He shakes his head, slicking back his short hair with his palm. Then, he reaches down and peels off his shirt, tossing it over the edge of the trough. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s not for him to be ripped underneath. Maybe all he had to do in rehab was lift weights, because, Lord, he looks so damn good. He’s got a scar on his visible ribs, a few random tattoos, but it’s the abs that steal the entire show. I’m hot all over, in a way I’ve never been before.
I never was with Shane—my brain makes a note of that.
My feet are glued to the ground. He dips both hands in, splashing water all over his shoulders and stomach. He shakes his head, water spraying everywhere. Then, he grabs his shirt and uses it to towel off, wiping his hands and up his thick forearms.
God, they need to put him in a commercial or something.
“What’re you looking at?”
I jump out of my skin, whirling to find Dad standing with his hands on his hips, gazing out over the field to my right.
“Nothing,” I say, scrambling out onto the driveway. He follows close behind.
“Please,” he says. “I saw you looking at the Hatfield boy.”
“Dad,” I whisper.
He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What? I don’t have nothing against him. He’s a good guy.”
Distracted from my mortification, I look up.
“Really?” I whisper.
Dad has never liked my boyfriends, not a single one, and every time, he’s been dead right about them. It feels significant that he likes Bittern, even if I’ve never spoken a single word to the man. Maybe it’s a sign I should go introduce myself. The thought is terrifying, which is strange. I’ve never gotten scared of talking to men before. Usually, they’re the ones who get nervous.
Bittern seems quiet, gentle, and I like that. But his story…that’s intense, and it makes me feel like he’s not in a place to date right now.
“Yeah, he doesn’t have much to say, but he’s a great worker,” Dad says.
We start walking up the hill, heading home.
“Mom told me his story,” I say after a while.
“Yeah, it’s pretty rough stuff.”
“Could say that again.”
We climb up on the porch and both sink down on the steps. I’ve sat hours on this porch with Dad in the past, just shooting the shit while he unwinds from his day. I could close my eyes and paint the line of the mountains from memory, and yet, I’m still soaking them in like I might never see this picture again.
They never get old to me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BITTERN
My body is spent from being hit by the sun all day. After I eat in the mess hall, I sit on the porch steps until it’s pitch dark outside. Overhead, the porch light attracts swathes of moths and bugs. They buzz with the same sounds they did back home. I like that part.
My fingers move, a block of wood in my grip. Slowly, a sparrow makes its way out. One of my favorites, a Chipping Sparrow, a tiny brown and white striped bird with a chestnut crown around its head. They filled the fields in Kentucky, stirring up as I walked through them. Another bird that doesn’t do anybody any ill, just digs around in the grass and eats seeds that fall from the harvest.
I set it on the porch railing next to the others.
Then, I head inside and go to bed with the lights off this time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JANIE
I’m hot and restless that night. It’s strange to go from being in a relationship to being single so abruptly. Turns out, it’s lonely being in bed by myself. I didn’t have a problem with it until I saw Bittern looking hot and rough and wet by the watering trough. Now, I can feel the emptiness, the cold side of the bed, the hot itch that begs to be filled.
