Page 82 of Cattle Stop

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.”