Page 100 of Cattle Stop

Slowly, Cooper swings onto the ladder. Takes a step down to the next rung and peers at Whit. Neatly, Whit folds the baling twine in half and then in half again. He always does that, and today is no different. Each strand, every single time Cooper’s ever seen him open a bale. For all Cooper knows, he has a collection somewhere, years and years of farming and neatly folded twine to show for it.

“What’s the point of that?” Cooper asks.

“Of what?”

“The—” Cooper jumps down the last rungs and points, his sleeve sticking to his shoulder as he raises his arm. Whit looks at it. And that’s…that’s something, isn’t it? Whit’s eyes cutting down to Cooper’s arm, then back to his face. It feels good to have Whit’s attention on him. “The folding. Why do you always do that?”

“I don’t like it when it gets tangled,” Whit says.

He’s good looking. Hasn’t Cooper always thought so? Since that first summer, when they were so much younger. All this damn time, the two of them circling each other.

“You don’t like it when it gets tangled.”

“That’s what I said.” Whit puts the twine into his pocket.

“You better fucking mean all of this,” Cooper says. “I can’t, I’ve—” God, this is hard to say. Easier too, than he might have guessed. Might have expected, if he ever even thought to dream any of this. “I’ve been trying to get over you too, asshole.”

“You have?”

“So fucking hell, Whit, tell me this is real.”

“I mean it,” Whit says softly.

“You do?”

“I love you,” Whit says. He’s half-mumbling and he clears his throat. “I love you,” he says, louder this time. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. And I came because I wanted to know if there was a chance that you might come back home.”

Home, Cooper thinks. Drew and Penny and Sadie. Sunshine. Autumn. Cheese. Whit.

“I want that,” Whit says. “And Drew said…I think you might want that too.”

Whit’s really here. Standing in front of him, hopeful and looking nearly as miserable as Cooper’s felt all these months.

“Whit,” Cooper says softly and Whit’s eyes snap to his, that soft, deep brown. Cooper’s always liked Whit’s eyes. He likes them all the more now focused on him as he walks closer. Whit’s face is wet, his cheeks cool under Cooper’s hands. Cooper looks at him for a long moment, touches his thumb to Whit’s cheekbone and then leans in and kisses him.

A sound rises from Whit. Soft and surprised, and Cooper tips his face and kisses him again, slow and hard, Whit’s cheeks in his hands and his mouth so warm. Whit tastes the same as Cooper remembers, and beneath the rain and hay, he smells the same too. All these fucking years, and Whit right in front of him the whole time.

“It’s baling twine,” Cooper says when he pulls back. “It gets tangled anyway.”

“But less so.”

“Maybe.” Cooper kisses him again.

Whit’s hands close over the back of Cooper’s neck and Whit’s mouth opens for his. He pushes Cooper’s hat back and presses closer, until Cooper’s T-shirt sticks to his chest, Whit gathered up against him. And that’s better, isn’t it? A firmer hold on each other. Whit sucks at his lower lip and Cooper lets him, opening his mouth for Whit’s tongue and tipping his head to the side as Whit shifts the angle of their kiss. Cooper wants to laugh. Or cry, maybe. He pulls back enough to open his eyes, just to make sure Whit’s still there, no matter the fact of his body held tight in Cooper’s arms.

“You’re sure?” Whit asks, his lips brushing over Cooper’s.

“No.” Something’s tugging on Cooper’s pants. It’s a goat, the edge of his pocket caught in her teeth. Cooper nudges her away and Whit kisses his chin, his jaw, down his neck. “But you are, and you’re stubborn enough for the two of us.”

“Me?”

Whit’s even warmer when Cooper tucks his hands up under Whit’s jacket and the shirt beneath, and his pulse shoots through his stomach at the flex in Whit’s back, how his spine moves.

“Yes, you, you asshole,” Cooper says.

“Your hands are cold.” Whit reaches back for Cooper’s wrists and cups his fingers, blinking at Cooper, his eyes soft. Cooper could twist away if he wanted to, with how loose Whit’s grip is.

Cooper swallows. Whit’s watching him so gently. It’s a new look on Whit’s face. Though isn’t all of this new? Something full and aching wells up in Cooper’s chest.