He stops to squint up at the sky. “Yeah, her wish is my command. Something like that. Anyway, you need to look like you’re doing something productive with your life so I don’t get in trouble. Because yeah, she talks to me.”
I pause, unsure how to explain myself.
“I am doing something,” I say.
“You work and shit, but I think she wants to make sure you’re happy.”
I jerk my head in a nod. “I am happy.”
It’s his turn to stop and hit me with a critical stare. “Nah, you’re not happy. Just…happier than you were. But that’s not saying much, considering how fucking miserable you were before rehab.”
“Thanks.”
“You need to get laid.”
I knew that was coming, I’ve hung around men like Deacon all my life, and I know a one-track mind when I see one. Scooping an armful of muck, I fling it up onto the bank. “Oh yeah? That's gonna fix everything?”
He shrugs. “Fixes most things for me.”
“I don’t want to hear all that.”
“You squeamish about sex?”
I stop. “No, man, you’re married to my fucking sister.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense. Alright, a hypothetical…how about you go get laid because I hear that it helps you to not be such a fucking wet blanket. You like being alone at night or something? It’s not all that fun, I put in my time.”
I open my mouth, but shut it as the memory of what happened last night floods back. That shower did make me feel a hell of a lot better, good enough I think I’ll have another one tonight. Clearing my throat, I shrug, like this is no big deal.
“I’m working on it,” I say. “You tell Freya that.”
“That you’re working on getting laid?”
“No, Jesus, that I'm working on being happier.”
We both stop, soaked and coated in mud. There’s a second of silence, then he laughs, and I can’t help but smile. Deacon is an alright guy. I like that he just goes back to work, and lets me ruminate in my thoughts. The water clears out, and starts flowing again. I swear I can hear the happy lowing of the cattle by the time we swing up on our horses and point them in the direction of the ranch house. It’s a nice thought, even if they are just cows, that I made them have a better day.
We get back to the barn around noon. Freya’s outside, sitting on the porch steps with Stu rolling on his back in the walkway. Deacon comes up, and I look away so he can get a kiss from her, mud and soaked clothes and all. When I glance over again, he’s stepping around her, trailing his hand on her waist as he dips inside. I see it between them, a kind of softness that wasn’t present a moment ago.
It strikes a chord.
Growing up, Aiden, Wayland, and Ryland were big, tough, and mean. I was always the quiet one, too soft for Aiden’s attention. He was rigid in his own marriage, with his sons, and even worse with Freya. It always made me feel like the way I am was somehow wrong, but Deacon has me feeling like it’s alright to be a little bit gentle.
I sink down on the steps. Stu flips over and comes up, nudging me enthusiastically with his nose.
“I always wanted a dog,” I say after a minute.
Freya frowns. “Really?”
I shrug. “Yeah, guess so.”
“Why don’t you get one?”
The thought that I have the free will to get a dog hadn’t occurred to me. I watch Stu push at my hand with his nose, nipping when I take too long to respond. My first instinct is to shrug and say that maybe I will someday then forget about it. But I don’t know…I kind of like this little guy. It could be nice to get one of my own.
I’m quiet. Freya reaches out and slips her hand through my elbow.
Neither of us speak for a while. We’ve sat together on porch steps for so many hours, we couldn’t count them at this point. Only this time, my mind is clear, and I see everything in full color, not pushed behind a haze of everything I’ve tried to forget—the fields, the trees in the distance, slate gray mountains, and the soft scent of summer riding in on the wind.
