Page 38 of Rough
“Dad’s not even in the ground yet.”
That fucking hurt.
A lot.
Henri was so kind once we left the bar, asking if I was alright. I reassured him I have no problems dealing with temperamental children, then finished signing the paperwork from the USDA.
This deal washugefor both the Landrys and me. Donny and I originally signed for the federal grant together, which not only gave me some funds to make repairs around the farm, but the bulk of the grant money went to Donny’s medical bills. Insurance only covers so much, and they had an awfully high copay. Every penny helped, and now that the panels are in, it’s cut down on Renee’s bills significantly.
She’s been getting the kickback from the town as they buy the power back, and I’ll continue to ensure she gets it going forward. The only thing we needed at my farm was to repair one of my barn roofs and I invested in my freezer for my samples taken to breed my females once I have extra hands around.
Whichstillhas been non-existent since the guys got back into town. I’m fully convinced now they’ve got a hand in my lack of farm… well, hands.
Saying fuck it to the day, I grab a bottle of whiskey from above my fridge as soon as I get home, then begin the fifteen-minute walk through the field to the pond. Taking a flashlight along to prevent any accidental steps into cowpies left, I eventually find myself standing at the water’s edge.
Tossing my jacket on the ground, I sit on it, cross my legs, then unscrew the cap of my whiskey and swallow down a mouthful, wincing at the burn.
What a fucking shitshow this entire week has been!
I’ve got an early morning, but I can’t convince myself to leave this place. Drinking isn’t my favorite thing, either, but tonight feels like the appropriate time for drowning out memories and anger and regrets.
Eventually, I hear the murmuring of an engine in the distance. Lights bounce and flicker through the trees until I’m shielding my eyes from the high beams as a large SUV comes to a stop just as it breaks through the trees.
My stomach sinks because Iknowit’s them.
Taking another sip from the bottle, I remain seated as doors open, then slam shut, and feet pound on the dirt before Remy shouts.
“I wanna talk with you!”
His demand comes out slurred and almost intelligible. More likeI wannnna sshtalk witchu.
My hand is still blocking the lights from blinding me, so I know they can all see how hard I roll my eyes. “Alright, cowboy. Would you mind droppin’ the lights? I’d prefer not to go blind tonight.”
A soft, “Shoot,” comes from Wilder, but I can’t see where he’s at until the lights disappear. After pocketing the keys, he hurriesto Clyde’s side to help him stand upright and they both follow Remy’s stumbling ass over to me.
Should I be worried that at least two of these imbeciles are drunk as skunks? Probably, but I’m not so far gone that I can’t handle my own. Besides, I’ve been around them pissed off before and wasted. I’m confident they’re going to just plant their asses in the dirt and glare at me.
Which is exactly what happens. Remy falls to his knees, then backwards as he drops to his ass. Wilder helps Clyde down to the ground, then stops him when he tries to crawl closer to me. “Just stay right here, man.”
“Wanna sit by Country,” he complains, and I huff out a laugh, taking another sip.
“You all smell like a fuckin’ distillery.” Pointing the end of my bottle to the pond, I nod my head toward the water. “Why don’t ya’ll jump in there? Let the cold sober your asses up a bit before you start runnin’ your mouths and accusin’ me of shit you know nothin’ about.”
My eyebrows shoot up when both Remy and Clyde start shucking their clothes off down to their briefs and fall into the water. The splashing and gasps of, “Fuckin’hell,this shit is cold,” force me to bite my lip and hold in my desire to lose myself to bubbling laughter.
I glance sideways at Wilder, who’s grinning at me, enjoying their predicament. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he calls to them. “Dunk your heads a few times to clear the liquor from your heads!”
“If I start drownin’, you better get your fat ass in here and pull me out!” Remy shouts back at him, but for the first time I’ve witnessed since he’s been back, there’s no heat or fury behind his words.
Wilder chuckles at them flopping around in the water. “Noted. I’ll even give ya some mouth to mouth if you need it.”
“Country can. Not you,” Clyde sputters, wiping the water from his face, then drops under the surface again. He’s never complained much about the cold, considering the number of late-night swims he and I have taken together.
“Nope,” I clip out. “You get Wild or nothin’. Heard he’s a real good kisser, too. Don’t think you’d mind much.” Flicking my eyes toward Wilder. I let my lip curl up when I add, “Maybe he’ll even give ya a little tongue.”
I can’t read the look in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop watching me when he leans forward and tugs my bottle from my fingers. “I’m gonna catch up to them. You drunk, Bets?”
“Not yet, but I’m gonna be real soon if you all keep pissin’ me off.”
