by Vivien Dean
“I don’t want to burden you.” Mom was caving. She sounded a lot less sure of herself.
“He’s my best friend. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”
Mom sighed. “I’m so glad you boys have reconnected. It’s made a huge difference in him.”
“He’s done the same for me,” Jim said quietly.
“Those boys always were better when the other was around,” Grandpa chimed in. “It’s just a shame their fathers have been too set in their ways to see it. No offense, Evelyn.”
Ronnie got the opinion he’d been saying “no offense” to Mom since she arrived.
“It’s probably better this way,” she said. “Bert’s not happy he missed a day off work to get those stitches. He could use some time to cool down before he sees Ronnie again.”
“Did you want me to go wake him up so you can talk to him?” Jim asked.
“No, no, he needs his rest. Just…tell him I was here, will you, please? And tell him I love him. I’ll call tomorrow and talk to him myself after Bert goes to work.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Grandpa said.
The screen door creaked as it was pushed open, though it took longer for it to shut. A moment after it did, Jim poked his head around the railing at the bottom of the stairs and grinned up at Ronnie.
“You’re not going to make me repeat all that, are you?” he said.
“No. How did you know I was here?”
“I saw your feet.”
Automatically, Ronnie looked down at his bare toes and curled them as if that would make them less noticeable. “Thank you for talking her out of taking me home.”
He lifted a single shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “It wasn’t that hard. She knows you’re better off here.”
“Do you think she’s afraid of me?”
“No, I think she doesn’t understand what you’re going through. She still sees you as her little boy.”
“I feel pretty helpless sometimes.”
“And sometimes you’re not. I’ll bet you have more days like that than the other kind.”
Jim would lose that bet, but his heart was in the right place. “So what happens now?”
“We get dinner on the table. Then we wash up. After that, we take it one minute at a time until neither one of us is dreading the next one.”
One minute at a time. Like one step at a time, a litany that had been drilled into his head when he thought he’d fall over with exhaustion on a march. It would’ve sounded insurmountable a few months ago, even a couple weeks ago.
Having Jim in his corner, ready to face his demons, too, made all the difference in the world.
Chapter 6
Ronnie didn’t realize how much he missed routine until he got it back. At home—his parents’ house, he had to remind himself—Mom took care of everything that needed to be done, fussing over him whenever he tried to help. He was left with too much time on his hands to fill, which he saw now resulted in too much time spent inside his own head.
At the McCutcheon farm, he was expected to pull his own weight. Grandpa and Jim did most of the heavy-duty tasks, but Grandpa made it clear when he roused Ronnie at dawn the day after he arrived that anyone who lived under that roof contributed to the running of the farm. Ronnie got easier tasks, like taking after the chickens and working the house garden that supplied what the McCutcheons ate rather than sold, while Jim managed much of the rest. Ronnie would’ve liked to take some of the plowing duties away, as well, but the clutch on the tractor was worse than those on cars. He wouldn’t be going solo on it until his leg was a lot stronger.
Each day was regimented, each man set to his chores. They came together at mealtimes to eat, and then spent some time relaxing after supper before Grandpa went to watch his programs. Jim and Ronnie escaped to the hill where they’d cleared the stumps, but all that ever happened there was holding hands. They laid on the grass to watch the sky, and more often than not, Ronnie fell asleep, worn out from a full day’s work. Jim woke him with a slight nudge after the sun was down, and Ronnie leaned against him as they went back up to the house.
They slept in separate rooms, though. Jim didn’t offer to stay, and Ronnie felt funny about asking. It wasn’t like he had the energy to do anything anyway. He was usually asleep again as soon as his head hit the pillow.
But the pattern set at the farm seemed to lighten his moods. He woke without the clouds hanging over his head, and even when his leg ached or the ringing in his ear got bad, all he had to do was find a quiet corner to rest for a little while. Nobody said a word. Nobody judged. He could go back to his next task at hand without feeling like everything was a waste of time and effort.
True to her word, Mom called every day after Father left for work. Neither one of them mentioned what had happened, but after a lifetime of pretending, Ronnie was used to that. She asked how he was feeling, and he’d tell her how his day before had gone, and they both hung up saying, “I love you.” It might’ve been the most he’d talked to her in his whole life. She even asked after Jim, accepting without commentary when Ronnie’s affections came through a little too clearly.
Two weeks went by. When the day came for one of Ronnie’s appointments with the orthopedic specialist in Lincoln, Grandpa packed them a lunch, Mom called to ask he let her know how it went, and Jim loaded him into the car without a single complaint.
“What’s this one for?” Jim asked on the way.
“Just a progress check.”
Bound into those two words was the question about the additional surgery he might require, but Ronnie didn’t elaborate. One minute at a time, they’d promised. He would do his darnedest not to dwell on what might be, which started by not bringing up the possibilities in the first place.
They sang along to the radio, as loud and off-key as they might have done in high school. When the new Doors song came on, Ronnie laughed when Jim cranked up the volume and insisted on no accompaniment so he could listen to Morrison without interruption.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for being a Doors fan,” he commented when the song was over.
Jim shot him a wicked grin. “He makes every song sound like sex. Anyone who isn’t a Doors fan is either a monk or too old to remember what it’s like to get laid.”
Though Ronnie laughed, Jim’s mention of sex sent his thoughts in a direction that probably wasn’t wise considering his upcoming appointment. But he couldn’t resist commenting, “Some of us don’t remember much because some of us didn’t have a lot of chances to actually make it happen.”
Jim sobered. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
He gnawed at his lower lip for a moment. “Have you been with anyone since high school?”
“Have you?”
“No.”
That startled him. “Really?”
Jim shrugged, suddenly looking ill at ease. “It never felt right. Girls, well…” Though his voice trailed off, Ronnie knew what he meant without his having to complete the thought. Neither one of them were attracted to girls.
“And you never found anyone else?” Jim was too good-looking not to get that kind of attention. Surely, in Omaha—
“Like I said. It never felt right. What about you?”
Now he felt guilty answering the original question. “A couple times. There was a guy in my unit when I first shipped over, but we only ever jerked each other off. We didn’t do it very often, but it never meant anything.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“No.” Frankly, the thought had never occurred to him. “You’re the only one I’ve ever kissed.”
That seemed to dispel some of Jim’s discomfort, though they dropped the subject after that. Ronnie’s thoughts kept going back to those moments in the bathroom, when they had almost broken through the barrier that held them apart. Jim hadn’t made overtures since, except for the hand holding. Ronnie had credited that to Grandpa’s presence, but maybe there was something else at play here.
&nbs
p; He didn’t have time to ask before they reached Lincoln. Then, he was too wrapped up in his appointment to dwell on it.
As he stared up at the ceiling, Ronnie tried not to move while Dr. Southard manipulated his leg. This was always the worst part. He had to fight the urge to yank his leg free.
“You’ve been using this,” Dr. Southard commented.
“Well, yeah. I do like to walk around every once in a while.”
Carefully, Dr. Southard straightened his leg and rested it on the table. “You can sit up now.” He stepped back to give Ronnie room. “What I meant was, you’re doing more than your usual. The muscles in your calf are noticeably stronger.”
“I’ve been working on a farm the past few weeks.”
“Oh?”
“Not anything too strenuous,” he clarified. “But a lot more than what I was.”
“I’m surprised your mother let you out of the house long enough to find a job.” Before Ronnie could snap at him for the backhanded insult, Dr. Southard smiled. “Good for you. I’m glad to see you taking the initiative. I think it’s paying off for you.”
He still felt the need to defend his mother. “Mom supported the idea.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by what I said. Your mother’s a fine woman. But when I talked to her at your last appointment about getting you to move around more, she seemed resistant. Not that that’s a surprise. She worries about you, but all that means is she’s no different than most of the mothers I see come through here.”
“Being stronger is good, though, right?”
“Being stronger is excellent. The less stress you put on your joints because you’re strengthening their support system, the better.”
“And the surgery?”
“I wouldn’t book it at this point. Now, I’m not saying it might not be necessary further down the road, but right now, based on the progress you’ve made since the last time I saw you, I wouldn’t do it.”
Ronnie sagged in relief. Though he hadn’t admitted it aloud, he’d been scared of getting laid up again. Jim would be more than happy to play nursemaid, but Ronnie was more interested in an equal partnership.
After Dr. Southard detailed what restrictions he thought Ronnie should follow on the job, he gestured toward the brace. “Wear it while you’re working, but when you’re not on the clock, I want you to start walking without it. It’s going to hurt some at first, and if it gets to be too much, put the brace back on, but see if you can push through the pain. We’ll schedule your next appointment for a month from now, and you can tell me how it goes. Maybe we can get rid of it for good next time.”
“Yes, sir!” It was better news than hearing about the surgery. He was still floating when he got out to the waiting room and found Jim nervously tapping his foot.
“Well?” Jim asked.
Ronnie beamed. “You are about to have the best damn farmhand you have ever seen.”
* * * *
Jim kept looking for a window of opportunity to make the suggestion, but dinner came and went, and Grandpa asked for Ronnie’s help with the chickens since they’d been gone all day, and he was stuck staring at the clock as the sun was going down, wondering if this was fate’s way of telling him not to push his luck. After all, it’d been a good day, all things considered. Ronnie received great news from the doctor, and they had time to be together on the drive to and from Lincoln without having to worry about censoring themselves because of an audience. It had felt like old times wrapped up with a little bit of new. Maybe the fact Jim couldn’t get things out of his head was a sign, as long they didn’t get in the way of the progress they’d made.
Except when Ronnie came back inside, smelling of the coop and glowing from the sun, Jim forgot all about signs and doubts. He stepped in before Grandpa found another job to take Ronnie away. “You need to wash up,” he announced.
Ronnie sniffed at his shoulder. “I’ve been spending too much time with the chickens. This smells normal to me.”
Grandpa glanced at the clock. “Bathroom’s all yours. My programs are on.”
When Ronnie moved to follow Grandpa out of the kitchen, Jim caught his arm. “Actually, I was thinking we could go for a swim. We didn’t get down to the river all summer.” Now that school had started up again, this might be their only chance. Winter would come along quick now.
“I haven’t been to the river at all since I got back,” Ronnie corrected.
“And now you’ve got permission to go without your brace once in a while. What better way than to go swimming? You can’t jar it when you’re in the water.”
“Unless you decide to monkey around.”
Jim edged closer and pitched his voice so Grandpa wouldn’t hear it. “How about I promise to keep my monkeying around to those parts of you that can take it?”
Ronnie’s nostrils flared. It was a relief to see he wasn’t averse to the idea, though after their conversation in the car, Jim had hoped for the best.
“You sure?”
“More than.”
“It’ll be dark by the time we get there.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we both have a swimming buddy, then.”
Five minutes later, they were in the Ford, rumbling down the road, smiling like it was Christmas. Jim was too excited to get hard at the prospect yet, but he had a feeling that the second he finally touched Ronnie the way he wanted, all of that would change in an instant.
It was more like dusk when they pulled up to a deserted section of the river, the horizon a brilliant burnt orange before it melted into the purpling night sky. Jim wanted privacy, and though they’d get it once the sun was completely gone, he didn’t want to have to wait any longer than he already had.
With trees blocking the view from the road, he stripped down to his underwear while Ronnie sat down on a rock and fiddled with the brace. They’d been in too much of a hurry to take it off before they left. When Jim straightened, though, he found Ronnie’s attention on him, not his leg.
“What?” he said, suddenly self-conscious.
Ronnie shook his head, but a smile crept across his face. “Nothing. Just enjoying how good you look.”
Compliments sounded better from Ronnie. They always seemed genuine. With a playful grin, Jim decided to take a risk and shoved his underwear down his legs, too. His cock was hardening fast, a fact Ronnie noticed if his widening eyes were anything to go by, so he turned on his heel and ran into the water before he lost his nerve.
Ronnie was slower to join him. From the middle of the river, Jim watched Ronnie get undressed. He’d seen most of the scars before. He didn’t care about those. But silhouetted in the darkening sky, the sculptured lines of the body he’d earned while in service stole Jim’s breath.
Ronnie was beautiful. Now, then, and always.
Anxious to get Ronnie in the water, Jim called out, “Any time this century, man!”
As he laid his shorts over the rock he’d been sitting on, Ronnie flipped him off.
Jim laughed and splashed water in his direction, though it made it nowhere near the shore. “You’re just afraid I’ll outswim you again.”
“You never outswam me.” The one garment he was quick to remove was his white underwear, though Jim got a great look at the curve of a muscled ass cheek before he turned to start wading into the water. The dark shadow of his bush drew Jim’s gaze downward, but any decent sight of his prick was spoiled by the rising water. “I let you win most of the time because it made it easier to put up with you.”
“That sounds like a dare.”
“Nope. Statement of fact.”
“Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?”
“That would require me having money to do that.” Ronnie dived forward as the water reached his waist, disappearing beneath the surface. It was too dark now to see well. The best Jim could do was watch for ripples to see where Ronnie might come back up. Only a few seconds passed before Ronnie emerged a foot in front of him, not nearly long enough for J
im to worry. “I’ll make you a bet for something else, though.”
“Name it.”
Ronnie twisted around, examining the shore. He pointed a dripping finger toward a curve in the river a hundred yards away. “First one to the bend gets the loser as a personal slave for a whole day.”
Jim grimaced. “That’s dumb.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking more along the line of a kiss.”
A flash of Ronnie’s smile gleamed in the dusky night. “That’s assuming we won’t be kissing anyway, and we both know that’s going to happen. You made promises.”
“I don’t remember actually calling it a promise.”
“When did you turn into a tease?”
“It’s called making it last as long as possible.”
“Sounds like a case of blue balls to me.”
Banter like this would’ve been impossible even just a week ago. Jim took it as the gift it was.
Then made it even better by sweeping his arm across the surface to douse Ronnie in river water.
A spluttering Ronnie fell back into the river. When he came back up again, he was farther away, aimed in the direction of the bend.
“Go!” he shouted, then shot forward, his long arms stroking effortlessly through the water.
“No fair!” He threw himself into the race, but it was already too late. Ronnie had a head start. The best he could do was push as hard as he could to keep the margin of his loss as minimal as possible.
Ronnie was laughing at him when he came to a panting stop.
“No fair,” he repeated, spitting out the water that dripped into his mouth. “That one doesn’t count.”
“You’re the one who tried to cheat first.”
“Splashing is not cheating!”
“And neither is going faster than your slow ass.” He beckoned Jim closer with a crook of his finger. “Now pay up.”
Oh, no, he wasn’t going to make it that easy for Ronnie. This was the most carefree they’d been since high school.
