Cattle Stop by Kit Oliver

Chapter One

“I’m here!”Cooper jumps down from his truck into the muddy sludge of the barnyard. Silence meets his shout and he cups his hands around his mouth to call, “Drew? Penny?”

But Two Pines Farm is quiet, even the cows in the barn only glancing his way as they chew over their cud. The frozen puddles don’t answer him and neither does the tractor, nor the stray chicken who clucks to herself as she strolls past the barn. Cooper tosses the truck door closed with a thump that echoes across the empty plane of crusty snow on the fields and the trees’ bare branches.

The only movement from the house is Sadie wagging her tail where she’s sprawled on the porch. It takes her a long, slow heave to get to her front feet, and longer still to drag her hips under her. Cooper jogs across the slush in the driveway before she can totter down the porch steps on her short legs, and bends to rub behind her drooping ears.

“Hi, sweet girl.” Once, her back leg would’ve started going as he scratched the tawny fur beneath her collar, though now he only gets a huff against the cuff of his sweatshirt, a gentle lick of a kiss, and her deep brown eyes turned up to him. Matching blonds, he’s said to her more than once. He bends down to press his cheek to the top of her head.

The door’s unlocked, like it always is. The swell of dry heat from the woodstove tells Cooper he missed a bigger welcoming committee by no longer than it takes a log to catch on the coals. He peers around, shoving a handful of hair behind his ear, but the room’s empty except for Sadie waddling toward her water bowl.

But even still and silent, the kitchen is the same as ever, the scent of woodsmoke and fresh bread, that perpetual note of hay from the chaff caught in the cuffs and hems of the jackets hanging on their hooks. As always, the boots are lined up against the wall. Whit’s, the largest pair, Drew’s in the middle, and then Penny’s shoes she wears for work as a bartender, the smallest.

There’s not really space for Cooper’s boots, so he kicks them off and nudges them toward the heat of the woodstove. At least they’ll be toasty when he leaves later that afternoon.

And then he lets out a happy, long breath. Back again and it feels oh so good.

The whiteboard hangs on the wall where it always has, Drew’s cheese-making schedule written in his scrawl, Penny’s bartending shifts at Murry’s in her far neater print, and Whit’s cursive of the cows’ due dates and hay deliveries. Apparently, it’s Penny’s night to cook and—perfect—Whit’s day off from his job here on the farm, which gives Cooper a couple hours to visit with Drew, and no dour and dreary Whit to bump into. Plus, if Cooper can finagle it, maybe some lunch.

“Drew?” he calls again as he makes his way into the living room and then up the steep, creaky stairs.

Drew’s room, the master bedroom, sits empty except for the laundry spilling out of the hamper and the unmade bed, a single pillow against the headboard and the sheets kicked back.

“Where you at, bud?” Cooper asks, but Drew’s socks don’t answer him.

Just down the hall, Penny’s door is half-ajar. Cooper taps his knuckles against it, waits, and pokes it open with one finger, but her room is as empty as Drew’s.

At the other end of the hallway, Whit’s door is closed and entirely too tempting.

He shouldn’t, but Cooper still eases the door open. Just curious where everyone’s gotten to, he thinks and peers inside. He takes a step in. And then another.

The room smells like Whit. Like the soap he uses and the smell of his skin. Just looking for Drew, Cooper thinks as he picks up one of the picture frames on top of the dresser of Whit and Penny, their heads tipped together and arms around each other’s shoulders. Cousins, Cooper had eventually learned, nearly a decade ago when he’d first met them when they were all teenagers, with their dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin, and the same quirk to their mouths, Penny’s smile wider than Whit’s ever is. Cousins and best friends with Drew, and now that Drew’s uncle has moved to Florida and left the farm to him, roommates.

Jealous, Cooper’s caught himself thinking more than once. Penny and Whit tied together by their family, their parents and grandparents and Penny’s sisters living not that far away, and their trips back to Mexico to see cousins and aunts and uncles. And the two of them getting to live with Drew here at the farm, Whit working here each and every day, ending more often than not with long evenings gathered at Murry’s, hanging out together. Hell, the three of them got to go to high school together, too, while Cooper only got to visit upstate New York during the summers to see his grandparents, got dropped off here at the farm for a way to while away the time, and then it was back to Brooklyn for the school year. Then, like now, he just drops in to say hi, before he’s off again.

Whatever. If Cooper spent more time here, he’d have to see Whit and no fucking thanks. A visit to see his best bud, Drew, say hi to Penny, and then get the hell out of here sounds far, far better.

He puts the picture back down, trying to get it in the exact right spot. There’s no mark of dust to tell him where it precisely sat, though he’s sure Whit will somehow know Cooper’s been poking around.

But he’s just looking to see if anyone’s home, not snooping through the drawer of the nightstand between the two twin beds, checking out what Whit might keep there.

Though, he could.

No, he tells himself, even as he reaches for it.

From the hall, the stairs creak.

Cooper pulls in a breath and holds it, listening. That’s not the sound of Drew’s footsteps. Please, please, let it not be Whit.

“Cooper?”

“Penny? Oh, thank God.”

She pushes open the door and laughs as he picks her up, swinging her in a circle, her ponytail long enough to dance over his forearms. “Fuck you. You gave me a heart attack, but I thought that was your truck.”

“I thought you were out,” he says as he sets her back down.

“I was in the cheese room. And I thought you were up north, not breaking and entering.”

“Just finished up a winter job in Maine and next stop: Oregon. Figured I’d swing through before I head out west, say hi to my moms down in Brooklyn, and I could surprise Drew on the way.”

“By hiding in Whit’s room?”

Cooper slips past her into the hallway. “Well, I told Sadie I’d check in there just to make sure. Where is everyone?”

“Drew had to go to the hardware store for some Tyvek, and I got the dubious honor of giving him a hand flipping the Brie.” Penny flexes one arm, pointing to her bicep. “You’re welcome, cheese eaters of New York, ’cause I thought my wrist was going to fall off salting each and every one of those little bastards.”

“Tyvek? Is he finally building Sadie the dog palace she needs and deserves?”

“You haven’t talked to him? Come up and look.”

Cooper follows Penny up the attic stairs, which squeak like they always have. He and Drew used to take turns locking each other in the attic during weekend sleepovers, when Cooper’s grandpa needed a break from watching him and he’d been thrilled to terrify himself with the cobwebs and dust and hair-raising creaks of the centuries-old house. Even now, some of that good old terror sparks up his spine, though this time it’s at the sight of the roof.

Fucking yikes. “What the hell?”

“I guess a family of squirrels spent all winter digging into the siding and window trim, and we got a hell of a lot of snow this year. It all melted, and yeah, Drew’s not too thrilled.”

Cooper follows the stained and pockmarked rot of wood across the attic’s ceiling until he’s standing right over the room he normally stays in. The damage travels down the wall to the floor, and he takes a careful step backward. “Wow.”

“You think this is a mess, you should see Drew. He’s not exactly—how should we put it?—in the best of moods.”

“He didn’t say anything. We talked the other day and he—”

“Is low-key panicking and probably was in the middle of one of many nervous breakdowns? Welcome to my and Whit’s life these days. Please start visiting more often than every six months, we can’t actually handle him.” Her head tips. Cooper hears the rumble of a car outside, and then Sadie barking. “Ah, the grump himself.”

Cooper jogs down the stairs and nudges Sadie aside with his foot to throw open the door. Sure enough, there’s Drew, his arms spreading wide as he sees Cooper.

“I knew that was your goddamn truck!” Drew nearly lifts Cooper off his feet with his hug.

“Miss me?”

Drew smacks him on the back with one meaty hand. “Of course, I fucking missed you.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“I love you, man. Where the hell have you been all winter?”

“Working.” Cooper tries to heave in a breath, but Drew just squeezes him tighter. “Go do something useful, milk a cow.”

“They only like Whit,” Drew says, “and you and I both know it. Hi, you fucker. Thanks for the warning you were stopping by.”

“Hi, yourself. Did you shower in the last six months? ’Cause all I can smell is cow shit.” Cooper looks him over, Drew’s mop of red hair, the length of his winter beard, and the freckles over his nose and cheeks, stark against his pale skin. “You look good, though.”

“You look scruffy as shit.” Drew smacks him on the shoulder again. “Come in, you asshole. Pen, go slash his tires so he can’t leave.”

“I can’t stay. I told the mom squad I’d stop by and then”—Cooper shapes his fingers into guns and points both at Drew—“grand adventures await. Can I get a hell yeah?”

“You can get your butt in a chair and tell me how your winter was. You fucking promised you’d come down to visit and here you show up and it’s already spring.”

“What can I say? I lead a life of mystery.”

“You lead a life of refusing to plan more than five minutes in advance.”

“Enigmatic intrigue.”

Drew snorts a laugh. “Is that what you tell all the boys?”

Cooper winks at him. “We don’t do much talking.”

Drew sets out Brie, Camembert, and cheddar, and pulls a dish towel off of a lump that reveals itself to be freshly baked bread. Cooper settles into one of the mismatched chairs around the worn kitchen table and leans back into the heat of the woodstove, idly scratching at Sadie’s ears when she totters over. The kitchen always seems like something out of an old-time museum, wood beams in the ceiling, quaint curtains over the window above the soapstone sink, and a refrigerator nearly buried in magnets. It’s like Drew’s aunt and uncle should walk back in at any moment, given how it’s frozen in time since they retired and left Drew the house and the farm. But only Penny appears, pulling a sweatshirt over her head.

“Well,” Cooper says, “I’d ask how your winter was, but I saw the attic.”

Drew points a jar of jam at the ceiling. “The attic? That old thing? There’s nothing wrong at all, except if you thought you were going to stay in your usual room and wanted, you know, walls between you and the great outdoors.”

“Good thing I’m only swinging through town to put a smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye,” Cooper says.

“If you touch the plaster in there, it just”—Penny wiggles her fingers and makes a fizzing noise—“crumbles. It’s kind of cool, actually.”

Drew grabs a knife and an apple and brings them to the table too. “Very cool, complete with the fact that we’re being harassed by a team of squirrels intent on tearing down my damn house.”

“So, it was a great winter, then.” Cooper pops a piece of cheddar in his mouth and closes his eyes as he chews. There’s a lot of cheese in the world, but none like Drew’s. Fucking brilliant idea, back over summers during high school when Drew had first been messing around with the idea of trying his hand at mozzarella and ricotta. Then, Cooper had just enjoyed it as a snack after an afternoon helping around the farm, and now, it’s an entire business.

“I think we should just hire the squirrels to fix the house,” Penny says, slipping into the chair next to Drew. “Trade them acorns, make peace in the neighborhood, put this entire disaster behind us.”

“They’d probably do a better job than I would.” Drew slices the apple with a whack of the knife. “Or maybe at least they can give Whit a hand with the damn cows so I can make some progress on the house.”

Cooper grins and reaches for a slice of apple. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I would bet the squirrels would be better at farming than Whit is.”

“Whit, our esteemed farm manager, you mean?” Penny points a piece of apple at Cooper. “Drew has him running the farm this year, you know.”

“Yeah, I gotta focus on this damn house. I asked him to pretty much take over the cows,” Drew says.

“The poor cows,” Cooper says.

“He’s helping with sales too,” Drew says.

“Poor customers,” Cooper says.

“Oh my God, the two of you,” Penny says. “Whit’s not even here, and already you and him are going at it.”

“I’m just here to say hi, eat cheese, and give a true and honest assessment of Mr. Whit Morales’s skills.”

“Of course you are. But look, I really think I’m on to something here. I’ve got work at the bar, Drew has, you know, cheese stress, which leaves only Whit to get the farm ready for the spring, so what I’m thinking is an entire army of squirrels helping him. Like maybe a rehabilitation program for them, give them a satisfying goal to work toward so they stop trying to take apart the house.”

“I like this idea,” Cooper says. “Can they give Whit a performance review, too? I’ll set them up with little squirrel-sized clipboards and a checklist.”

A chill gust of cold air slices across Cooper’s back, followed by the echo of heavy footsteps.

Oh.

Fucking great.

He twists in his chair and there’s Whit in the doorway, pressing the door closed with a broad palm to seal it against the frame.

Cooper tugs at his sweatshirt. The grease stains worn into the gray fabric and the raggedness of the hem seem suddenly more obvious. That and the fact he hasn’t shaved in a couple days or gotten a haircut in much longer. It’s like Whit can somehow tell Cooper’s socks don’t match through the mud-splattered cuffs of his jeans, despite his feet being tucked beneath the table. Fucking hell, he’d been so sure he’d be able to get in, see Drew, and avoid Whit’s cool appraisal.

Cooper curls his toes. “Hey.”

Yeah, that was casual and easy, and like he doesn’t even give the tiniest of shits. He still can’t believe he liked Whit. Had that burning, awful crush on him, back when they were teenagers and Whit seemed so damn cool.

Has, his brain supplies, and Cooper frowns and grabs a piece of apple.

Had, he thinks firmly and sets a slice of cheddar on top.

The cheese slides off and falls to the table.

“What checklist?” Whit asks.

Cooper doesn’t have to look to know Whit’s hanging his coat neatly on the far left hook, like he always does. Cooper should’ve shucked off his own sweatshirt and hung it there, just to mess with him.

“Cooper’s here,” Drew says. “He came to bear witness to the last day this house is standing before the squirrels come back armed with screw guns and crowbars.”

Cooper picks up the slice of cheese and sets it back on the apple. It falls again, and he sighs. “Thought you were out.”

“I came back,” Whit says. “Hi.”

Cooper pops the apple into his mouth. “Hi.”

“Coop’s gonna help me train the squirrels to work on the farm,” Penny says.

“That was the grand idea I just walked in on?” Whit asks.

What an ass. What an unfortunately gorgeous asshole. Especially since the shape of Whit’s chest beneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt, the perfect curls in his dark hair, and those deep brown eyes of his make Cooper want to do stupid shit like stare at him. How fucking treacherous to be back here on the farm. Every single time Cooper spends too long around Whit, that damn crush crops up again, unwanted and stubborn and overwhelming.

All the more reason to ignore it. Not to let it get a foothold in his mind again, and to focus on his irritation with Whit, that familiar annoyance with him that keeps those feelings at bay.

“I know you’re allergic to new ideas, but it was a good one.” Cooper has half a mind to kick away the empty chair next to him before Whit can take it, but Sadie’s in the way, so he just grimaces as Whit sits. “How you been?”

“Fine.” Whit neatly sandwiches a piece of cheddar between two thin slices of apple. “Does this mean you’re staying?”

“I’ve got a job to get to, actually.”

“You got a job?”

“Surprised?”

“You should stay for a bit, Coop,” Drew says.

Whit takes a neat, tidy bite of his perfectly constructed, stupid snack and glances at Cooper’s cheese still on the table. “You always ask Drew for a reference. Figured I would’ve heard if that’d been the case.”

“Well, I’m working on getting a job.” Cooper grabs the last slice of apple before Whit can. “It’s a real awesome farm out in Oregon, and I’m driving out there soon as I say hi to you lot. New life on the West Coast, see you never.”

“Think they know about squirrel training?” Penny asks. Across the kitchen, the kettle whistles and she pushes her chair back. “Want tea, anyone?”

“I’ll have some, but sit, stay, I’ll get it.” Drew stands. “What kind of farm?”

“Goats, and they’ve got a real sweet setup.”

“Oh,” Whit says. “Goats. I hear you love goats.”

Drew points from Whit to Cooper and back again as he fills Penny’s favorite mug. “It’s been all of five minutes. Play nice. And I want to hear about the new job.”

“We always do love to hear the latest career move,” Whit says.

At least I haven’t worked at the same place my entire adult life, Cooper could snap. Though it wouldn’t be worth it, because Whit’s not even looking at him. No, he’s just slicing a piece of bread for himself and covering it with Brie. Same old Cooper coming up with a retort just as Whit’s already coolly, drolly brushing him off.

So no, nothing around here has changed. For the better in so many ways, like a worn-in, well-loved life Cooper can slip back into, but the stillness of time means Whit’s the same as ever: achingly handsome and his attitude already grating under Cooper’s skin.

“I was going to hit the road to get down to Brooklyn,” Cooper says. “I wanted to see mother number one and mother number two before I head out for the sunset.”

Drew sets Penny’s mug on the table. “Okay, but counterargument, I will feed you cheese until you burst.”

“Squirrel training, squirrel training,” Penny chants, slapping the table in time with the words. “Come on, Coop, stay tonight at least. I’m off work, and Whit’s here too, so we can all hang out.”

“Yeah, and you can see the true state of dilapidation this damn place is in,” Drew says as he roots through the cupboard for another mug.

Cooper frowns at Drew’s back, the joking in Drew’s voice too faint beneath what sounds like genuine exhaustion. Beneath the table, Penny kicks at Cooper’s ankle.

“What?” Cooper asks.

“Sorry.” She kicks again and Whit looks up at her. “Dile que haría una gran diferencia si se queda hoy, de todas formas necesitamos la ayuda.”¹

Whit neatly, precisely spreads jam over his Brie.

“Tell him,” Penny says.

Whit sighs. Sets the knife down and wipes his fingers off. Then, he leans close to Cooper, close enough the hairs rise on the back of Cooper’s neck, and Whit’s breath ghosts over his ear as he whispers, “Penny says it’d make a big difference to Drew if you stayed tonight.”

Cooper jerks away.

“It would,” she says. “Tell him the other part.”

“No.”

“Tell him.”

Whit leans close again. Cooper tenses, his eyes straight ahead as Whit’s arm brushes his. “And we need help with work, too.”

“So, yeah?” Penny asks. “What d’ya think? Stay, would you?”

Whit’s here, Cooper so wants to say. He wants to rub at his ear.

Drew pours hot water into a mug and a couple drops miss, splattering against the nicked and worn wood of the counter. There’s still the circular burn-mark where, years ago, Cooper’d set down a pot straight from the oven, and afterward, he’d tried frantically to wipe the scorch away before Drew’s aunt saw.

She’d noticed it—but, Whit’d been the one giving him a look cooler than she ever had or would. How fucking typical.

Drew stares down at the water. He sighs and wipes it with the cuff of his sweatshirt, then stares at the wet mark, like wherever his mind is, it’s far away from the cause and effect of blotting and damp fabric.

Yeah, Cooper could spend the day here, help Drew out, and take off in the morning. Surely, he could manage twenty-four hours without wanting to strangle Whit.

Or wanting to kiss him. Again.

Cooper blows out a breath. “Ok, one night.”

It’s worth it, to see the grin spread over Drew’s face and how Penny punches both fists in the air. And even more so, the flex of Whit’s cheek as he tightens his jaw. Well, this is just the first of many annoyances Cooper can heap on Whit during this visit, ’cause he’s got the rest of the day now and maybe, if he works hard enough at it, he can get Whit’s eye to start twitching, too.