“How about we get some work done,” he says, glancing over his shoulder, “and I tell you more at lunch?”
I snort, grateful for the release of tension. “Who says I even want to hear what you have to say?”
“I know you, Val.” His grin comes easy, familiar. “You hate unanswered questions.”
I turn away before my face gives me up. I still feel the pull of his attention on my back.
He carries the sign over and hammers it into the dirt beside the table.
KIDS’ CRAFTS – PUMPKIN PAINTING AND MORE!
The exclamation point feels a little too optimistic.
Shaun straightens and drags his forearm across his forehead, sweat darkening the edge of his shirt. The fabric pulls tight over his back and arms, and I look away before my brain can short-circuit.
Focus. Be normal.
“Fine,” I say. “But I’m going to be annoyed with you until then.”
He laughs, low and pleased. “Progress.”
He turns to lift another table, muscles flexing as he hauls it into place.
I’ve always been an arm girl. And Shaun’s have always been a problem.
I can be annoyed and still notice things. I’m talented like that. And despite myself, a quiet thought slips in.
Maybe today isn’t a total disaster after all.
SIX
MUZZLE
DREW
The air tastes wrong.How is that possible?
It’s not the usual farm funk. Not manure or sweat or old hay. This is thicker. Sour. It clings to my tongue like something spoiled that refuses to let go.
It crawls up my nose and settles there.
“You smell that?” Cole asks. His knuckles bleach white around the steering wheel as the tractor rattles beneath us. He drives like he’s familiar with it, even if everything else about him screamsnot a farm kid.
“Unfortunately, yes.” I slide the window shut, but it barely dulls the stink. “Something died out here.” And stayed dead. And kept rotting. “Probably crawling with maggots.”
Cole swallows and keeps his eyes locked on the dirt road, avoiding the potholes and pretending I’m not talking.
To break the tension, I force a grin. “So. You’re here padding college apps. Got a dream school picked out?”
He shrugs. “Not really. I just know I want out. Somewhere new. Somewhere not... this.”
The words land harder than I expect. My chest tightens, sharp and fast.
“Ah.” I nod. “Another one destined for greatness.” I hear the edge in my voice and hate it. “Hope you find it, man. Far away from here.”
The tractor bucks and rolls to a stop near the fence line by the corn maze. The engine idles, low and uneasy. The ground looks darker here. Soaked. Like it sweats.
Cole hops down, tugging on his gloves, squinting, trying to keep the dust from watering his eyes even more. I follow, boots sinking slightly into the dirt.
