Where were they [i]going?[/i] The barn, the gates, the chicken coop, the pig pen. The store, the feed mart, the police station. What did she think they were going to do all day? Sit inside and play checkers? Fight and pretend like they didn’t want to rip each other’s clothes off? She killed him sometimes. He was doing this farm with her goddamnit, not around her. Caught somewhere between amused and annoyed, he put his sunglasses on top of the brim of his hat and topped off a travel mug with black coffee while she changed.

It was clear that Jake was used to routine, and without Sam doing chores first thing in the morning, the dog lingered by the door and looked up at Luke every so often. He’d go outside, then back in, huff at Luke, and whine. “Gotta wait for your mommy, bub,” Luke mumbled to the shepherd, scratching behind his ears. “We’re gonna work all day and sleep like bricks tonight, or I swear.”

The thing about Charlie was that she was a grown adult person. She likely owned thirty different t-shirts, sweatshirts, and other various things she could put on her body that weren’t his. Though he’d never told her because the words would’ve sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, she knew damn well how he felt about her wearing his things. He wanted to tell her to go upstairs and change, to quit making him think things that he shouldn’t – but he squeezed the back of his neck instead and said a somewhat tight “let’s go” on his way out the door. 

There were three trucks in the drive. The used and abused work Chevy, Sam’s F150, and Luke’s Ram that he admittedly spent an embarrassing amount of time waxing and polishing whenever he was home. He could be weirdly detail-oriented with some things, like his truck, but others, like where he’d left his wallet, were an entirely different situation. He was pretty sure that if he put the Chevy on an actual road, it’d fall apart before it got to town.

It was scorching outside, even at dawn. The late August sun held a haze as it rose, and Luke was already sweating when he got in the Chevy. He cranked all the windows down and shooed Jack into the backseat. Every glass surface was covered in dog slobber, the seats were falling apart, and there was a small country’s worth of mud caked onto the floormats.

He stared at the pictures inside the visor when Charlie pulled it down. His heart jacknifed in his chest, and he wondered how many pieces of Sam that they were going to find throughout the day. He had a feeling that there were going to be many. Sam had always fostered a love for taking pictures. Like Luke, he knew how brief life could be sometimes. But, the pictures had to stay. Hiding them or getting rid of them was out of the question, at least for Luke. “I know,” was all he said, voice barely audible. “I know.”

Though twenty-five years old, the truck took the worn path to the barn like a champ. Luke reached over at one point and opened the glove box, his arm accidentally brushing Charlie’s knee as he rummaged around. “Here,” he said, giving her a pad of paper and a thick contractor’s pencil that’d been sharpened with a pocket knife. “We have to start writing down all this stuff we have to do. Two months until winter. Just doesn’t feel like it.” 

If Charlie paid attention, she’d notice that Luke only lifted or moved things with his right arm. He used his left hand plenty, but he never raised it above his chest. With all the heat, the cows and horses were better left in the shade of the barn, but if they didn’t let the goats out – at least while they ran errands in town – they’d cause ruckus and hell. Jake was actually the best with them, and he herded them up the hill into their pen, where Luke filled their feed trays and water bottles. The chickens were his least favorite, simply because the amount he had to bury out in the second pasture because foxes had gotten to them was too many. However, they were stupid and cheap to take care of, and their eggs were incredibly useful. He put two dozen in some spare cartons and stuck them in an old Igloo cooler in the truck bed. They didn’t need to be cool – just preferably not boiled by the time they got to town.

All in all, feeding and checking on everything took about two hours. On a regular day, the rest belonged to maintenance and chores, and the more Luke looked around, the bigger the list in his head grew.

“Is nine in the morning too early for ice cream?” he asked Charlie as he parked the work truck next to his so they could switch vehicles. Already he smelled like sweat and could feel his shirt sticking to his chest. He angled his hat down over his eyes to help with the sun and took a long drink out of the gallon of water from the Igloo. He handed it to Charlie. “Or am I being a bitch?”