He looks at us with pure disgust.
“You’re pathetic,” he spits. “All of you. Billy’s a mess, and you two are just waiting in the wings like vultures. I never should have come back to this town. I never should have come home.”
“You didn’t have to,” Tex says.
“I know,” Joey says. “And I won’t make that mistake again.”
He turns to walk away. And then he pauses.
He’s looking past us. Toward the bunkhouse.
I turn around, and my heart stops.
Standing a few yards away, near the corner of the barn, are two figures.
Sedona. And Billy.
They’re frozen. Sedona’s face is pale, her eyes wide. She has her arms wrapped around herself.
Billy is standing in front of her, but he’s not looking at Joey. He’s looking at me.
He heard it. He heard everything.
You’ve got a hard-on for her too.
The secret I’ve kept for five years—the secret I thought I had buried so deep no one would find it—is out.
Billy knows. Sedona knows.
Billy’s looks at me, and then at Tex. He sees the guilt. He sees the longing we can’t hide.
His expression shifts. It’s not anger. It’s worse. It’s resignation.
He looks tired.
“Billy…” I start to say.
But I can’t finish. I don’t know what to say.
Joey sees them too. He scoffs again, shaking his head.
“Perfect,” he mutters. “Just fucking perfect.”
He pushes past us, heading for his truck. He’s leaving. Again.
I watch him go. But I can’t look at Billy. I can’t look at Sedona.
I turn on my heel.
“Where are you going?” Tex asks.
“To check the calves,” I say.
I walk away. I head for the north pasture, where the isolation pens are. I need to get away from this. I need to work. I need to bury my hands in something real because my emotions are a disaster I can’t clean up.
Jasper is there, sitting on a hay bale, his camera in his lap. He looks up as I approach.
“Hey, Seth,” he says. He sounds nervous. “I… I got some good shots earlier. If you want to see.”
