Melbourne

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

They were going to be having biscuits for the next week for breakfast – they were huge. The promise of food, however, did nothing to distract from whatever the hell had happened between them before Jake interrupted. It was like quicksand, and he was sinking. Charlie’s comments about lard and butter and cast irons all went to a different part of his head. He was listening, but not really. He was much more preoccupied with how she moved around the kitchen. Each time he avoided her ass or her elbow, she’d move again he ended up touching her anyway.

All distractions were gone once their project was in the oven. There was no dog to let in, their phones were silent bricks on the island, and the timer was going to take at least twenty minutes. The only thing that could possibly interrupt them was a ghost.

Before that night, Luke didn’t know how many times she could tease him before his patience ran out. Any sort of crossed wires in the past were brief and often rationalized as figments of his imagination. He realized that his threshold was incredibly low. She had to know. Like when she’d threatened to give a random girl his number at a Lake Michigan bar if he didn’t do it himself. Do it. I fucking dare you, he’d told her. And, for some reason, she dropped it.

He let her pull at the beer, but only for moment before he took it from her hands and put it on the counter. Maybe Charlie had wiped off her hands, but he hadn’t – so when he wrapped an arm around her and slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, he knew he was getting flour on her clothes. And he didn’t care. At all.

Luke grabbed a handful of her waist and squeezed, hard. “When I told you that I’d never cross that line, I lied.” He backed them up a few steps, and his boot kicked the leg of one of the island stools. He pushed it away with his foot. “Because I’m selfish.” His grip on her was tight enough that he could feel his belt buckle press against her stomach. “I will take, and take, and take. I will remind you every morning and every night exactly what your body is for, and I won’t let you forget. So you better mind yourself – ” Luke slipped a hand under her jaw and pulled at her lower lip with his thumb. “ – before I fucking make you.”

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

“Quit whining and get your hands dirty,” he drawled. Southern biscuits and ranch biscuits were different, yes. She’d balk up a storm and make fun of him if he did something sacrilegious to the unspoken recipe, as Luke was well aware. He’d grown up in a family of farm-addicted workaholics. There hadn’t been a lot of wiggle room for making anything from scratch. Surrounded by some of the best meat and produce in the country, and he ate frozen meals for dinner more often than not. Any cooking he’d picked up, he’d taught himself. “I know plenty.” A lie. “Mind yourself.”

He laughed with a mouthful of beer when she dropped the sausage patties on the counter, and he moved them towards the wall and away from the edge. When her elbow went for the flour jar, he moved that too. Luke made a mental note to carve out a few extra hours if he ever again had the bright idea to cook with a drunk Charlie.

She asked if he met anyone at the bonfire and he gave her a sharp look. There was just Sutton Ambrose, who wasn’t a romantic prospect, rather someone he needed to keep his eye on. He had a feeling that Anna was on to something when she mentioned the farm. There was no way in hell she just knew nothing at all about it. But that was a sober thing to talk about -- land, lawyers, deeds. Because Sam hadn’t left a will, everything was technically Charlie’s. Luke didn’t want to get into it all now.

“Anna tried, but I wasn’t there for that. Part of this – running it and running it right – means being a part of the community. And it’s something I’ve neglected most of my life. I’ve been thinking lately that maybe I was too closed off.” Her question was aloof, like she was asking about the weather tomorrow. He would’ve asked about Noah, but he’d seen it with his own eyes – and the way he would’ve asked wouldn’t have been anywhere near aloof. He didn’t need her summary. He also didn’t need her pissed at him for putting his nose where it didn’t belong.

The last thing to mix in was the cubed butter, but he wanted to wait until the last minute, when the oven was heated. He pre-set it, and when there wasn’t much left to do, he looked at her, long and hard and openly.

Her fucking accent could take him to church. They had a different kind of way with their talking up in Montana. Her several years there had changed the way she spoke a bit, but Lord the things he’d do to feel those words against his skin.

There’s nothing about this right now that I want to rush, he thought. Not a goddamn thing.

Luke’s beer was empty, so hooked a finger around the neck of hers and urged her to take a step or two closer to him. “I don’t know.” His voice was stuck somewhere in the back of his chest. He pulled the bottle some, until it touched the front of his stained t-shirt. “Depends on how much trouble you end up causing me.” When he pictured “taking care” of her in the morning, it had not a single thing to do with coffee and Advil. He needed to stop staring at her mouth, because if he wasn’t careful, he was going to do something about it.

A sharp bark outside made him step away from her. It was Jake asking to be let in.

He opened the sliding door and was hit with a cool rush of early-September air, as well as a reality check. Make biscuits. Eat. Go to bed. Close your eyes. Wake up tomorrow.

The shepherd went to his water bowl, and Luke got a fresh beer from the fridge. He wiped any flour off on his jeans, took the butter from the freezer, and started to cut it into cubes. “You know where that biscuit mold is?” he asked. He knew he’d spend ten minutes looking for it and get annoyed in the meantime.

As he put the biscuits on the tray, he put a question out there before he thought better of it. “What in the hell is the lard for, Charlie?”

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

Luke eyed her when she climbed into the truck, unsure if he was going to have to help her or not. But she was fine. Barely. He started the engine and paused when she got into the middle seat instead of the passenger’s.

“Two beers,” he told her, “and lots of food. I told you I was going to bring you home any time, and I meant it.” He’d run out of fingers and toes if he tried to count the number of times Sam or his father got too drunk to drive and insisted on doing it anyway, even when they knew Matthew had gotten hit by a drunk driver. It’d always bothered him. Coupled with his temper, Luke had no business hitting the bottle hard when he wasn’t in a good headspace. It was a recipe for disaster. He’d do things like yell in Sam’s face and tell him he’d never fuck his wife, even if he was dead. Normal, healthy stuff.

Her stupid phone lit up, and he forced himself not to look at it. It wasn’t his business.

“Here.” Luke reached around Charlie, grabbed the seatbelt, and buckled her in. He pulled the end so the fabric was taught around her waist, and he gave it a hard tug. “Safety first,” he teased. Truthfully, he didn’t trust himself to not reach over and put his hand on her thigh, where it didn’t belong. And he didn’t necessarily trust her either. She’d been touching him one way or another since she’d sat next to him at the picnic table.

Back at the house, Jake bounded out the sliding door and circled the both of them before bolting off to the barn. In many ways, the dog was like a safety net. If he noticed something wrong, like an open gate, he’d bark until he got someone’s attention. He was an excellent farm companion.

Initially, Luke was apprehensive about being in the house again. He was afraid that its weight would surround them or settle like dust on their shoulders. But they’d actually done a lot to make it more “theirs” in the last few weeks. A growing winter-prep chore list was on the fridge, tucked between the many photos Sam had taken over the years and a running tally of groceries they needed if one of them went to town. At least two of Luke’s work hats were hanging on hooks by the door. The island had junk mail, the keys to the Chevy, and a dirty plate from when Luke was eating a snack while Charlie got ready for the bonfire.

He took the plate and put in the sink, and he got two beers from the fridge. Brow raised, he handed one to Charlie. “Nobody’s going to call us too drunk if we’re in the house. And I was serious about the biscuits.” Luke took some flour down from the cabinet and put a few sticks of butter in the freezer so they’d be as cold as possible. “You’re helping me. This was your idea, and you’re not getting out of it.”

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

Luke knew exactly why everyone was staring at them. They wanted to see for themselves what “it” was. Why his old barber had asked if Charlie was his wife. Why Luke had punched one of the Atkinson brothers when he talked shit. Why Mack couldn’t touch his truck, of all things. Why he was fucking living with her. Her lack of sobriety was like a clear window into their lives, like how she talked to him with less robust critical reasoning skills. Luke and Charlie: The Director’s Cut.

This is it! he wanted to shout at the table. Is everyone happy?

Her arm rested against his chest, and he could smell the woodsmoke and beer on her. It went straight to his brain. Luke wanted to pull her onto his lap and wrap his arm around her waist. Instead, he picked up the abandoned club soda and took a deep swallow from the can, hyperaware of how hot her skin was under palm. Slowly, he realized he was gripping her knee a little too firmly. He relaxed some but didn’t move his hand.

When she mentioned biscuits, his gaze moved from her eyes, to her mouth, and back again. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. They were too close. She was too goddamn close to him. Never in a million years would they sit like this at the house. But at a bonfire, when everyone was drinking, it was suddenly permissible. He could feel Charlie’s phone vibrate once in her pocket, right against his thigh, and he mentally begged her not to check it.

“I’ll make you anything you want – ” He paused, catching an endearment before it dared to come out of his mouth. “ -- Charlie,” he tacked on at the end.

His strange statement made Mack hit the guy next to him with the back of his hand. “I forgot I have wood in the back of the truck. Want to help me bring it to the fire?” Before they took their beers and left, Mack added, "Listen, if we don't see you two before you leave, drive safely, okay?"

Anna seemed like she was going to get up, but she changed her mind at the last second. “I’m glad you both came out. It’s nice to see you somewhere besides the precinct and the bar for once. And Mack's right -- drive safely. We have a squad car at the bottom of the hill.” She winked, squeezed Charlie’s hand, and gave Luke a look that, for the first time since he’d known her, he could not read.

He thanked her and gave Charlie's knee a final squeeze before letting go. “Come on, Calamity Jane," he said, getting up even though he all of a sudden he didn't want to. Charlie seemed…happy. Lighter. Good, almost. He didn't want to do anything that would ruin her brief mental peace.

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

Luke’s phone glowed in the dark with texts from Charlie. I’m drunk. He twisted around in his seat at the cop bench and tried to look for her. As evening moved to nighttime, most of the crowd had changed and gotten increasingly more rowdy. Many were at the bonfire, gravitating towards light and warmth.

Luke [21:41] Where are you? I’ll find you.

As soon as he sent the text, he decided to call her instead. Straight to voicemail. He asked the table, “Has anyone seen Charlie?” All he got in response was some mumbles and shrugs.

Then he heard Anna softly say, “Found her.”

It was damn clear that she wasn’t walking by herself, and as she got closer, Luke realized that it was probably because she couldn’t. Something must’ve happened to his face because Anna and Mack started talking at the same time. It’s okay, man. Take it easy. Luke, it’s not a big deal. He had a hard time taking it easy in general, and while someone else’s hand basically down Charlie’s shorts when she was drunk wasn’t apocalyptic, it wasn’t just fine either.

He didn’t know if he’d ever seen her like this before. Drunk, sure, but she could always do things on her own. The cynical voice in the back of his head told him that she wanted this guy’s arm around her, and that’s why it was happening. The reasonable voice told him that if it was against her will, she would’ve broken his hand off. Then there was the last voice. The one that came out of his mouth. “Come sit with me, Charlie.” Worried eyes moved over her face. “Please.”

The man with her was giving Luke a weird look, like he was a felon, and only at Anna’s insistence (“we’re cops, Noah, nothing bad is going to happen to her”) did he say something in Charlie’s ear and go back off into the crowd.

Luke held out his hand to Charlie so she could sit next to him on the bench. He gave her a can of club soda that he’d found and wrapped his fingers around her knee. Had she eaten? How many beers did she have? Did she drink liquor? Smoke weed? Was it her medication? Was she even still taking medication? A rolodex of concerns flipped through his brain as he tried to find her eyes.

“Are you hungry? We can go. I can make you something.”

They were surrounded by enough food to feed the entire Chicago school district, but more than anything, Luke just wanted to leave. With Charlie. Now.

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

After three weeks in a farmhouse with Charlotte McCormick, Luke had fallen into a routine. He taught himself how to sleep in the guest room at night, which consisted of a box fan, waking up at 2am, smoking a cigarette, and softly cursing for another hour while he worked the muscles of his chest with his thumb, willing them to relax. At around 5:00, he woke and had coffee with Charlie while they made breakfast. He’d taken to two eggs, bacon and cheese in a tortilla. They made several of them, and he kept them in the Igloo cooler during the morning farm chores. He would then shower, break for lunch, and do odd jobs around the property. He fixed the light in the barn, filled in the potholes in the driveway, and built a second chicken coop. If they weren’t careful, they’d turn into a hen farm – Luke had a way with chickens somehow, even though he hated them. At night, he ran Jake until he was tired while Charlie made dinner. It took long enough, but after two weeks he stopped watching what she ate like a hawk when he caught her downstairs in the middle of the night once, eating a biscuit in his t-shirt.

That’s not to say there weren’t bad days. One morning, he woke up and she didn’t. He let her be and mucked stalls all day in the rain, figuring that the last thing she needed in the morning was to deal with horse shit.

Once a week, he saw a physical therapist in Bozeman for his injury, courtesy of the VA. The top of her head barely came to his armpit, but she had hands like a Russian gymnast and no tolerance for Luke’s flimsy excuses about why he wasn’t tending to his daily morning exercises. She was at least sixty, half Native, and had no filter. She told him not to shoot himself in the chest anymore with the pain injections – in fact, she told him to throw them out and stop smoking cigarettes. Further, she suggested he take up swimming and start yoga. At this, he deadpan stared at her and insisted that there was nowhere to swim in Hingham Valley. Sex will also do, she said, digging her thumb into his pectoral in such a way that tears came to his eyes. It sends endorphins to the brain and muscles. No hitting or crazy stuff. Don’t let her punch you. The truth was, Luke liked being hit, and the best he could do was jerk off in the shower every few days. This always required turning his brain off, because if he turned it on, the things he wanted to see and feel would’ve sent him to hell.

He got beers once with Anna, and it was immediately evident that her new hobby was trying to find someone for him to date.

You can’t just not try at all, she insisted. Besides your honestly weird roommate situation, your only problem is your attitude.

Luke sighed and put his head in his hands. I’m not doing this tonight, Anna. Please.

I’m your friend, and I’m not watching this torture bullshit anymore. It’s depressing. She didn’t let him get a word in before she pressed on. You’re coming to our party on Saturday, and you’re going to talk to people who aren’t Charlie. Her fucking husband died in a horrible way, and it’s going to take her years to get over that. She’s not going to use you for sex because she cares about you – she’s going to use someone else, someone she can walk away from, someone that can take collateral damage. And you need to let her.

---

Maybe this was a mistake.

Luke spent most of the drive to the barbeque trying not to look at the frayed hemline of Charlie’s shorts so he wouldn’t get in a car accident, but if he was being honest with himself, he was proud of her for just going out and doing something. While their last few weeks had gone without any major incidents, it was mostly, well…boring. Which for them, was very welcome.

“Anna being right all the time pisses me off sometimes,” he said, “but a barbeque is low stakes and easy. You know mostly everyone. There’s food and beer.” Luke took the empty bottle from her hand and put in the cup holder between them. He leaned on the console and looked at her, hard. “We can go any time. Just find me. Text me. There’s no harm in trying.”

He'd been taking less pain meds as his injury healed, and while it was significantly better, it wasn’t a hundred percent. He could have a few beers but nothing crazy. Again, he stressed to Charlie that they could leave any time – in five minutes, even.

He tapped the side of her bare knee with his knuckles and said with a small grin, “What’s the worst that could happen?” Several terrible scenarios, all of them ending with Charlie yelling at him in the truck, tumbled through his head. But he remembered what Anna had told him last week. You need to let her. He was going to be on his best behavior. For both of their sakes.

Even though it took more grace than he was willing to extend, Luke was perfectly nice to Mack, who was the first to greet them – or Charlie, as it were. It’s nice to see you guys, there’s plenty of food, the drinking has only gotten started, I hope you all like whiskey, etc., etc. Luke dodged two kids running around with sparklers while he shook hands and tipped his hat to at least half of Hingham Valley. Several guys unloaded large truckloads of scrap wood up by the top of the field, for what he had a feeling was going to be a bonfire bigger than the house.

An arm locked around his elbow and pulled him to the side. “There you are! Finally,” Anna said. “I saw Charlie but not you yet. I thought I was going to have to send a car up that goddamn hill of yours for a wellness check.”

Ten years ago, a lobotomy was the only way anyone would be able to get Luke to sit at a table with a bunch of cops, laughing and drinking beer. Everyone wore flannels or t-shirts, and if he squinted real hard, he could pretend they were all normal people.

It was about an hour, just as it was getting dark, before Luke broke down and texted Charlie.

Luke [20:41]: Are you still here?

He had another beer and ate a pulled pork sandwich. Only a small amount got on his white t-shirt, and rubbing at it with a napkin only made it worse. He picked up his phone again.

Luke [21:18]: Just let me know.

Anna gave him a look, but he ignored her and went to the beer tent to get a water or something for the stain on his shirt. He rummaged through the coolers, finding nothing but booze, and he swore – but he sure straightened the fuck up when he heard a woman’s voice behind him, even over the music and hollering.

“There’s only beer in there, honey.”

“Apparently,” he muttered, eyeing the stranger. She was suspiciously pretty. Long legs, dark blonde hair, sundress, cowboy boots. Also, he didn’t recognize her, which he didn’t like.

Her hands were soft and she smelled like suntan lotion when she touched his arm, turning him towards her. “You need club soda.” She was too close and she knew it. Luke grit his teeth. “You’re gonna have to tough it out until you find some. I’m Sutton, by the way.”

“Luke.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke. Listen, once you have a few more beers and loosen up a bit, why don’t you come find me and ask me to dance? Won’t hurt you none.” She tapped his fingers to his chest and left, beer in hand.

Back at the table, Luke immediately found Anna and asked her if he knew someone named Sutton. “I didn’t recognize her,” he explained, “and she was very…direct. Like she knew something I didn’t.”

“Jesus Christ, Sutton is here?”

“Who is that?”

“Sutton Ambrose, Luke. Wilson’s fucking daughter. Private tutors and horseback riding lessons. That kind of girl. Her daddy sent her to law school in New York, and looks like she’s back now.”

“How much do you want to bet it was property law?” Luke asked, watching her move through the crowd like she owned the place.

“Every dollar I have. And double-or-nothing on Sutton already having done a hell of a background check on your farm. She knows exactly who you are.”

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

When Luke was seventeen, he got arrested for vandalizing Henry O’Rourke’s Jeep Comanche with a baseball bat. They were at a party in the O’Rourke cornfield and everyone had their trucks parked around the bonfire. Beers, kids, shitty music. He remembered that Anna was drunk and kept trying to put her hands under his shirt. Everything went south when Henry made a comment about Luke’s Chevy.

Where’d you get that? You steal it?

Mind your fucking business, Luke said, tossing an empty beer can into the fire.

Answer my question.

Get away from me, Hank. You’re drunk. In truth, his dad had felt bad for him after their mom died, so he bought Luke a truck. Sam was almost sixteen, so he’d gotten a shotgun instead. ‘My mom died so I have this truck now,’ seemed stupid coming out of his mouth, so he said nothing.

We all know you don’t have the money, Henry said with a smirk, and someone like you would rather steal it than get it the hard way.

Whether Luke chose not to remember or he’d been so angry that he truly didn’t know what he was doing, he got his baseball bat from his front seat one second – and the next he was on top of Henry’s truck, smashing out the windows and denting the hood, the cab, everything. He could still hear Anna’s screaming. Luke, stop! Fucking stop it! What is wrong with you? Just stop!

The judge gave him a hundred hours of community service, courtesy of his lawyer, who made a case that Luke’s mother had just died and he was seeing an anger management specialist. In turn, his father gave the Chevy to Sam and told Luke that he could work on the farm to pay off the legal fees. I shouldn’t, his father had said, because you belong in prison, but you wouldn’t last a second there anyways.

---

He seems like quite the handful, as per usual.

Luke knew that if he clenched his jaw any harder, his teeth would break. How strange it was that his pulse was baseline when he invaded terrorist camps, but now that someone put his hand on his truck, his blood pressure could raise the dead. But it wasn’t about the truck, and he knew that. Just like it wasn’t about the truck when he was seventeen.

“Thank you for your input, Charlie,” he bit out. If anyone thought that she was going to sit there with her mouth shut, then she was not the woman that he’d fallen in love with. What the fuck was he giving her anyway? A business card? For what? They had two fucking cows.

He felt Anna’s hand at his wrist, and he stiffened. God he would pay money to shake off the past. To forget the sound of her voice when she begged him to stop swinging the baseball bat. “Luke,” she warned. “Don’t.”

Luke ran his tongue around the inside of his teeth and looked at Mack. “I thought I saw something else,” he finally lied. “I didn’t mean to round on you like that. Wasn’t in my right mind.”

The other man thumped him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. No hard feelings, okay?” Mack tipped two fingers at them and gave Charlie a small smile that could only be an apology, and he went back inside the precinct. Somehow, this was worse than Anna arresting him in the parking lot for beating the shit out of another officer. It was way, way worse for someone to treat you with pity, like you we something to feel sorry for. He’d rather set the entire town on fire.

Anna gripped his elbow and sighed. “Listen. Being out and around other people would probably be good for you both.” So Luke didn’t act like a rabid dog when someone touched a fucking mirror. “I’m dating this new guy, and he has a pig roast the first Saturday of every month. Fire, music, kegs, food. You know,” she said, eyes moving from Luke to Charlie and back again, “…normal people stuff. When you want to. Open invitation.” She let out a deep breath and then put her hands up. “I’m just saying. Now, I’ll see you all later. And hopefully not because a law is broken, I’m begging you.”

Even after Anna left, Luke took a moment to get back in the truck. He closed the door and put an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“What do you do when people treat you like that?” he asked Charlie. “Like they feel bad for you?”

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

Luke blinked, slightly caught off-guard by her unaffected response to his internal shirt war. Charlie insisting that he wasn’t an asshole was like finding a $100 on the ground. Sheer luck. It also confirmed that he was making a big deal out of something that was completely normal and didn’t need to be a thing. They had enough bullshit already – he didn’t need to go around and make up his own on top of it all.

“It doesn’t bother me,” he announced loudly at Charlie’s back as he followed her outside. This time, anyway. He put on his sunglasses and stuck another toothpick in his mouth. It was a vain attempt to cut back on smoking. He still went through half a pack a day, but it was better than the two packs he sucked down whenever he was deployed.

As soon as he got in the truck and turned it on, his phone connected to Bluetooth and started playing Patsy Cline, which he’d been listening to during yesterday’s bus ride in. Luke jabbed at the console and changed it to satellite radio, a sports talk station, so it was something to both listen to and ignore at the same time. He stuck an elbow out he window while he drove, making mental notes to fill in some spots of the small dirt road that led to the farmhouse before winter hit and it was all shot to hell. At every opportunity, he wiped dust off all surfaces he could reach. Sam usually took his truck out a few times while Luke was gone, but he clearly hadn’t been able to do that in the last month and a half.

Luke talked about dumb shit until the fields gave way to residences, and finally the town center itself. The stop sign still has buckshot in it, huh? That house hasn’t sold yet? Are you hungry? Should we stop for sandwiches?

Hingham Valley proper was an elementary-junior-high combo, the feed store, a small supermarket, the church, the library – small town stuff. Because it was one of the last stops before things got truly scarce closer to the Centennial Mountains, there was also some tourist shit, like coffee shops and an outdoor gear exchange. Most residents didn’t need things like a mechanic because they just found someone they knew to help with the work.

They did, however, need a police station. It was smaller, but most of it worked closely with the livestock commission. People there didn’t care much about speeding, and the only crimes that really existed had to do with drunken fights and cattle.

Luke’s truck rolled into the lot, and he’d barely parked before Mack Jennings, one of the commissioners, came out the front door with his police vest and Oakleys on. He waved at them, his other hand stuck in the armpit of his vest. His homebase was in Helena, but boy did he love coming around to all the farms and ranches to check on cattle numbers. “Good morning!” Mack called out. “Hot out here, ain’t it?”

Luke just kind of squinted at him and didn’t wave back. Now, perhaps, he was being an asshole.

Another officer came out of the building, followed by Anna, who was carrying a clear plastic bag, containing what Luke assumed were the things from his pockets a year ago.

Anna Bowers was shorter, with dark blond hair and a big smile. Her often sunny demeanor deluded strangers into thinking she was a pushover, but as far as Luke was concerned, she was as hard-nosed as they came. She’d worked like hell to be chief.

“Saw you in the drive,” she said, coming right up to the driver’s side and putting her elbows in the window. “Thought I’d save you from coming inside.” The bag was clutched in her hand, but she didn’t give it to him yet. “Hi, Charlie. Good to see you – ”

They were interrupted by Mack coming around to the other side of the Ram and leaning against the passenger’s side door. He started talking to Charlie, and Luke muttered something that sounded an awful lot like “Jesus fucking Christ” before he asked Anna to move so he could open the door. Get me out of this truck.

“You have a second?” he asked her. “I want to talk to you.”

Anna was all grins and an aggravating amount of what Luke suspected was gleeful as she followed him far enough away from the truck that he could no longer hear Mack’s voice.

“It’s nice to see you too,” she laughed. “Here’s your stuff. Nothing much, but it is technically yours, so I have to return it.” It was spare change, a punch card to the feed store, and half-empty pack of chewing gum.

Luke stared at her, but he couldn’t read her expression behind her aviators. “And what else?” he pressed.

“Nothing else.”

“Anna, for fuck’s sake – ”

“Listen, I know you don’t want people to hang on you about Sam, so I figured I’d never actually see you unless I created a reason.” She wasn’t wrong. He was dreading having the whole town apologize to him, especially because Sam was the golden boy and his death was sudden and tragic. He didn’t want to be treated like a sad, lonely leper because his entire family was dead now. “I told you I was sorry when you were in Germany,” she reminded him, “and I’m going to leave it at that. Okay? But I’m here, Luke. If you need anything. Ever.”

He fought the urge to light up a cigarette. “I know. And I appreciate it, I do – I just…” His gaze wandered back to the truck, and Anna caught it.

“How’s she holding up?”

Luke shook his head and didn’t answer because he didn’t really know how to. He doubted Charlie ate or slept. She seemed like she was on autopilot most of the time, but he got her out of the house, which he considered to be a big step. From even fifteen feet away, he saw Mack’s gun touch the side of the truck when he talked to Charlie, and a tendon in his neck threatened to come out of his skin. “If that fucker scratches my paint, I’m going to kill him.”

Anna put his hand on his chest. “Relax. She’s pretty, doesn’t have kids, and everyone knows she just got two hundred acres and is sitting on a gold mine. Mack just has a little less grace than other people. Luke. Look at me.” He did. “I know that you two are basically like this living HBO drama, but this town cares about you both. A lot. Nobody is out to take anything away from you.” There was also an implicit “anyone” in there somewhere, but Luke chose to ignore it.

“What does that mean? HBO drama – ” He cursed when he saw Mack put a hand on top of the passenger's door mirror, and he shouted across the lot. “Enough! Jesus fuck! Are you an idiot?" Luke approached the tailgate and pointed at Mack when he got closer. "Five feet from the truck. Back up."

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

Luke pulled at the collar of his shirt. He supposed he did stink. “I don’t need to – ” He started to protest, but he stopped when he realized he was just doing it to Charlie’s retreating back. He sighed and went back into the house, leaving the door open for Jake, who was lucky he was a dog and did not fall into the category of immediately needing to bathe.

While Charlie showered, he finished his second granola bar and made a list at the island of the errands they needed to do while they were in town. Food – all. Police station. Feed store. Chickens? Box fan. He stopped when he felt his stomach about to consume the rest of his body, so he got a stale piece of bread and put butter on it.

Water must’ve been Charlie’s power-up source because she was on something when she came back into the kitchen. Various different response options flooded Luke’s brain.

How many of my shirts do you have, hm? Look at me. How many?

There’s a recruitment office in Billings. You seem interested in joining.

So that’s the plan? You’re going to sit in my truck and wear my shirt while I ask another woman to dinner?

Take it off. Before I take it off for you.

He said none of these things. Instead, brown eyes moved to her chest, where “ARMY” sat in large letters, and then back up to her face. He walked up to her and reached for the hem of the tee. He gave it a small tug with a dirty hand. Mine. “Because you want me to go so bad,” he said darkly, “the police station is the first stop.”

Luke stepped away, stuffed the rest of the bread in his mouth, and went upstairs to shower. It was still humid from its recent usage, and he could smell which shampoo she’d used. Flirting with his dead brother’s wife six weeks after he’d died was going to send him to hell. Touching his dick while he knew she was downstairs thinking about what he’d said – also, straight to hell. He kept his hands away from his lower half while he went through all the shower bottles, squinting at them under the water. The differences between Sam’s and Charlie’s were obvious, but if memory served, there was still one that he’d bought near Christmas, sitting on the edge of the tub. He scrubbed himself with it in a hopeful attempt that it’d also clean the inside of his mouth so he wouldn’t say any more stupid shit to Charlie, at least for the rest of the day.

As a premise, Luke didn’t wear shorts unless he was planning on getting in a body of water or sleeping, so he came back downstairs in (clean) work pants and a dark gray shirt. Maybe it would be better at hiding his sweat stains. He cuffed the sleeves at his biceps, knowing it wouldn’t be nearly as cooling as the cut-off tanks he usually favored in the summer – but he didn’t need the entire town seeing his scars and asking him questions he didn’t want to answer.

He grabbed his hat off the counter and stuffed his wallet in his back pocket. “I like it when you wear my things,” he finally admitted. “It makes me – ” What? Fucking weird was what it made him. It was literally just a shirt. She probably had them laying around and wore them because it didn’t matter if they got dirty or not. Not because they were “his.” He needed to calm down. Luke looked at her. “I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. Wear what you want.”

Gold and Silver [Serenia/Melbourne]

Where were they going? 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?”