Sokeefe AU: The Farmer's Daughter

Part Twelve

Keefe was having a hard time deciding whether he was enjoying himself or wanting to die from humiliation.

He sat at the table, across from Sophie, next to Edaline, Grady at the head of it. They said grace and started eating.

Edaline had made some sort of human breakfast food. It was flat and pale, with butter and a sticky topping she called syrup. Three were stacked on his plate, and from the look of it, he wasn't really sure if it was edible.

"They're pancakes," she told him, gently, when she noticed him picking at it.

He nodded, flushing, and shoveled the food into his mouth without any more hesitation. He didn't want to seem stupid or scared.

They ate in silence. Occasionally Edaline would try to spike a conversation, commenting on the weather or something about her day, but her attempts weathered out and died, miserably, alone.

Keefe sat there, chewing on his--surprisingly good--pancakes. He felt like part of himself was on display, bright and uncomfortable and all too real.

They had seen him breakdown, yesterday. His head hurt and his heart ached with embarrassment just thinking about it.

Why had he reacted like that?

Why was he so stupid?

Why did he---

"You okay?" Sophie asked, softly, staring at him from her place across the table. Concern leaked into her eyes and out again. "You just got super pale."

He nodded, like the lie would be made less wrong if it wasn't spoken aloud, like the Devil didn't capture sins if the person committing them was desperate enough. "Just thinking," he told her, and he forced another bite.

"Boy," Grady said, and his voice was a little too loud, tied with some sort of emotion. Keefe felt himself stiffen, involuntarily, his spine going rigid.

Edaline noticed. Took his hand, rubbed small circles into it.

He hated that. Hated the way someone's voice, no matter how gentle, when it was directed at him, made him freeze. Made his heart stopped. His palms sweat, and his stomach drop to his feet in something like fear.

It made him weak. It made him stupid.

"You don't have to work today." Grady's face had gone soft, cutting through Keefe's thoughts. "It . . . was a tough day for all of us, yesterday."

Keefe nodded. What else could he do? Dwelling in what happened would only bring back the heartache, the hurt, the pain in knowing that no matter what he did, there was absolutely no way he could have stopped it.

And it killed him.

"I think I want to work," he said, and his voice sounded low and chipped, even to his own muffled ears. "I think . . . I need a distraction."

Sophie's eyes snapped to his, like she recognized the need. Her expression was soft and tired and sad, but, most of all, it was familiar. "Yeah. I get that."

She smiled at him. Not a bright, everything-will-be-okay smile, but a tiny, I-know-it's-hard grin, her eyes turned up, her face painted with concern.

He tried to smile back.

An imparter rang, and everyone jumped at the sudden noise. Keefe's ears started ringing, and it took him a moment to realize the sound was his coming from his own pocket.

Sheepishly, his fumbling fingers pulled out the device, looking at the screen.

His heart stalled.

It was his dad.