Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
We ended the tour of the farmhouse in the kitchen. By then, I’d already felt like Brett and I were close friends, laughing and joking as easily as I did with his son. He was an incredibly kind man, obvious not only through his perma-grin but through his words. Always offering and complimenting something or other, making me as comfortable as if I’d been born and raised just next door.
“Your home is beautiful,” I said, admiring the white marble countertops and dark evergreen backsplash. “Truly.”
“Thank you. It’s my pride and joy. Besides this pride and joy, of course.” He put his arms around his son and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. The display of affection melted my heart, almost making me cry on the spot.
I held it together. Ryan motioned out toward the back, through a window above the sink. I could see the rest of the farm stretching outward for an impossible distance.
“Let’s go for a walk. I can show you the horses and the pigs.” Ryan grabbed my hand, fingers twining through mine. Again, a very boyfriend thing to do. I glanced at his dad, who seemed completely unbothered by the fact that his son was holding hands with another man. That idea—a supportive father, mother—it was alien to me. Like I’d stepped off a spaceship and was making first contact with the native species.
“It was great meeting you, Elijah. I’m making some barbecue for dinner if you boys want to stick around?”
“That’d be great,” I said, answering for us both.
Ryan and I walked out through the back door, stepping onto a beautiful backyard, surrounded by fields of corn and wheat and bushes of bright red and pink roses. There was a cobblestone area with lounge chairs and a table and fire pit, next to a chicken coop that stretched the entire length of the house. I could hear oinks and clucks and moos, all noises that reminded me of being on my grandpa’s farm when I was a kid.
Before my family self-combusted on me.
“Whatcha think?” Ry asked me as we walked down a well-trod path. The White Mountains appeared in the distance against the sky like dark brushstrokes against a blue canvas.
“I’m in love.”
“With my dad?”
“No, dumb-dumb,” I said, laughing. “With all of this.” I motioned all around us. “The farm, this life, your family. There’s a calmness here that I really needed to feel right now. I barely slept last night, but I feel brand new just from being here. Don’t know what it is.”
“Shit, you are in love with my dad.” His turn to laugh and tease me with a hand on the back of my neck, squeezing. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way every time I come over. The peacefulness seeps right into your soul. Feels like putting aloe on a burn.”
“That’s exactly it,” I said as we continued walking, the farmhouse growing smaller behind us, eventually disappearing as we turned and entered a wall of sawgrass.
“Check this out. It’s my favorite spot. If you think the farm’s peaceful, wait until you see this.” Ryan sped up, walking at a light trot. I kept up with him, the sawgrass opening and depositing us in a clearing where a small pond sat. Huge goldfish swam slow laps around the edge, glittering under the clear water, lily pads floating above them like green clouds. There was a bench surrounded by the same gargantuan hydrangeas that were at the front of the house.
“Holy shit,” I said through a shocked exhale. “I’d never leave if I lived here.”
“I have a hard time leaving sometimes.” He wasn’t looking at the pond or the flowers or the fields. His eyes were pinned on me, an endless blue that penetrated me like a pin through a balloon. “Whenever I have really shitty days, I come here to clear my head.”
We sat on the bench, cushioned by fluffy teal pillows. The goldfish must have sensed us since they started to collect at the edge of the pond, their mouths popping out of the water in O shapes, searching for food.
“I can see why.” I let my leg rest against Ryan’s. He wore a pair of black shorts that cut off four inches above the knee and showed plenty of juicy thigh. I bounced my leg, mostly enjoying the feeling of my skin rubbing on his.
“When life gets shitty for me, I tend to just expect it. I don’t even think twice about it. I just ride the wreck.”
Ryan looked at me again. Even if I wasn’t watching him, I could sense whenever his eyes landed on me. “What’s that mean?”
I took in a deep breath, looking out at the field of sawgrass gently swaying in the soft breeze, carrying the scent of soil and wood and farm. The sun beat bright and hot, but I didn’t feel it much.