I took the thoughts tumbling in my head down to the barn and pushed them away in the routine of chores. We didn’t need to move the grazing strips yet, since the cows were getting hay and not making a lot of headway pawing through the snow. Just an ordinary day.
Austin joked around with Colby as they saddled up to ride fences. The heavy snow had taken down some trees onto the wires, and Colby had a gas chainsaw strapped to the back of his saddle. Overprotective me wanted to warn them to be careful out there. I managed to just tell them, “Davis is making a hot lunch and cookies. Take a break, so you don’t get chilled enough to make mistakes.”
Colby saluted me cheekily. “Will do.”
Austin gave me a smile as simple and open as his blue eyes, and they jogged out of the barnyard, snow swirling around them in the wind. That whirl of white made their silhouettes fade, like the end scene of a movie.
What if this was the last time I saw Austin? What if he was leaving now?The gut-punch of regret was a clear answer. I needed to talk to him. Tonight.
After lunch, and excellent cookies, where Austin turned up with all his limbs attached and ate his weight in beef stew, Davis cleaned the kitchen, then came out for afternoon chores. Whatever his hips were doing, they didn’t keep him from steering the tractor neatly through and around the drifts, hauling the bale transport.
“So, did you talk?” he asked when we’d unrolled a few bales for the hungry cows.
“Tonight,” I said. “I know better than to get personal in the middle of a workday.”
“I guess. I have lasagnas ready to go into the oven for dinner. I’ll pack one in a thermal carrier for the two of you.”
That helpful gesture was also an unsubtle nudge. “Why are you so into my business?”
“You’re my friend, Seth.” Davis pulled his hat lower over his eyes and peered up at me. “Excuse me if I don’t want to see you in the state you were when Miguel left.”
“Well, if no one gets their pelvis fractured, I should be fine,” I sniped, then regretted taking my irritation out on my friend. I was eternally grateful Davis had stuck with me through my darkest moments, even if he was pushing me now.
Davis just continued steadily, “Do you ever hear from Zachary?”
“No. We fell out of touch pretty quick.” Guilt heated my face. I hadn’t made the effort I should’ve. Back then, I thought maybe I reminded Zachary of things he didn’t want to think about. He’d refused to take a penny of assistance from me, although I was sure insurance hadn’t covered everything. I’d stopped calling, stopped looking at his socials. “I don’t even know where he moved to.”
“He’s in Tucson. Works in a car dealership. Walking okay, though he uses a cane on bad days. Married, and they had a little girl last year. She’s got his same red hair in the pictures he posted.”
“Oh.” Relief and shame washed through me. I hadn’t ruined Zachary’s life. I should’ve stayed in touch. “I wish I’d known.”
“I figure you could’ve, if you’d wanted to.” Davis eyed me from the tractor seat. “Not saying you need to talk to him, but he’s moved on. It’s time you did too.”
That was easier said than done. The thud of the bull’s head hitting Copper’s thigh, her panicked whinny as she went over, Zachary’s scream and then his groans of pain— they all lived in my head. But maybe I hadn’t tried as hard as I should to get past the helplessness and the guilt.
My best friend didn’t push me any harder, just stepped on the gas and we kept on with the feedings, but something tight and painful eased inside me, knowing Zachary was okay.
True to Davis’s word, at dinnertime, he passed me a lasagna and told Austin and me to go have an early night. John seemed about to complain, but he shut up when Davis glared at him.
Austin glanced at me as we crossed the farmyard. “Why does Davis want to get rid of us? Is he giving us an early start on a night of hot sex before I have to go?”
“Yeah, about that. We should talk.”
The dogs came bounding through the snow as we reached the cabin. Austin bent to pet them, talking gentle nonsense. Patch snuffled at the door and whined, asking to go in.
“You spoiled them the two days we had them,” I teased. “They know you’re a soft touch.” I unlocked the door, blocking the dogs with my foot. “Go up to the house. Davis is another soft touch. He’ll feed you.”
Patch tilted his head, turned, and trotted toward the house. Ramble hesitated, then galloped off in the older dog’s wake.
“Smart pups,” Austin noted. “That lasagna smells awesome.”
“We should eat while it’s hot.” I led the way inside and ignored the elephant in the room throughout getting our winter things off and dishing out the food.
We were both hungry, so there was only a quarter of the lasagna left by the time Austin said, “So, what are we doing here?”
“Huh?”
“All by our lonesome with a private catered meal. I don’t think Davis did that so I could suck you off under the table. Though I’m willing.” Austin flashed a resolve-crumbling grin.
