Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Want to talk about what’s on your mind?” she asks sweetly.
“Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll get over it.”
“Leighton might not,” a voice comes from behind me.
For a second, I’m excited by the deep-toned voice, because it’s familiar, but then it clicks that Whit would never call himself Leighton. And he doesn’t talk about himself in the third person, anyway.
I turn to find Campbell sitting where his brother usually does. His stature is similar to Whit’s, his hair a few shades darker, but the resemblance makes my chest twinge.
I glance around the room at the customers here tonight—the typical diverse variety of people and pairings—and wonder if Campbell knows this is a queer-friendly space.
“What can I get you?” I ask him.
“IPA, thanks.”
I’m trying to work out his tone. It’s definitely not as friendly as it has been the last few times we’ve seen each other.
I slide him his drink with a smile, but he doesn’t return it.
My shoulders slump. “We had a fight.”
Campbell scoffs. “Yeah, worked that much out. He’s been moping around and treating everyone like shit, really.”
I’m genuinely concerned. “That doesn’t sound like Whit at all.”
“It’s not.” Campbell leans forward on the bar. “What will it take for you to contact him?”
“Uh, umm … I thought giving him his space would be best. I figured if I stayed away, maybe he’d see meeting with the guy from Scranton is a good idea.”
“So, you want him to leave.” It’s not a question.
“No, I don’t, but I happen to agree with your parents. He should go out and experience as much as he can. He’s lucky that his plans for the farm will always be there for him.”
Campbell takes a sip of his drink and purses his lips.
“What?” I ask at his hesitance.
“What’s your deal? I know you said at brunch that you were injured, but why are you working here?” He looks around the space with an analytical eye. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
“I like it here,” I argue. “It’s easy, the tips are good—”
“Hmm.”
I start getting frustrated. “Can you say what you came here to say so I can get back to work?”
“I’m thinking you don’t really have a leg to stand on, and I can see why my brother is pissed.”
“What?”
“You can’t exactly tell him what he should do about his future, when you can’t even work out your own.”
A big fuck you is on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn’t come out. Because deep down, I know he’s right. Both he and Whit are right.
Campbell finishes off his drink and stands. He reaches for his wallet, but I put up my hand to stop him.
“It’s on me.”
He puts the cash in the tip jar instead. “For what it’s worth? Leighton doesn’t see going to Scranton as the big opportunity you do. He knows the farm will always be there, and we can manage without him for a few years. Gordo could step up into his place easily. But to my brother, that would be exactly like you putting your life on hold to work in a bar when you know your destiny is hockey, whatever form that might take. Mom and Dad can’t see that, just like you can’t.”
Campbell walks away before I can stop him.
His words hit me square in the chest.
I want to call Whit and apologize and to drop the whole argument, but I can’t. Because I can’t go back to him without proving to him that I understand where he’s coming from.
Campbell ripped off the lid to that can of worms I didn’t want to open, and now I have to clean that shit up.
As soon as I get off work, I send Whit a text. It’s not much, but it’s all I can think to do.
I’m sorry.
26
Whit
When people hear I’m a dairy farmer, they automatically think I milk cows all day. Yeah, no. Machines do that. Most of my time is spent fixing fences because cows are dumb fucks and will damage that shit every chance they get.
One of our working girls lets out a loud moo beside me as if she hears my thoughts. She’s one of our best milkers, but her age means we’ll likely retire her soon.
“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m out here because of you.”
She makes a whiny, grunting noise that reminds me of Rainn, and I get mad all over again.
“You’re the one who did this!” I point to the fence.
She huffs.
“Please tell me the cow isn’t answering back.” My brother comes up on my other side.
“Ha, ha. So funny.”
“Take enough anger out on the post yet?” Campbell asks.
I look to find I’ve hammered it into the ground more than I really needed to. “Maybe.”
Campbell shoos me out of the way, taking my tools with him. “I have an idea, and you’re not going to like it.”