by Devney Perry
Anger. Anger and I were old friends.
“I’m so mad at him.” I kicked at a rock by my shoe. “Grrr! I feel like punching something.”
Silas took a large step away. “Well, before you decide that something is me, let’s get out of here.” He jerked his head back toward the Drummonds’ house. “Come on. I think I’ve got something that could help.”
“What is this place?” I asked Silas as he flipped through his keys for the right one to unlock a padlock.
“It’s our Quonset.”
“Huh.” I muttered, never having heard that word before.
The Quonset was a windowless, semicircular building made of corrugated steel. It looked like a giant can of vegetables, sans label, had been buried halfway in the dirt. The sliding doors on the front had to be at least twelve feet tall, and the peak of the arch had to be nearly twenty.
After we’d left the Drummond farm, I had followed Silas back to the ranch, but instead of stopping at the barn as I’d expected, we’d kept driving down a gravel road to the Quonset. I had no idea why Silas would bring me here, but my curiosity was piqued.
With the correct key in hand, Silas unlocked the padlock on the doors and slid one open so we could step inside.
“Hang here,” he said as I stepped into the dark room. “I’ll hit the lights.”
The smell of oil and dirt filled my nose as Silas walked along the front wall to a light panel. With each switch, a row of hanging florescent lights above us flickered on. After six rows, the building was as bright as if we were in broad daylight.
“As you can see, this is where we keep all of our tractors and equipment.”
“Yes, I see that.” I followed Silas as he weaved past a plethora of machines. Some were big, others small, but all were green. “Do you guys have stock in John Deere?”
Silas laughed and kept walking, leading me to our destination at the back of the building. A corner had been cleared except for a black, heavy bag hanging by a thick chain from the ceiling.
“Here you go,” he said. “You want to punch something? Punch away.”
“Cool.” I smiled and walked up to the bag, pushing it gently so it swung. “I’ve never hit one of these before.”
“Well, now’s your chance.”
I had been so angry and hurt at Wes’s grave but the long drive out to the ranch had given me a chance to settle. I was in a better mental place now, but still, I wanted to give this punching bag thing a try, if for no other reason than to see what it was like. “What do I do?”
Silas stepped up to the bag and nodded me over. “Stand like me. With your left leg forward.”
“Like this?” I said, mirroring his stance.
“Yep. Now hands up.” In a flash, he threw a left jab into the bag. It hit with a light pop and the bag swayed. “Make tight fists, otherwise it will hurt.”
“Okay.” I clenched my fists hard.
He reached out with both hands and stopped the bag from swinging. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I smiled nervously then let my hand fly. My knuckles didn’t sink more than a centimeter into the black leather and the bag didn’t move. “Ouch.” I shook out my fist. “That’s a lot harder than it looks. And really heavy.”
Silas smiled, standing back and crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for me to start again.
“Okay. Here goes.” Getting back in my stance, I made sure my fist was as tight as I could make it and then punched again. This time the bag started to swing. “I did it!”
“Good. Now do a jab,” he said, stepping up to demonstrate, “and then a hook with your right.”
He did it twice, once in slow motion and once in real time, so I could memorize the movement.
“Got it.” I threw my punches and smiled when they hit. This felt good. Really good. Like, I was going to buy one of these bags tomorrow and hang it in my garage, good.
“More?” Silas asked.
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
For the next hour, Silas showed me more punch combinations and a few elbow and knee techniques. By the time we were done, I was sweating, my knuckles were red and puffy, and the endorphins from the exercise had turned my mood around. Well, that and just being with Silas.
It was hard to believe I could be this happy after how my day had started and the drama at Wes’s grave. More proof that Silas was good for my soul. He always knew what I needed, even when I didn’t.
“Thank you. I needed this.”
“You’re welcome.” He walked over to a mini fridge and pulled out two waters. After tossing me mine, he opened his own and tipped it up to his lips. As he gulped it down, I stared at his corded throat and bobbing Adam’s apple. The sweat on his skin glistened and his damp T-shirt clung to his chest.
Holy hell.
Everything about this man was sexy. Everything.
What I wouldn’t give for him to want me back.
Before Silas could catch me staring, I snapped out of my trance and opened my water, taking a few long swallows and letting the cold chill spread down my throat.
“More?” Silas asked, going to the fridge for another water.
“No, thanks. I’m good.” I waited for him to take another long drink before asking, “Did you learn all of that in the army?”
“Yeah. Me and some of the guys in my squad started boxing as a way to keep in shape. I set this up when I got home so I had a place to go when I needed to burn off some steam.”
“Does that happen a lot, you needing to burn off steam?”
He shrugged. “Depends on the day. Lately I’ve been so dog-tired by the time I’m done working, I just go home and crash.”
“Still no luck in hiring some help, huh?”
He shook his head and walked over to a tool bench, jumping up to sit on its top. “Nope. No help, and Dad’s in charge, so that means I’m fucked.”
“He’s in charge? I thought you were running this place together.”
He scoffed. “So did I, but since Dad doesn’t listen to a damn thing I say, it sure doesn’t feel like we’re in this together.”
“I’m sorry.” I hated to hear him sound so bitter.
His eyes softened. “Don’t be. I shouldn’t be piling my shit on you anyway.”
“I don’t mind.” I walked over to a stack of tires and took a seat. “Tell me. I want to know.”
Silas
Damn, she was easy to talk to. I had forgotten that.
I didn’t open up to just anyone, only those I trusted, and since that list of people could fit on a sticky note, I kept a lot of things to myself.
But Lis?
When she was sitting on those tires with her face flushed and her hair pulled back, I’d tell her anything.
“Dad is having a hard time passing the baton. He’s no different than a lot of old farmers and ranchers. The old way is the only way, you know?”
She nodded. “He’s set in his ways.”
“To a fault. I can’t imagine it’s easy letting go of something he’s poured his blood, sweat and tears into for his entire life, and I’m not unsympathetic to how hard it is to let go. His own merit and hard work made this ranch a success. But the problem is, he’s robbing me of the chance to do the same.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“I’ve tried but we always end up in a fight.”
Dad and I been having the same argument for decades. I’d pitch him a new idea, he’d shoot it down without consideration, and we’d both start yelling. He always had an excuse as to why my idea wouldn’t work. Before I went into the army, he’d tell me I was too young and didn’t know better. After I came home from Iraq, he’d say I’d been gone too long and didn’t know how things were done here anymore. These days, it was taking him longer to come up with excuses, but he’d eventually think of some bullshit to throw my way.
The truth was, he didn’t like change.
“What about your mom?” Felicity asked. “Could she help by talking to h
im?”
I smiled. “Mom always says that Dad has two wives, her and the ranch. She jokes that he’d let her go before the Lucky Heart and I don’t know if she’s wrong.”
Her beautiful blue eyes widened. “Yikes.”
“It’ll work itself out eventually.” Dad wasn’t getting younger, and worst-case scenario, he’d keep control until he was too old to run the ranch and then he’d be forced to turn it over. I just hated that, at this point, the worst-case scenario was looking like the most likely scenario.
Time for a subject change. “Thanks for listening.”
She smiled. “Always.”
“How are you? You had a rough day.”
She looked to her feet as she considered her answer. “I think I’m okay.” She looked up and I studied her face to make sure it was the truth. “I feel . . . different. Lighter, maybe? I don’t know if that’s the right description, but I feel like a weight is off my shoulders. I carried a lot of guilt over that party and Wes’s meth addiction, and I’m hurt that he lied to me. I thought we loved each other enough not to lie. It’s going to take some time to come to terms with everything, but I’ll get there.”
I nodded. “Yeah. You’ll get there.” I’d do everything in my power to see she did.
“I just wish I’d had the chance to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For, um, what we did. That night.” She blushed and looked back to her feet.
“Oh.” She meant fucking me. She felt bad and wanted to apologize to Wes for fucking me. She still thought that making love to me that night had been a mistake. Which really fucking stung, because I thought that night had been one of the best in my life.
I took a long drink of my water, counting the bubbles as they popped in the bottle, and reined in the pain. What I really wanted to do was throw the bottle across the room and go five minutes balls-out on the heavy bag. But where Lis was concerned, I always tried to keep a hold on my temper.
“What were you doing at the farm anyway?” she asked.
“Dropping off a check. We bought some hay from Jack, and Mom forgot to stick it in the mail. I needed a break so I decided just to drive it over. I was coming out of their barn and saw you walking up to Wes’s grave.”
“Why’d you follow me?”
Because I want to be around you all the time. Because this distance I’ve tried to keep is killing me. Because I need to know if you will ever stop loving Wes.
No. The truth would be too much for today. “I just figured that wasn’t going to be easy for you.”
She smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We sat quietly for a while, listening to the small noises in the shop. The lights above us were humming, the air vent rattled as the wind blew outside, and the utility sink dripped slowly.
It was nice to sit for a change. I couldn’t remember the last time I wasn’t rushing off to do the next thing on my to-do list. And it was especially nice to just sit with Felicity ten feet away.
I had promised myself I’d wait until she was in a better spot before making my play, until she was over Wes. I didn’t want to break that promise, but I couldn’t keep avoiding her either. I was working myself to the bone, exhausting myself, so that at the end of the day I wouldn’t have the energy to drive to her house and carry her to bed.
There had to be a middle ground. A way for us to be more than friends—I fucking hate that word—but less than lovers. We needed time to just be together, but without sex to complicate things. I wanted to own her heart, not just her body.
Today was probably a horrible day to approach this, with all the drama from Wes’s grave, but I was going to be a selfish dick and do it anyway. I opened my mouth to start talking, but she spoke up first.
“Silas?”
“Hmm?” My eyes found hers.
“Did I mess us up with that kiss in your truck?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Her spine relaxed from stick straight and she sighed. “Good. Do you think we can try this friendship thing one last time?”
“I don’t know if friendship is ever going to work with us.”
“Oh.” Her frame deflated and a flash of pain washed over her face. “Okay.”
Fuck. I needed to hurry up and explain before her wall of defenses slammed down and blocked me out. Hopping off the bench, I crossed the cement floor and stood in front of her.
“That’s not what I meant.” Her head tipped way back to find my face. “I’ll always be your friend, Lis. But I’m fucking tired of saying that’s all we are.”
“What?”
I’d shocked her, that was certain, but it was a hopeful shock. This might just work after all, you lucky bastard. Bending down, I set my hands gently on her neck so I could speak right in her face. I needed her to hear me, loud and clear.
“How about we stop labeling our relationship? Stop trying to fit us into a mold. Let’s just enjoy the time we spend together and see what develops. Okay?”
She blinked at me once, then again. Her mouth opened but she closed it without saying a word. Then another blink.
“Nod if you understand me.”
She nodded and I smiled. When her breath hitched, my cock jerked. Before I started thinking with my dick, I needed to back off. Dropping my hands and standing tall, I helped her off the tires.
“Now that we’ve got that settled,” I said, “I need to get back to work. When you drive away, are you going to twist this all around in your head?”
“Hey!” She poked me in the stomach. “I don’t twist things around in my head.”
There was that fire. I’d been worried for a second that she’d smothered it. “You do twist things around. You have an incredible tendency to overcomplicate shit.”
“I do n—” I pressed a finger against her lips, silencing her protest. Her blue eyes narrowed but I didn’t drop my finger.
“Can you just let this happen? However it happens?”
She frowned, but nodded so I let my finger fall from her soft, pink lips.
“Don’t analyze every word I just said. Just know that I want to spend time with you and in no way did that kiss last month mess us up. It was the highlight of my night. Or it was until you bolted out of my truck before giving me the chance to explain why I stopped.”
She huffed. “What was I supposed to do? You rejected m—”
Back went the finger. This time I got a death glare so I dropped my finger before she bit it off. “I didn’t reject you. I just didn’t want us to fall back into an old routine. We’re taking it slow this time around. Are you with me?”
“Yes.” She pursed her lips to hide a smile, but I still caught it.
“Good.” I grinned, placing a light kiss on her forehead, and then turned to walk out.
I made short work of shutting off the lights and locking up the shop. I opened her car door for her to climb in, then hopped in my truck to lead her back to the main road. Pulling over to the side and waving, she honked as she blew past me toward town.
Pretty soon, I hoped to be done watching her taillights.
Felicity
What a weird day.
This morning, I’d thought I was responsible for my ex-boyfriend’s meth addiction and that the man I loved wanted to cut me out of his life.
Now it was late afternoon and everything was different.
It was lucky that Silas had been at the farm earlier. How many more years would I have spent holding onto my own guilt had he not told me the truth about when Wes had started using?
Forever.
I would have carried that guilt with me forever.
Now it was gone and I felt lighter than I had in years.
I drove from the ranch to town, passing the side street that led to my house as I continued onto the highway and back to the Drummond farm.
I hoped that Jack and Annie wouldn’t mind me coming back, but I had one last thing to say to Wes and I didn’t want to wait.
I had to do this one last thing, and then I could let him go.
Turning off the highway, I slowly bumped along the gravel drive, past the Drummonds’ rambler and up the hill to the oak tree.
The sun set early this time of year and the temperature had dropped. I was shivering as I walked to Wes’s grave, but what I had to do wouldn’t take long.
“Hey. Me again,” I told his tombstone. “I was mad earlier and I forgot to tell you one last thing.”
I took a deep breath and said, “Thank you.”
When the tears came, I just let them slide gently down my cheeks.
“Thank you for being all of my firsts. Thank you for being the first boy I ever loved. You were good to me, Wes. I’m sorry how everything turned out at the end, and that Silas and I hurt you, but I hope you know that you were incredibly special and I’ll never forget all of the wonderful times we had together.”
I kissed my fingertips and placed them on the cold, granite tombstone. “Rest in peace.”
“You’re in trouble,” I said, answering Sabrina’s call on my car’s media panel.
“I know. Sorry. It’s this story. I’ve been undercover for the last two weeks.”
“Can you tell me about it yet?”
“Negative.”
I shook my head. “Are you at least being safe?”
“Um, define safe.”
“Not funny, Sabrina. I’m worried.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Hmm,” I grumbled. “What are you doing tonight?”
It was Christmas Eve, and one of our long-running traditions had been to spend it together. These last couple of years I’d been back in Prescott for the holidays, and though I was happy to be with my family, I’d also missed that special time with my best friend. Our typical night had always included drinking and eating our body weight in junk food while watching musicals and singing along at the top of our lungs.
“My Christmas Eve plans are sad,” she said. “I’ll be drinking alone. Watching Chicago alone. Missing you terribly. Alone.”
“Here’s a crazy idea. Hop on a plane and come visit me. There’s usually an early morning flight to Bozeman. I’ll drive over and pick you up. We’ll have the entire hour drive to talk and then you can meet my family at Christmas dinner.”
