Page 22 of Fibre and Ink

“Come on, Daisy,” I said, urging along one of my mama alpacas. “Come on, Huey is just behind you.” The pack moved a little quicker with my coaxing. They filed into the smaller paddock that held the barn. I couldn’t bear the idea of losing any of them.

I didn’t like losing anything, really.

My parents would have been the start of that.

Losing both when I was still so young, forced me into the position of caretaker for Harlow. Not that I minded, I loved Harlow, and I was grateful that I was old enough to take over as her guardian. That we hadn’t been sent into the foster system, split up...

Grandma would have stopped that happening, but she’d wouldn’t have wanted to live on the farm full time. And she’d got sick.

Harlow wanted to move away.

But the ache was always in me, the fear that I could lose her too.

This farm, the land I stood on, that I worked and cared for... that was my parents’ legacy. I couldn’t lose it.

Unbidden, the image seared into my mind, of Pete’s car driving away.

He’d driven off, just as my parents had, never to return.

Pete, at least, was still alive, according to the sad social media stalking I sometimes did. He’d left because there was something wrong with me.

I’ve done work since then,I’d read books on sexuality and intimacy. Listened to podcasts of relationship counselors and mindfulness gurus and even done some remote talk therapy.

I’d worked on myself, and come to very few conclusions about exactly what is wrong... but I’ve come to terms with being alone. I don’t like solitude. I prefer the company of people, I like having someone beside me. Aster’s presence in my bed the past few nights has been such a comfort, I’ve slept better because of it.

But the last thing I wanted was to enter into something with him and then disappoint him when I wasn’t interested in the right things. In the things that couples do together.

I wanted it all the same. Selfishly, I wanted to kiss him, to touch him, to hold his hand and cuddle.

But he could never be content with a relationship that ended there, could he?

Besides all that, he didn’t think of me that way, so what was the point in worrying about it?

Something nudged against my hip. I looked down to see Aladdin, the soft grey alpaca. He leaned against me and I patted his neck.

“Sorry, Al. I was dreaming...”

I checked that he was the last of the pack and shut the gate.

I had to focus.

Filling the water trough, opening the barn doors and filling the feeder with hay was a good physical distraction. But through it all, my thoughts returned to the idea of Aster and me. What would it feel like to turn over in bed and wrap my arms around him?

What would his lips feel like?

Would he like my beard, if we kissed? Or would he rather I shaved?

I wanted to run my hands through his hair.

Pull on it. It looked so soft.

What was the point? I was a hopeless case. I sighed, and went to hug Daisy. She always grounded me.

She made a soft noise and leaned her head down, half wrapping me in her warm neck. An alpaca hug. Or maybe she was just sniffing my pockets for treats. Either way, I was glad of her presence.

“Thanks, love.”

The pizza Aster made was incredible, but I could see the tense set of his shoulders and the bags under his eyes from the last two disturbed nights of sleep. Plus, he’d been hunched over his laptop much of the afternoon. Dude needed a proper ergonomic chair and set up or his spine was going to look like a comma before long.