We make the drive to the farm in Orton Creek in just under three hours. One thing I love about hanging out with Conrad is the comfortable silence. He’s a man of few words, and he doesn’t feel the need to fill every bout of silence with meaningless small talk. The owners of the farm are ready for us as we arrive, helping us load the two baby bison into the trailer. They’re itty-bitty and actually kind of cute. I’ve only ever seen a few of these animals in person close up before, and this place has tons of them. The sun’s shining brightly in the sky by now, so the roads aren’t as rough as they were on our way here. With the bison loaded up, we head for home again.
“Do you have names for them?” I ask Conrad.
“Bogart and Biscuit,” he grunts out without any thought, like he’s had these names picked out for weeks now.
I cough and clear my throat to hide the laugh that wants to bubble up. “Bogart and Biscuit,” I repeat. “Where the hell did you come up with those names?”
He shrugs, one hand gripping the top of the steering wheel while his other arm rests in his lap. Conrad is a big man. I’m six-foot-three, and he’s got at least a couple of inches on me, and he’s built like a fucking wall. “I don’t know. Just liked the way they sounded.”
“Can they hang with the bulls?”
“Yeah, they can eventually. Probably not when they’re this little.” The conversation drifts after that for a while, but then I see him glance over at me briefly before he asks, “What’s the deal with you and Jade?”
I’m surprised Conrad’s even asking me about this. It’s not like him. Not that I mind. I feel comfortable enough with him to share this type of stuff. “We’re, uh, getting a divorce.”
“How’re you feeling about that?”
If anybody out of our group would understand what I’m going through, it’s Conrad. A few years back, he and Whit went through a divorce. It took the entire town by surprise because they had been together for so long. Conrad doesn’t talk much about the divorce, and neither does Whit, but it seemed hard on both of them, and for a while, I really thought they’d work it out and get back together. That is, until last year, when Whit started dating somebody else.
“I’m alright,” I tell him. “It’s for the best, but it still sucks to have to go through it.”
“When does she come home?”
“In a few days.”
I’m torn about whether Jade being back will make things at the house better or even more tense. Truthfully, I can’t see thembeing any more uncomfortable than they already are. It’s been a week sincethe incident, as I’m calling it in my head. I don’t even know how to move on from that. Or process it. My hands get clammy and it’s like my fight-or-flight activates whenever I think about it.
Both Grady and I have done an excellent job of avoiding each other as much as possible this past week. Or if we are in the same room together, we’re never alone. Suzy has somehow become an unknowing neutral ground between us. Which is ludicrous. It’s like we both think if we’re in a room without someone else there, it’ll suddenly happen again, and we won’t be able to stop it.
At least, that’s how I feel. I can’t speak for Grady.
My mind is a fucking mess, and I don’t know how to fix it or stop these thoughts. The entire situation is wrong. So fucking wrong. For a multitude of reasons.
The one fucking me up the most, though… Grady is aman.There is no denying he’s a man. And while I may have been with Jade for over a decade and my experience with anybody but her is extremely minimal, one thing has always been for certain: I likewomen. I’m not gay. I’ve never questioned if maybe I was bisexual. I’ve never been turned on by a man. Never. But for some reason, Grady’s eyes on me turned me on something fierce. Something that made me come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.
Fuck.
And as if theincidentwasn’t bad enough, but what I saw the very next night has been weighing heavy on my mind too. I can’t make sense of why he would have pictures of me that he had taken. Beautiful, professional-level pictures. I try to think of what was going through his mind when he pulled out his camera and starting shooting. Was it an innocent thing, where he realized it would be a good shot so he took it? Or was it deeper than that? After the incident, I can’t be so sure.
My phone goes off, and when I turn it over, I see it’s a text from the last person I want to talk to.
Grady: Hey, no rush at all, but I was wondering if you knew when you may be home? Hannah just called and asked if I could pop into Powder Ridge later. It’s okay if I can’t, just asking.
Me: We’re on our way back. I’ll help him unload the bison, and then I can head home. So, probably a couple of hours at most.
Grady: HE GOT BISON?? Are you serious?
I can picture Grady’s wide eyes as if he’s asking me that in person.
Me: Yup. Two little ones.
Grady: Holy shit, that’s so cool. Can I come see them sometime?
Me: Fuck if I know. Ask Conrad. They’re his bison, not mine.
This is the most we’ve talked all week, aside from chatter with Suzy. Granted, it’s over text so it’s a lot easier, but it’s still so fucking awkward. I feel like I’m never going to be able to look at Grady the same way again. Or myself. And I don’t even want to imagine all the horrific things running through his head. He probably thinks I’m a pervert.
Although, he was the one snooping in my doorway in the middle of the night. If anyone looks like a pervert here, it’s him. Not that I think that.
