Page 12 of Evergreen Desires
“Even now, apart from a couple teenagers starting to figure themselves out, I don’t think there are any other gay guys in Armsville. Just me and Beau.”
He said it lightly, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just something he’d learned to live with. But I saw the way his shoulders hunched forward as he leaned back under the hood—just a little. The way he didn’t quite meet my eyes.
He wasn’t bitter. But he wasn’t untouched by it, either.
"So, you and Beau were never a couple?"
"Ha, no, not really. There was one time in the showers in the locker room after football practice, but that was just a silly, touchy-feely thing that went nowhere and ended with both of us laughing at ourselves."
"That was a lot of information to share with someone you just met," I remarked, raising an eyebrow.
"Beau mentioned this morning that you have some trust issues. I’m just trying to be honest and upfront. I'm guessing you've been burned recently?" Will's gaze met mine, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding.
"You could say that. I'm still dealing with it. He didn't really leave me with many options," I confessed, looking off into the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a deer near a row of trees. Without thinking, I raised my camera and captured a quick picture.
“Photographer?” Will asked, his attention snapping fully to me.
I hesitated, fingers brushing the strap of my camera like it might give me the words I didn’t quite have. “Sort of.”
He waited, clearly expecting more.
“It was a gift,” I added, glancing down at the camera. “From my mom. Just before she passed.” The words came quieter than I meant them to, and I felt the old familiar ache tug at my ribs. “She always said I had an eye for it. Believed in me even when I didn’t.”
Will nodded, respectful. Patient.
“I took a few classes,” I continued, more carefully now. “Nothing official. Just community college stuff. Was working nights mostly—waiting tables, bar shifts. You know, the classic ‘struggling artist’ cliché.”
A smile flickered at my lips, but it didn’t stick.
“My ex didn’t really… get it,” I said, my voice cooling. “Thought it was a waste of time. Money. Said if it didn’t come with a paycheck, it wasn’t a real job.”
I shrugged, trying to play it off. “So yeah… I dropped the classes. Put the camera away for a while. Figured maybe it wasn’t in the cards.”
There was a pause. Will didn’t say anything, and I appreciated that more than he probably knew.
I looked out toward the trees just beyond the barn doors, where the light was starting to shift. “Lately though… I don’t know. Feels like maybe I want to try again. Even if it’s just for me this time.”
"Don't let other people decide your dreams for you. You need to make your dreams a reality," Will advised. I sensed a hint of personal experience behind his words. "I think you'll find some interesting things in the woods here. Things you can capture through your lens. If anyone can do it, it's you," Will added, his voice filled with mystery. What could be lurking in these woods that only I could capture?
Returning to the topic, I saw my opening and took it. “So… this is both a Christmas tree farmanda pot farm?”
I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear how he’d explain it.
Will smirked, straightening up from where he’d been checking a hose line. “Yeah. Kinda wild, right? It started out as a Christmas tree farm—still is, technically. One of the biggest in the area, actually. Been in Beau’s family forever.”
He wiped his hands on his jeans and leaned back against the side of the barn.
“We both worked here in high school. You know—planting trees, hauling them around during the holidays, pretending we weren’t freezing our asses off.”
A laugh slipped out of me, and he grinned.
“Anyway, Beau took over after his dad retired and headed off to the Georgia coast. That was, what… ten years ago now?” Will scratched his jaw, thinking. “Yeah, about that.”
His gaze drifted toward the greenhouses near the edge of the property. “A few years after that, he started building those. One at a time. Turned into a full cannabis operation before anyone around here really knew howserious he was about it. Now it’s… well, it’s doing pretty damn well.”
There was a quiet pride in his voice—nothing boastful, just earned.
“He doesn’t talk it up much,” Will added. “But trust me, it’s a big deal.”
