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“Thought you were going to take me back to the barn,” he says.
“Nope. Just to this tree over here.”
I walk toward him and my hand slips around his once more. We walk side by side until we reach a large spiraling tree, the worn branches reaching up to the sky, a single bench underneath it. A plaque sits on the side and Braxton reads it in the fading evening light.
“Edith was Earl’s wife. He built this bench and put it right here for her after she died. They were married for forty years.”
“This is depressing as shit, Jimbob,” Braxton says, looking up at me.
“Really? I think it’s romantic.”
He doesn’t look convinced, so I just lead him to the bench and sit down on it, patting the seat right next to me.
“I don’t do romantic,” he grumbles, even though he sits, his leg hitting mine in the process.
“I mean, it takes some getting used to, but I think you’ll like it after a while.”
I wrap my arm around his shoulders, and he peers over at me, looking a bit grumpy at me holding him, but leaning in all the same. His head rests on me, and I squeeze him softly.
“So, when did crazy Earl start making moonshine? Was it after his wife died?” Braxton asks.
“Nah, he started it with her. Kept doing it to keep her memory alive.”
“Guess that is romantic.”
“It is. True love is what that is.”
We sit in silence for a bit, and then I say, “If you’re around in the summer, I’d love to take you here when the lightning bugs come out.”
“Yeah, that would be cool, I guess.”
But the way he peers up at me and our eyes meet, I know he likes the idea a whole hell of a lot.
Our lips meet in a soft kiss and we pull away moments later, breathless.
“So, are we just gonna sit here in the dark?” Braxton asks, and I let out a small laugh.
“Nah, I have something else planned. It’s right over here. Come on,” I stand up and hold out my hand, and he takes it, making me feel like the king of Kansas.
“Where are you taking me? To see the largest ear of corn? The largest ball of twine?”
“Shut up, you,” I say with a laugh. “It’s not silly. It’s real cool. Just you wait.”
nine
. . .
braxton
“You wantme to lie down here?” I glance at Jimbob with a frown. We’re in the middle of a cornfield and he’s lying down on the dirt, his eyes on mine.
“Yeah, come on. I promise it’s cool.”
I lower myself down next to him, our bodies sprawled against each other. My arm rubs against his, and he turns to look at me.
“You should be looking up,” he whispers, and I do as he says.
And as soon as my eyes hit the dark sky, I lose the ability to breathe.
