My heart pounded in my chest like a drum, its rhythm the soundtrack to my growing unease. My mouth went dry, my tongue feeling like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. I cleared my throat, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice. “Maybe we should turn around, come back another day.” I suggested, attempting to mask the tremble in my voice with a chuckle.
Billy shot me a sidelong glance, his eyes softening as he caught the nervous edge in my laughter. “Nowyou're getting cold feet?” he asked, an attempt at lightheartedness that failed to mask the tautness of his voice.
I swallowed hard, my pulse throbbing in my throat. “No,” I managed to say, forcing a smile onto my face. “No, let's do this.”
We strolled up to the house, and I felt a sense of excitement as our hands brushed together. It wasn’t enough to drown out my anxiety, but Billy’s nearness always settled me. His fingers gently intertwined with mine, sending electricity through my veins. Our steps were slower now, our movements seemingly in sync. We glanced at each other, a silent hope shining in our eyes.
Hope that the acceptance we'd found in each other would extend to his family, hope that the love we'd built would withstand the weight of our truth, hope that we'd continue to find a home in places and people, as we'd found in each other.
The porch creaked under our weight as we approached the front door. Before we could knock, it swung open, revealing the figure of Anson, Billy's older brother. The cap perched backward on his head was faded from years of sun, and his grin stretched wide across his face, giving him a boyish charm.
“Hey, you’re early.” Anson's voice was a deep rumble, as if it were birthed from the earth itself, a powerful sound that seemed to resonate with the very trees surrounding the property. He clomped down the wooden porch steps, each footfall confident, leaving the screen door swaying in his wake.
His gaze swept over us, pausing noticeably on our interlocked hands. The grin that had been present just moments before vanished. His eyebrows arched upwards, and his mouth hung open in disbelief. After a moment of stunned silence, his booming laughter echoed around the yard, startling a few birds from the trees.
“Well, I'll be damned!” Anson exclaimed, clapping Billy so hard on the back that he stumbled a bit. His eyes twinkled with mirth. “I knew you were lying when you said the two of you weren’t fucking around when we were kids.”
“We weren’t,” Billy and I protested in unison.
“Oh, so you just decided after thirty years of friendship that you’d try fu—” Anson glanced at James and Henry, who were still within earshot even though Henry was oblivious to anything that didn’t have four legs, fur, or feathers. “Seriously, I knew the two of you would get together eventually.”
Billy snorted, shaking his head at Anson's sudden show of insight. “Sure, you did,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. Anson's reaction had been more positive than expected, and the residual tension in Billy's frame began to ebb away. He acted like he wasn’t worried about his family’s reactions.
Anson's face crumpled slightly as he chewed over his next words. A flicker of concern crossed his eyes, mellowing the initial enthusiasm. He scratched the stubble on his chin, his demeanor switching from jovial to protective.
“But fuck, you guys. What about Danny?” His words hung in the air, a question laden with worry about how this revelation would impact their youngest brother.
Despite his initial jovial acceptance, Anson was, first and foremost, a protector. His allegiance lay with his family, and while he might be able to laugh off the surprise, the potential hurt that could be inflicted on one of their own was not a laughing matter. He narrowed his steely eyes on me. “You fucked him over pretty hard.”
“I know.” I squared my shoulders, my gaze not wavering as I spoke. “And that’s something I’ll always have to live with, but Billy’s trying to convince me I can’t beat myself up for the rest of my life over a decision I can’t take back.”
The front door opened again, and Billy's parents stepped onto the porch. I could feel my heart racing, my throat tight. Billy's parents appeared, confusion written across their faces as they assessed the situation.
His mom's gaze paused on our entwined hands, and then she let out a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Well, it's about time, isn't it?” she said, coming down the steps to wrap us both in a hug. “Maybe Billy will be able to get through that thick head of yours. I’d bet if you talk to Danny, he’d be the first to tell you things worked out the way they were supposed to, even though what you did was nearly inexcusable. Now, get over here and give me a hug.”
A wave of relief washed over me, followed by the warm, homey scent of Eleanor's freshly baked apple pie and the faint whiff of garden soil. She pulled back, beaming at us both, her approval radiating off of her.
The creak of the porch steps drew my attention to Randall, Billy's father. His expression was harder to read, his eyes scanning our joined hands. But after a moment, he nodded and extended his hand. “Screw up a second time and that forgiveness may not be as quick to come.”
The silent warning was clear.Don’t you hurt another one of my boys.
“I’ll do everything I can to keep that from happening, sir,” I promised. There was still plenty of work to be done, but for the first time since Henry was born, I didn’t want to run away or find a bush to puke behind because of the stress and anxiety in their presence.
13
MICHAEL
The restof the morning was spent chatting and preparing for the anniversary party. As the farmhouse door swung open, a gentle murmur of conversation and the delightful smell of Eleanor’s home-cooked food wafted out. The kitchen hummed with quiet activity, the soft clinking of cookware creating a comforting backdrop.
I was grateful to Billy for suggesting we come over earlier in the day, giving James the chance to familiarize himself with the environment, easing into the chaos of the anniversary party instead of being thrust into the heart of it.
In the kitchen, Eleanor worked on preparing lunch as if she was the host rather than the guest of honor. My heart swelled as I watched James approach her.
“Is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?” He chewed on his bottom lip, hunching his shoulders and tucking his chin as if ready to be scolded for intruding.
“Oh, that’s sweet of you,” Eleanor cooed. She looked around, trying to find something he could do. “I’m assuming you know how to slice fruit?”
“If you show me what you want done, I can do just about anything,” he responded confidently. He washed his hands while Billy’s mom set up a cutting board and knife for him. “Thank you.”
