Page 25 of While the Sun Shines

There’s mud everywhere—the cuffs of his pants, his work boots, and probably already seeped into his socks. It coats the tractor, the truck, the chain he’d strung between them to tow the tractor out, and now the mower, too, where the tractor tires kicked up thick, wet splats, and even a day of slicing through tall grass hasn’t been enough to loosen any of the muck.

Drew even leaves clods on the pavement as the tractor rumbles past Caroline’s house, like remnants of this damn day scattered across the road behind him.

At least the field is mowed. And the hay is drying. He drove the tedder through the freshly cut stalks, its spindly fingers stirring swaths of hay and speeding up the evaporation process in the afternoon’s heat.

And he’s managed to stay away from the farm all day. Kept himself from trailing after Penny and Abelardo to see if his worst hunch about the two of them is true.

Get over it, he tells himself, but all he sees when he pulls into the barnyard is Abelardo’s car, sleek and shiny and clean, parked right next to Penny’s motorcycle.

Where are they? he wants to ask as he pushes into the kitchen. Though Whit and Cooper, standing shoulder to shoulder at the counter, might very well point upstairs—and what would Drew do then? Walk up there? Go into his own room with a sick, twisted stomach and pretend he isn’t listening for any noise coming through the too-thin wall? Run back outside and bury himself in work in the cheese room, like avoiding the truth will change it?

“You okay?” Cooper asks, glancing over his shoulder, hands dusted with flour up to his elbows as he works a ball of dough back and forth.

Drew shoves his boots toward the coatrack, where they leave little piles of dirt. “Just a long day on the tractor.”

“Need a massage? Best-man points?”

“No thanks. I can see what you call ‘kneading dough,’ and my spine can’t take that abuse,” Drew says. “Let me guess. It’s pizza night?”

“It’s always pizza night,” Whit says, rolling his eyes as if he isn’t helping sprinkle flour across the counter. “Those older blocks of mozzarella are okay to use, right?”

Fuck. Mozzarella. That order for Brad.

He really should head into the cheese room. Get working on the long list waiting for him.

Though it suddenly feels so damn far away, tucked in the back of the barn. Drew slips into a chair and leans over to rest his cheek against the cool wood of the table. Maybe he can just stay slumped in his chair, and Cooper’ll do him a solid and feed him like this. Set a piece of pizza on the table, and Drew can shove it into his mouth without moving.

A beer appears in front of him, frosty and dripping condensation. Above it, Abelardo grins and sits in the chair across from Drew.

“This house is really amazing. I’ve been wanting to see it for ages after everything Penny’s said, and it definitely doesn’t disappoint.”

Doesn’t keep the rain out either. Or the wind. Or even the heat from today, when the only coolness is the breeze trickling in the open windows.

“Thanks,” Drew gets out.

“Penny just showed me Whit’s room. It looks great. You’re really doing all the work yourself?”

Slowly, Drew peels himself upright. Oh hell. Finished, he’s supposed to be saying proudly, sweeping an arm toward the room and helping Whit and Cooper move their furniture down the hall. But no, that bedroom has bare gray drywall, and a plastic tarp taped over the floor, and wires hanging listlessly from their empty sockets.

And—fucking fuck. The room Whit and Cooper are in now is the one they used to use as a guest room. So it’s either the couch for Abelardo tonight or…

“You staying here?” Drew asks. Say no, say no, say no—

“Absolutely,” Abelardo says. “I swung by Penny’s parents’ last night to say hi, but now I’m all yours. Is the rooster really going to crow in the morning?”

Drew tries to get a smile on his face. “You’ll definitely hear him.”

“Sleepover,” Penny says, punching her fists in the air.

Cooper wiggles his fingers, still covered in flour. “What color are we doing my nails?”

Whit points to the flour scattering over the floor. “White, apparently.”

“Can we have a pillow fight?” Cooper asks. “Ooh, underwear party?”

“Underwear would be a huge step forward given this morning,” Penny says.

“You know what I call this?” Cooper asks. “Practice. Mani-pedis, extra people in the house—all in preparation for the big day.”