils and lungs as I grab a pair of extra-large gloves from the hook hanging by the barn door.

I traipse over to Daisy’s stall, the clomping of my work boots echoing off the wooden flooring. She eyes me warily as I approach, her tail swishing in agitation. I know that look—it’s the “don’t even think about it, Chuck” glare. But I’m no stranger to Daisy’s attitude. She and I go way back.

I grab the milking stool, the same one I used to perch on as a kid when this was my daily chore.

Except now, my ass has gotten too big for the tiny wooden seat.

I have to balance precariously as I hunker down next to Daisy’s swollen udder.

She shuffles restlessly, clearly not thrilled about my sudden return.

“Easy girl,” I murmur, giving her flank a reassuring pat. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be, all right? I know I’ve been gone a while, but I still remember how to do this.”

Famous last words. As soon as I reach for her teat, Daisy lets out an ornery moo and stomps her hoof, nearly upending me and my little stool. Milk splashes everywhere as I scramble to keep the pail from tipping.

I can’t help but chuckle as I regain my balance. Some things never change.

Once I settle in and find my rhythm, my mind wanders back to last night. The creaking bed, Harrison’s moans mixing with the absolute filth spewing from his mouth, my fingers working his cock. His body aching for more until he finally came with a howl that made my bones melt.

Fuck, just thinking about it has me half-hard in my jeans. I shift uncomfortably on the milking stool, trying to focus on the task at hand. But it’s no use. The memory of Harrison’s face as he came is branded into my brain. It was beautiful and nothing like my garish expression, I’m sure.

I don’t think I’ve ever had such a visceral reaction to ejaculating. My whole body felt like it was being electrocuted; I couldn’t think, I couldn’t see. All I could do was feel, my heart nearly splitting in two at the thought of who was making me react in such an over-the-top way.

I’m so lost in the memories of the best sex ever that I don’t hear the barn door creak open. It’s not until a large hand claps down on my shoulder that I’m jolted back to reality. “Jesus Christ!” I yelp, nearly leaping out of my skin.

My hand jerks involuntarily, tugging hard on Daisy’s teat. She lets out an indignant moo and jerks away from me, sending me pitching forward. I slam my face right into her udder, my open mouth getting a blast of fresh, warm milk.

Spluttering and coughing, I rear back, my face dripping. Over the sound of my father’s booming laughter, I can hear milk pattering onto the straw-covered floor.

“Shit, Dad!” I grumble, wiping my eyes. “Warn a guy next time, would ya?”

“Sorry, son,” he chuckles, handing me a worn towel. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You must have been pretty deep in thought there. ”

My face flushes even redder than it already is, and I pray to every deity who might be listening that my dad doesn’t notice the rather obvious bulge in my jeans.

I focus intently on wiping the milk from my face, avoiding my dad’s amused gaze. “Yeah, I was thinking about all the chores that need doing,” I mumble.

“Uh-huh. I’m sure that’s exactly what has you all hot and bothered.” His tone is knowing, and my blush deepens. Damn it, I should’ve known I couldn’t hide anything from him. The man’s got a sixth sense when it comes to his kids.

Desperate to change the subject, I toss the damp towel aside and gesture to the half-full milk pail. “Mind giving me a hand with the others? Daisy’s being her usual charming self this morning.”

Dad grabs a spare stool and plops his ass down. “Sure thing. You work on her; I’ll take Bessie. Between the two of us, we should be able to get these fine ladies milked before breakfast.”

I nod gratefully, turning back to Daisy. She eyes me balefully, as if daring me to try daydreaming again.

“Tractor’s acting up again,” Dad says after a few minutes of silence.

“Seriously? That thing’s older than I am. Do you think it’s finally time for an upgrade?”

Dad sighs. “It should be, but I’m not ready to part with it yet. Oh, and Mrs. Jenkins’s dog got into our coop last week.”

“What?! Did you lose any chickens?”

“A couple,” he admits, shaking his head. “Roy chased it off before it killed the whole coop.”

As my dad talks, I watch his hands move with practiced ease. He’s been doing this for years, day in and day out, never complaining and always finding something to joke about, even when things get tough. It’s hard not to admire that kind of dedication.

It makes me wonder if this’ll be Roy’s life one day. Tending the farm when Mom and Dad get too old to manage on their own. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Guilty, mostly.

“I still can’t believe she hasn’t put that dog down yet,” I say, trying to shake off the creeping sense of responsibility.

“You know how she is,” Dad chuckles. “Thinks every critter deserves a second chance.”

I’m quiet for a moment, watching him finish up with his cow while I pretend to check my phone for the time.

“You okay over there?” Dad asks, giving me a sideways glance that feels as if he’s X-raying my soul.

“Yeah.” I shove my phone back in my pocket and grab another bucket. “Just thinking about how much I’ve missed this place.” Which isn’t even close to a lie.

He smiles, and there’s something in his expression that constricts my lungs. Pride? Understanding? Whatever it is, it hits me right where it counts.

I should be here helping out like Roy is, but instead, I’m off swinging bats and chucking curveballs as if it’s the most important thing in the world. And maybe it is for me. But knowing what I’ve left behind takes some of the shine off that major-league dream.

Dad stands up and stretches his back with a groan. “Well, if you want this old man to keep up with you today, why don’t you run inside and fetch us some coffee?”

I nod and head out of the barn before he can see how relieved I am to escape this whole emotional minefield.

By the time Dad and I finish the morning chores, the sun is high in the sky and sweltering. My shirt sticks to me like cling wrap, but we head out to the fields anyway. Dusty and dry, the path crunches under our boots as we trudge toward the tractor, the air shimmering with heat waves .

Dad squats down and starts fiddling with the ancient machine. “Maybe it’ll start behaving if you give it a pep talk.”

I laugh and lean against a wheel. “What about a swift kick?”

The thing is rusted everywhere that counts, with paint peeling off in staggered spots.

I pop the hood and breathe in the oily scent of machinery and old metal.

Dad stands up and joins me, poking around the engine and giving a low whistle like he can’t believe it’s still in one piece. “It’s the fuel line. I’ll call Hank.”

I grab a wrench and dig in, twisting and turning bolts while the sun beats mercilessly on my back. It’s almost meditative, the clink of tools and the steady hum of insects all around. My hands get slick with grease, and I wipe my forehead with my arm, only to smear it with oil.

“He didn’t pick up,” Dad says, frowning.

“Can he even hear his phone anymore?” Hank’s older than my dad, and his hearing started going by the wayside when I was in middle school. Lord only knows how badly he’s faring now.

Dad laughs. “We’ll know if he doesn’t call me back by next week.”

I snort and keep tinkering, trying to coax some life into the old beast. A couple of minutes later, my finger snags on a sharp piece of metal.

“Shit,” I mutter, yanking my hand back and inspecting the damage. Blood wells up from the cut, bright red against my grimy skin. Another battle scar to add to the collection, I guess.

Injuries are the one thing I don’t miss about being on the farm. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve sliced my finger, stubbed my toe, or gotten a black eye. It’s a rite of passage around here—you’re not a real farmer until you’ve bled for the cause.

Dad and Roy have fared no better over the years. I still haven’t forgotten about the time Roy got kicked in the nuts so hard by Daisy that he ended up with swollen testicles the size of grapefruits. I shouldn’t have laughed, but damn, it was a sight to behold.

Luckily, I haven’t experienced anything that bad. But give it time. The farm has a way of humbling even the most experienced among us.

After another fifteen minutes of endlessly tinkering, we lean against the tractor and take five.

“You boys seem happy,” Dad says casually as he wipes sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah, we are.”

“I know I don’t know much about these…arrangements you kids have nowadays. But if it works for you three, who am I to say any different?”

I blink at him, not sure if I’m hearing him right. “You’re okay with it?”

“You’re my son,” he says simply. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

I’m so relieved I can hardly speak. “Thanks, Dad.”

He nods, adding, “Just be careful. Not everyone will be as accepting as your mother and me.”

“Yeah. We kinda figured that.”

He’s silent for a beat, then claps me on the shoulder with a grin. “Now, let’s talk about safety.”

I stare at him, my brain going on the fritz. Safety? What the hell is he talking about? We’re in the middle of a goddamn field, not a construction site.

Noticing my confusion, he smirks. “Son, I’m talking about sex.”

My eyes pop out of their sockets, and heat creeps up my neck. “What?!”

“I heard you two last night. You and Harrison.”

“You heard us?” I squeak out, my face burning hotter than the sun overhead.

Dad nods, looking way too amused for my liking. “The house has thin everything, Charlie. Walls, ceilings, floors. And you boys weren’t exactly quiet.”