Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
His eyebrows knitted together. “What facade?”
“The one I have to use around here.” I shrugged. “I might’ve come out, but that doesn’t mean I can freely express myself, not after I ruined so many things.” My gaze naturally swept toward the Carmichael Ranch beyond the door. “Besides, there are plenty of people who are still uncomfortable with my sexuality.”
When he frowned, my stomach constricted. I certainly didn’t want any pity. But I supposed it was better than disgust or disappointment. I didn’t know why I had even voiced all that out loud anyway. But Julian was pretty easy to talk to, and we had covered plenty of topics the last couple of weeks alone in the barn. Why not the elephant in the room—my sexuality.
“I get it, actually,” he said in a solemn voice as he hooked a machine up to the next cow.
My shoulders stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“You know, staying under the radar. Especially around people who might not understand or who have the power to hurt you.”
My breath hitched because he was exactly right. That was how it felt, and I was pretty exhausted from having to keep it all in. Keep all my ducks in a row. Even after I came out, which felt like instant fucking relief, like I was finally allowed to be myself, I was still paying for the admission every day. I didn’t dare speak freely around anyone in my life, which was probably why finding a hookup in a gay bar a couple of towns away was always such a release. Because it was more than sexual. It was emotional and psychological to ultimately be yourself in a safe space, even if the safe space was with strangers.
I felt Julian’s gaze burning into me, and when I lifted my eyes to his baby blues, the air around us seemed to thicken, like the molecules were banging together in a perfect storm.
What in the world was happening? Had Julian just admitted something to me, or was it only wishful thinking? What would it be like to have a friend to confide in? To speak freely with?
Just as I opened my mouth to ask him for clarification, the barn door swung wide and Sienna stepped inside. “Good mornin’,” she said in a cheery greeting.
“Mornin’,” we both mumbled, our gazes swinging in opposite directions as if we’d been caught doing something unnatural. Christ, ridiculous. We hadn’t even really said anything to each other, but it felt like volumes had been spoken at the same time.
Except, I wasn’t even sure about what.
I felt clumsy, my limbs thick with awareness as Julian and I maneuvered around each other to finish our chores. Which were really my chores. Since when had I started thinking we were in it together? He could quit anytime he wanted.
“Hey, Julian,” Sienna said as she worked with the goats on the other side of the free stall. “I wondered if you wanted to come to the Carmichael Ranch with us this weekend.” She glanced uneasily over at me as if I’d dispute her idea or something.
“My family tries to have family dinners most Sundays,” I explained. “It’s a way for them to see Ainsley and for us to…stay connected, I guess?”
Sienna shot me a sorrowful glance, one that Julian seemed to note as he looked between us. I wasn’t about to go there with them, not now. He would figure out easily enough how tense it was between me and my family.
Sienna continued, “Mom—I mean, Mrs. Carmichael—asked, since you’re staying with us this summer.” I tensed briefly, noting how she tried so hard to break old habits no matter how many times I told her it was okay. My parents would always be in her life despite our divorce. “But it’s all right if you want to pass or give it more time.”
“Or if you feel like takin’ off and doing your own thing,” I interjected. “You certainly don’t need to hang out with us on the weekends.”
The weekends tended to be laxer around here, and since Marta and George were off, we definitely took it easy instead of making it feel like the farm was all about work. Which it sort of was, but we didn’t have to make it feel like that. We fended for ourselves with meals—even though Marta always tried to leave us leftovers—and sometimes we went into town to do things that were less outdoorsy. Like catching a movie or having dinner at a local diner. Ainsley was usually involved in some sort of activity during the school year, but lately with her anxiety about leaving us, and since it was summer, it was quieter around here. Which suited me just fine.
“I’d actually like that,” Julian said. “Thanks for asking.”
9
Julian
“We usually head over to the Carmichael Ranch late afternoon,” Sienna reminded me after dinner as I helped them in the stables. It’d taken me a bit of time to feel comfortable enough to stand closer to the stalls, though I wasn’t sure where my uneasiness was coming from. Most likely from stories my mom told me about never really taking to horses, despite her sister and parents loving it. I remembered visiting Wyoming as a kid and steering clear, possibly because the horses seemed enormous at the time. But what was my excuse now?