Cattle Stop by Kit Oliver

Chapter Fourteen

Cooper’s headpounds and his eyes feel scratchy as Whit steers the truck past Caroline’s house and the turn for the farm comes into view.

“I’ll go see how Penny’s doing with the milking,” Whit says as he parks in his usual spot next to Drew’s Jeep.

Crazy that they only left that morning, and here they are back again within the same day, afternoon light slanting over the barnyard and Socks strolling by with his typical unconcerned saunter.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” Cooper says.

Though when he gets inside the farmhouse kitchen, he just pulls open the fridge and stares at the carton of eggs and bottles of beers. Eat something,he tells himself. His head hurts. Probably not enough water, and really, that was too long a trip to make in one day.

Drew definitely would have to hire someone or see if there’s already deliveries traded between the market in Albany and down in the city. But still. That’s a problem that can be solved. Success, Cooper thinks, though he can’t even begin to get excited about it. He should make himself a snack, head out to the barn, and find Drew to smack him on the back. He pulls in a long breath and blows it out again, gently letting the fridge door fall shut.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Cooper closes his eyes, and the old, well-worn, desperate wish claws up his throat, that he’ll pull his phone out and find a text from his mom, So sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I’ll drive up to the farm and see you tonight, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But no, it’s Whit.

Penny finished everything and she likes her cupcake, he’s written.Cooper drops his phone on the counter. It buzzes again. Buttercup made it back, he says hi. Cooper locks the screen and flips the phone over, facedown.

A bird lands on the windowsill with a skitter of wings and a soft chirp against the screen before it flies away again. Outside, gravel crunches under truck tires. Someone’s here, but Whit doesn’t come inside.

Good, Cooper thinks. He picks up a snap pea from a full bowl on the counter and chews on it slowly. He left his work pants on the floor before leaving for the city, and they’re still lying upstairs in a crumpled heap. Cooper really fucking doesn’t want to hear about him making a mess in the bedroom from Whit.

Outside, there’s laughing, big and loud. That’s Drew’s laugh. His normal, goofy, too-noisy laugh that he makes when his face turns bright red and rivals his hair. Like a goose, Cooper told him once, and Drew had only laughed harder, until he snorted. There’re more voices than just Drew, Penny, and Whit now. He can hear the slam of a car door, Sadie’s tags jingling as she jogs around, and the rapid patter of Spanish.

Through the window, Cooper sees Drew with his head tipped back, his entire body shaking, lit up by the evening golden glow of summer. Beside him are Penny and Whit, and they’re all standing around a small sedan.

“The hell?” Cooper asks.

The screen door bangs open. Whit’s dad, Cooper registers, nearly dwarfed by an armful of boxes, though he manages to wave despite them.

“Cooper,” Luis says, dropping the boxes on the table as he comes inside and pulling Cooper into a long hug. “Cooper, Cooper, Cooper. We heard you were still in these parts. So good to see you.”

Diana, who’s walked in right behind, hugs Cooper as soon as Luis lets him go. Mrs. Whit’s Mom, Cooper had called her once, and she’d laughed like Whit never does, a tinkling chuckle, her smile creasing her eyes that look so much like Whit’s.

“You are here,” Diana says, stepping back to hold Cooper at arm’s length as the others file in. “And we’ve heard so much about all the changes to the farm. Penny just showed us the fence you boys are setting up.”

“Mom,” Whit says, shutting the door.

“We’d have come by sooner to say hi, but every time we started packing up these albums to bring over”—Diana nods at her husband, who’s already opening a box full of old photos—“well, it’s a bit distracting.”

“Just look at them.” Luis turns an album to show around the room. “Whit in that tuxedo. You clean up good.”

“I didn’t know they were coming,” Whit says. “Papá, please.”

“Is that prom?” Cooper takes the thick book and tips it toward the light. Whit in a tux, with Penny next to him in a shimmery purple dress, her hair swept up on top of her head, with curled bits hanging near her face.

“And graduation,” Luis says, flipping forward a page. “Look at him. Oh, we were so proud.”

Whit and Drew, Whit and Penny, Whit and Penny and Drew. Some others too, people Cooper half recognizes. Travis was on their football team, a freshman when Whit was a senior, and some of the girls on Penny’s lacrosse team, who used to come by the farm once in a while back when Cooper first started spending time here.

“I’ve got the box from high school,” Drew says, waving a picture toward Cooper. “And by high school, I mean Whit’s freshman year, and I’m keeping it.”

Penny opens an album as thick as her palm. “Please, that’s nothing on baby Whit. I mean—look at those curls. And those cheeks, oh my God, Whit.”

Whit touches his fingers to his forehead. “Guys.”

“I’ll raise you braces.” Drew slides a photo across the table toward Cooper. “What a looker, am I right?”

Whit crosses his arms. “Everyone else had them off by ninth grade.”

“Coop, tell us honestly, would you or wouldn’t you have fallen desperately in love with this handsome gentleman if you’d known him in high school?” Drew holds up a picture of Whit in his baseball uniform, his hair cut too short, and his mouth full of metal.

Cooper did know Whit in high school. He pushes out a laugh. No, he wants to say, but it’d probably come out like the lie it is. He shuffles through the photos, plucking one of a school play, Penny on stage in a scarecrow costume, and another of Whit holding a basketball.

Cooper reaches beneath a stack of sports photos to one of Drew and Whit at what must be Whit’s house. Cooper never went there, never did more than drive by the outside of Whit’s family home, but it looks like the right type of kitchen to fit the space.

Whit’s parents don’t know about him and Whit, Cooper realizes. No, there’s no gentle chiding from Luis and Diana, no significant looks, no sense of a hint hanging in the air that they have any idea that their son and Cooper have spent this spring and early summer…

What? Sharing a room? Messing around? Cooper tosses the photo back into the pile. It skids across the table and pushes another to the side with its momentum. Penny and Drew in this one, their heads close together, Penny’s hair braided into pigtails, a hat sideways on her head, and a summer sunburn across Drew’s cheeks and nose. Late in high school, it must’ve been, because Cooper recognizes the T-shirt Drew’s wearing from a concert they’d driven all night to go see. And the next photo beneath must’ve been the same day, and Whit’s in it on Penny’s other side.

Hell if Cooper’s in any of these. Maybe he took this shot and doesn’t even remember now. Though no, it was more likely Drew’s aunt, and Cooper had probably already headed back to the city, a too-quiet apartment greeting him as he shook out clothes that still smelled like hay and sunshine.

Whit reaches past Cooper, his arm brushing against Cooper’s shoulder. “Pen, you were cute as a button.”

Penny grabs the photo from him. “C’mon, tease Mr. Lobsterman Drew here. Could you even fit more freckles on your face?”

Cooper tries for a smile, poking a finger into Drew’s cheek. “The beard only does so much, my dude.”

Drew bats him away. “It intimidates the squirrels and that’s all I need.”

“You kids,” Diana says, her voice fond.

Cooper bends down and rubs behind Sadie’s ears. The three of them, Diana might as well say.

“Barely kids anymore, you all are old.” Luis curves his arm around Whit’s shoulder and jostles him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Speaking of, we gotta go, ’cause we got the rest of the garage waiting for us.”

“The garage?” Drew asks. “You’re welcome here for dinner, if you want.”

“Cooper’s making pizza,” Whit says.

Cooper huffs a soft laugh, scratching up under Sadie’s collar.

“Thanks, but we still have some more organizing to do,” Diana says. “All the fun of years of stuff to finish going through.”

Drew nods toward the door. “At least let me get you some cheese before you go.”

“Pizza?” Penny asks as the door creaks shut behind them. “Again?”

Whit’s eyes follow Drew as he leads his parents across the barnyard to the cheese room and the cooler.

“Yeah,” Whit says, “we had pizza for lunch, so Cooper’s internal clock is already ticking down until he desperately needs another slice.”

Cooper cups Sadie’s chin in his hand. “Sadie, you’d never treat me like this, now would you?”

“Farm reg sixteen point four,” Penny says. “Household members can only cook repeats of meals three times before we’re all allowed to put squirrels in their bed.”

Cooper rests his cheek on top of Sadie’s head. “Farm reg sixteen point five states that it’s actually illegal to put a squirrel in my bed and I’ll call in Constable Buttercup.”

Drew pushes the door open. “Whit?”

“Sorry, Coop, sixteen point six invalidates Buttercup’s authority in this situation,” Whit says.

Cooper stands and elbows Whit in the ribs. “You’re just making that up.”

“Oh, as opposed to you and Penny, who are actually—”

“Whit?” Drew asks again.

“Yeah?” Whit asks but instead of turning toward Drew, he elbows Cooper right back.

“You know what,” Cooper says, “I’m probably your best bet against the squirrels. They know they have the three of you wrapped around their tiny, creepy fingers.”

“Whit, did your parents sell their house?” Drew asks.

Whit freezes. “Uh, yeah.”

“And they’re moving?”

“I mean…” Whit shrugs. “Yeah.”

“To?”

“Albany.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“They’re moving to a—a, like, apartment place, they said?”

“That’s right,” Whit says.

“So they can—your dad had fucking cancer?”

Silence. Whit and Penny glance at each other. Drew’s face reddens, his mouth open.

“He’s fine,” Whit finally says.

Drew points a finger at Whit. “This spring, when you asked—”

“Drew, forget it.”

“Is this why you wanted—I told you I couldn’t pay you more and—”

“C’mon, it’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound like it’s fine.”

“I said it’s fine and it’s fine.”

“Are your folks okay?”

“My dad’s great. And their house was…well, it was a lot for them to handle over the winter. You know how much snow and ice we got. So, it was either an apartment, or I could’ve moved back in with them. Win, win.”

“You were going to move in with them?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Drew.”

“But if I can’t pay you more, are you going to?”

“Well, they sold their house. It’s kind of a moot point.”

“Yeah, but they said they sold it in March, and you asked in April and—”

“What’re you going to do, Drew, if I say yes?” Whit asks.

Penny purses her lips. Drew inhales sharply, his shoulders rising.

“You had some of your own shit going on,” Whit says.

“But that’s—we’re supposed to be—you didn’t even say anything.” Drew touches his forehead. “This is so like you! You just clam up and say nothing. Your dad had fucking cancer!”

“C’mon, Drew—”

“And then I just have to assume that when you say it’s fine, that it’s really fine and it’s clearly not fine. Fuck, Whit!”

“Oh, he’s actually mad,” Cooper whispers and Penny grimaces and nods.

Madder than Cooper’s seen him, that’s for sure. Drew, who was laughing a minute ago, and who couldn’t even muster more than an anxious irritation when his house fell apart and his farm took a nosedive. Now, the door slams behind him.

“Fuck,” Whit says softly. He jogs across the kitchen, and in his socks, pushes out the door. “Drew!”

But the engine in Drew’s Jeep turns over, gravel crunching beneath the tires.

Cooper edges toward the window. Outside, Whit turns in a sharp circle, his hands in his hair. Penny bumps her shoulder into Cooper’s and they watch Whit pace one way and then back again.

“Well, shit,” she murmurs.

“Whit miscalculated that one,” Cooper says.

“To be fair, I told him that.”

“To be fairer, I’d have nearly enjoyed Whit being so wrong if Drew didn’t look so butthurt.” Cooper blows out a breath. “I think Drew might be under just a touch of stress.”

“Just a tiny bit.”

“Just the smallest, life-shattering crises of his family farm on the brink of going out of business, falling behind on his bills, and swamping his entire future.”

“No biggie.”

“Not at all.”

“He’ll be back in a bit,” Penny says and Cooper nods. “You gonna go talk to Whit?”

She’s looking at him steadily, her head tipped.

Yeah, Cooper nearly says but chokes on the word before he can let it out.

Talk to Whit and say what? Cooper straightens from his lean against the windowsill. He can’t touch what Whit and Penny have. What Whit and Penny and Drew all have—he’ll be back in a bit.

This isn’t the first tiff in the roommates-coworkers-friends thing they’ve had going on for so long now. It probably plays out like this more than Cooper knows, feathers getting ruffled and the proverbial pot boiling over, a hint of awkwardness and irritation staining the air until it clears out again.

Cooper tries for a smile. “Nah, go work your cousin magic. I’m gonna call that cheese shop and follow up with Myra.”

He goes upstairs to their bedroom to make the call, though he just gets Myra’s voicemail, and after he leaves a message, he kicks off his jeans and slowly lowers himself to the edge of his bed.

Years of stuff, Cooper thinks, imagining Whit’s parents and their garage. In his mind, it’s full to bursting with Whit’s childhood, the detritus of a happy family and proud parents who carefully collected any and every keepsake. What had Whit said once? That they’d wanted a full house of kids, but only Whit had come along, and he’d gotten the full force of their excitement and delight?

Cooper’s own pictures from high school, his diploma, his shin guards, cleats, and old soccer jersey are…somewhere.

Though no, Mom probably got rid of them.

He rolls onto his back. Not probably. Definitely. His old bedroom is an office now, and last time he stayed over, Terry put sheets on the couch for him. He had laughed and made some joke over the knot of hurt and laid awake all damn night, picturing himself anywhere else but there.

Cooper glances over at his duffle bag—it’s still upside down where he left it, and all the clothes he’s got in the world fit inside. Enough for ten days, two weeks if he’s careful. His heavy insulated boots are jammed behind the passenger seat in his truck, along with his winter jacket, and his hat and gloves that he hasn’t needed in weeks now. And that’s it, isn’t it? The sum of his entire damn life.

By the time he hears the Jeep again, it’s dark enough that the headlights cut across the walls of the room. Cooper listens as Drew’s familiar steps creak down the hall. He knocks gently at the door and Cooper calls out, “Yeah?”

Drew pokes just his head through. “Is Whit around?”

“He and Penny went for a walk, I think.”

“Okay.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” Drew lifts a shoulder. “No. I don’t know.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Just tired. I’ll be okay.”

Drew shuts the door softly. Footsteps down the hall, the squeak of Drew’s bedroom door, and then the snick of it closing again. Cooper lets his head fall back against his pillow. That’s better than Drew retreating to the attic and his hammer and his ongoing revenge against the squirrels. Quieter at least, if it isn’t a bit depressing how silent the house is.

Maybe Cooper should get up and pull a conversation out of Drew. Though he’d say what, exactly? Sorry he showed up here in the first place? Walked right into the perfect balance of the three of them and upended it all?

Cooper can hear Sadie shuffle across the floor downstairs when Whit and Penny come back, their voices low. Cooper turns on his side and presses his face into his pillow as Whit pushes open their door.

“Drew was looking for you,” Cooper says.

“His light’s off.”

“Hmm.” Cooper peels an eye open. Whit looks tired, his hair rumpled like he’s been running his fingers through it, and the skin around his eyes is drawn. “Long day, huh?”

“Long day,” Whit says.

“D’you eat dinner?”

“No.”

Cooper nestles his cheek into his pillow. “Me neither.”

“Wanna order a pizza?”

“Funny.”

“Scooch.”

“What?”

But Whit just crawls over Cooper instead of answering, settling on his side between Cooper’s back and the wall and wiggling until there’s room for both of them.

Cooper kicks at Whit’s shins. “This is my bed,” he says.

“Technically, it’s my second bed.”

“Technically, I think you’re getting hay on my sheets.”

“Maybe you’ll finally wash them.”

“Please, I’m practically pristine.”

Whit pushes his nose into the back of Cooper’s neck, a heavy hand falling to his waist. “M’gonna get you a dictionary, if that’s what you think that word means.”

Cooper waits for that hand to wander down the front of his boxers, pluck at the cotton and pull at the waistband, but Whit just leaves it where it is, his thumb stroking over Cooper’s ribs through his T-shirt.

Okay, so they’re just lying here, not fucking. How weird. Nice, though, too. Cooper shifts and Whit tugs him backward into the warm line of his body.

“Are you going to go talk to Drew?” Cooper asks.

“I’m not going to wake him up.” Whit’s hand slips around to press to the flat of Cooper’s stomach, holding him close. “Should I leave?”

“I mean, it’s your room, so—”

“The farm?” Whit asks.

Cooper twists to look at him, though with Whit’s strong grip, the most he can see are Whit’s messy curls.

“What the hell?” he asks.

“I’m clearly not doing much to help Drew.”

“Um, you’re not—I’m sorry, what?”

“I’ve been here every step of the way with him. And the finances of the farm just aren’t working, and I’m as much at fault for that, especially this summer since Drew asked me to step up and help out. You’ve been here for a couple weeks and we’re selling more cheese than ever, the fencing is so much better, and what’s it going to be next, Coop? It seems like you’re just getting started.”

“Better?” Cooper asks. “Say that again, I kinda like the ring it has.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Cooper blows out a breath. Fuck, he’s not good at this kind of thing. He wants to make a joke, strip both their clothes off, and ignore any type of actual conversation for the allure of bare skin.

But, no. This is Drew. And the farm. Try again, he tells himself, but it might as well be, try for real.

“You’re not going to leave,” Cooper says. “You love this place as much as Drew does, and when his uncle left it to him, you were right here to help him take over the business.”

“And look at the shitty job we’ve done.”

“So? Turn it around.”

“You say it like it’s that easy.”

“Well, when you don’t spend years overthinking stupidly simple things, it kind of is. Maybe instead of beating yourself up, how about you take these challenges as a wakeup call? What worked for Drew’s uncle doesn’t fit here anymore. You two can make this farm your own.”

“He needs someone other than me to make that happen,” Whit says.

“Nah, he needs you to get your head out of your butt.”

“I’m not good at big changes.”

“Well, no. And Drew’s right that you’re not good at talking about stuff, either. Though, to be fair, it’s not like he’s a model example of examining his feelings.”

“It’s hard.”

“So? Things are hard. Farming’s hard. Life’s hard. Working with you every damn day is hard and you don’t hear me complaining.”

“I do. All the time.”

“You and Drew get so stuck in your damn ruts around here is all I’m saying. Yeah, you need some inertia to break free of that. It’s probably difficult, but whatever, man. Live your life.”

Like Cooper should go off and do, rather than let the lull of time here continue to grow. So easy to let one day fade into the next. Nice, too, in a simple, comfortable routine. Maybe he can see the appeal of tying himself down to one place, but…what the hell kind of future is that?

A farm that can’t really afford to pay him, the gray area of hooking up with Whit endlessly, until what? They get tired of it? One of them meets someone else? The newness and excitement of sex frays and leaves them stilted and awkward? And Cooper goes back to chewing over his crush while Whit continues on with his life?

I want you to like me, he wants to blurt out. Seal this moment with a long and sweet kiss.

No,he tells himself. Stop fucking wishing. Cooper pushes his face into the pillow. Enough idle daydreaming. Talk about being stuck in a damn rut—how long is he really going to do this to himself?

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Whit says softly.

Cooper pulls Whit’s hand up to examine the bandage. “How’s this feeling?”

“I’m getting the stitches out tomorrow.”

“Really?” Cooper asks. Though of course, it’s Whit’s day off. Another week gone by, time ticking on toward the height of midsummer.

“It really sucks your mom didn’t come to lunch.”

Cooper drops Whit’s hand. “We’re not talking about it.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Cooper kicks Whit square in the shin, though lighter than he sort of wishes. “Let’s go back to the delightful image of you with braces.”

“Has she ever come up here?”

“Or take your pants off. Let’s put this secondary bed of yours to good use.”

“Cooper.”

“No, she hasn’t fucking ever been up here. She couldn’t even visit her own dad, my grandpa. Now shut up so I can make fun of the fact that you were literally the chubbiest baby to ever exist.”

Whit tightens his arm over Cooper’s waist. “I’m being serious.”

“Well, stop it, it’s weird.”

“Penny said I wasn’t good at talking. Well, she said I fucking suck at it, along with some other choice phrases. And that I should have told Drew about my dad, like she told me to.” Whit pokes Cooper’s stomach gently. “Why don’t you ever see your mom?”

“’Cause we don’t all have parents who carefully curate years of photo albums.” Cooper tries to squirm away, but Whit just tightens his arm. “She just works a lot, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“What does she do?”

“Shouts into her phone and sends emails.”

“No, really.”

“Yes, really. Sometimes she takes a break to ask when I’m going to quit bumming around and get a real job, but then her phone rings, so it’s not like I ever have to answer.”

“She doesn’t like that you farm?”

Cooper pushes out a hard laugh. “I’m not sure she likes anything about me.”

“But she’s your mom.”

“I’m a mistake she made with a guy before she settled in for a life with the ladies.”

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to.”

Don’t assume, Terry had said once, smoothing Cooper’s hair back as she sat on the edge of his bed. Cooper wiggles again, trying to put a couple inches between himself and Whit. Well, Mom’s had a lifetime to tell her side of the story, but hell if she’d ever take the damn time.

“Do you know your dad?” Whit asks.

Cooper shoves at Whit’s arm. “We’re not doing this.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, okay, I have met the walking, talking cloud of cigarette smoke that contributed half of my genetic makeup, and no, we didn’t go play catch in the park, also fuck you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“How long has Terry been around?”

“You want a goddamn report in a three-ring binder? Laminated, too?”

“You never talk about any of this.”

“Listen, mister, today is all about you failing to communicate with our buddy Drew at every turn. Don’t drag me into this.”

“I was always so confused why you were around all summer. I had no idea.”

“What, that I got shipped off upstate?” Cooper tries to free himself again, but Whit won’t budge. “It was visiting my grandparents and getting dropped off here at the farm most days, or an empty apartment. My mom might not give a shit about where I am or where I go, but she definitely read at least one parenting blog when I was a teen that told her I’d end up a degenerate if I was unsupervised for too long. Joke’s on her, ’cause look at me anyway.”

“C’mon, you don’t really think that.”

“Hello, you’re the one who likes to remind me I barely ever have steady employment.” You and good old Cheryl, he thinks.

“Coop…”

“You know, Mom would really appreciate your opinion of me: useless, flaky, and unreliable. It’d confirm everything she’s ever suspected.”

Whit lets out a soft breath, warm against the back of Cooper’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“I just meant—” Whit shakes his head, his nose tickling through Cooper’s hair.

Cooper shifts, trying to stretch out his legs, but Whit’s knees are tucked behind his own. This bed isn’t big enough for both of them. Though maybe he’s finally getting used to it, because he finds an empty spot for his foot, draping his ankle over Whit’s and wiggling the pillow a couple inches closer.

“Meant what?” Cooper finally asks, watching the shadows lengthen, the sharp relief of the shape of leaves shifting against the walls in the moonlight.

Whit jerks a little, like he was sleeping. “Just that you deserve better.”

Cooper huffs out a breath. There’s a retort to be had if he can just find it. Something about his mom, or maybe a steady job for himself, or maybe about Whit and this summer of eager, secret fucking. But it’s slow to come, and by the time he’s dredged up words to shoot back, Whit’s breath has evened out again. There’ve been enough nights to know the rhythm of that puff of air against his shoulder when Whit sleeps, the laxness of his hand against Cooper’s stomach and the heaviness of his arm.

Cooper has half a mind to kick Whit in the shin again. We didn’t even fuck, he could say, so what the hell is this, spooned up together with our clothes still on? Whit murmurs something and tightens his hold on Cooper’s waist before he relaxes again.

It’s like something out of his high school fantasies, to be held all night by Whit. And fucking hell, it feels so good it hurts.

Be happy for what you do get, Cooper tells himself and presses back into the warm, strong line of Whit’s body. Hasn’t he told himself that for years now? Yeah, for far too long, ever since he was a kid and waited, held his breath, hoped and hoped that the clatter of typing would stop long enough for blankets to be pulled up to his chin, a soft kiss pressed to his forehead.

Fuck, he thinks and turns in the circle of Whit’s arm, presses his face into that broad, strong chest, and curls up there, his eyes too hot and his throat sore.