The Farmer's Son

Chapter 22 Exes Mark the Spot

Bright morning sunlight beamed in through the open window, dust motes drifting in the slanting rays stirred by warm breezes bringing the scent of hot earth and sharp greenery. Fresh golden light reflected off the bare floorboards, shining onto a pair of overturned boots, then up the side of the bed to the figure lying diagonally across the top on his stomach.

Stirring at the bright light on his face, Alan's brows creased over closed eyes and he turned his head into the pillow. The scent of sweat and pine soap filled his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, the smell invoking semi sleep images of sweat slick black hair, twinkling blue eyes, a crooked smile flashing dimples, a firm torso flexing beneath a fitted t-shirt, and strong forearms below rolled back sleeves. A light moan escaped his throat as he stretched and shifted against the mattress. His eyes slowly fluttered opened, and in the sunshine looked across a bed that was not his.

Memories from the night before flashing in his head, Alan closed his eyes and rolled onto his back, raising a hand to his face with a light groan. His head felt like the two halves of his brain trying to go their separate ways, his mouth was dry and fuzzy like cotton, the taste of stale, cheap alcohol churning his stomach. He was just sitting up and trying not to throw up when the bedroom door opened.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Ray said, walking in. He came around the side of the bed and held out a glass of water and rattled a bottle of aspirin at Alan, who reached out to paw blindly at the noisemaker.

"Shhhhh," Alan groaned, rubbing his face and covering his eyes. "Just, shh."

Ray laughed as he took a seat next to him on the bed. "Not so great at the dismount, are you?" he said, shaking out two small pills into his palm. "Next time I'm going to lock you in the garage."

"There won't be a next time," Alan said, swinging his legs to the floor. "I'm done."

"That's what they all say," Ray said.

Sitting with his elbows on his knees and head hung low, a palm with two white pills came into his view. Taking the pills and water from Ray, Alan downed them both, holding the water in his mouth to wash away the taste and moisten his dry tongue and throat.

"Thanks," he said afterwards, with a slight cough. "And sorry. For the trouble."

"I was the reason for that, though, wasn't I?" Ray said.

When Alan looked at him then looked away, Ray smiled. "Driving a man to drink over me is a first," he continued, taking the empty glass back from Alan. "I have to admit, I don't hate it. Kind of want you to get into a bar fight over me now. You know, make a girl feel really special," he finished with a wink.

Alan, one elbow on his knee and forehead lowered to his hand, glanced at the laughing Ray from under his fingers. "You're really bold this morning," he said.

"Just the way you like me," Ray said, with a smile that made his eyes squint and twinkle.

Alan scoffed and shook his head, turning it back into his hand. But a smile curved his lips, because, of course, that really was the way he liked him.

"Not sure how much you remember from last night," Ray said, leaning off the bed to put the glass and pills on the windowsill. "Should I just start over? I met Joel when I was fifteen—"

"You don't have to go that far back," Alan said, cutting him off with an upraised hand.

"Sure?"

When Alan looked up at him, Ray smiled, looking more relaxed and—dare Alan believe—happier than he had in days.

"I will," Ray said, "if you want me to."

Having spoken his secret, Ray no longer had anything weighing him down, or holding him back, and it showed. He'd revealed the darkest part of himself and been reassured that Alan was still on his side, and at this point in his life, that was everything to him. Alan saw all that in the clear blue eyes and open, relaxed face, and he sighed softly and smiled.