Hello, this is a rewrite of a story that I originally started writing on Wattpad at 16. I have changed a lot, but kept the parts that mattered. If you like this chapter and are interested in more, please check out my Patreon (patreon.com/NadiaBlue). Also feel free, to read the original one for free on Wattpad (username=boyxboyequalslove)
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Unique.
Being the only one of its kind.
That’s the definition I found in the dictionary when I looked it up.
Special is one of its synonyms.
My whole life I’ve tried to be different. To create a name for myself that isn’t another one of those Finch boys. To introduce myself as Asher instead of the little brother that somehow belongs to all of the other men here that aren’t even my blood.
I’ve never been my own person. I’ve never had my own identity. Never had my own room or even my own memories that aren’t attached to this place. I started blank. And no one unique is blank.
My whole identity is this place. I am the six men who treat me like a dumb kid.
And that’s not fair. That’s not who I am.
Everyone else here can remember something--they came with something. Whether it’s love or hate or dreams or nightmares.
But not me. I have no good. No bad. Nothing.
I can’t just be the seventh boy from that one group home out in the country run by that sick old lady.
I refuse to be that kind of nobody.
All of the men here are thrown away or lost or abandoned boys, but even in their pain they can claim themselves. I can’t claim any of it. All I can claim is the stupid scar on my face. But that changes soon. I’ll be eighteen tomorrow.
Documents are only sealed to boys. Not to men.
If I want to find myself, then I have to start with uncovering my past.
I open my eyes and a desperate release dances off my lips as I exhale. My fingers twitch as they thumb the cotton of the beanie I wear. The chest that holds the only possessions I own, bites at my bottom as I sit on it. I keep the secrets of my departure trapped beneath my bouncing leg. My packed bag hides in the bottom of my chest.
I’m doing it. I’m finally getting out of here.
My eyes scan the mess of a room I share with three of my adopted brothers.
Clothes and shoes and abandoned nostalgia make up the room and I can’t help but memorize it. This will be my last night here. Tomorrow. I’ll be eighteen and gone.
My hand drops to my lap and my eyes go out the window to the sprawling farm land I had grown up on. No, not grown up on. A seven year old has many years behind them--stories and a past. I hadn’t grown up here entirely, but it’s been my life since I was seven years old.
My eyes trace the crops in the field and the barn out back.
I can smell the fresh air through the closed window. The leather of a saddle is etched into my hand.
I don’t hate this. I’m not running away from this, but there’s more out there. Things I’ve seen on tv and whispers from people who have actually seen the world. I’ve never even seen the ocean so how can I possibly be satisfied with just this.
I won’t be like the dead end men here who are tangled in the mess of each other. I’m going to get out.
“Have you decided what you want for your birthday?” A voice tailored to walk on eggshells rings in my ear and I turn to see the sixth boy of the Finch farm.
Oscar Ross. He’s only a year older than me. A boy that had been thrown-away.
He smiles at me without showing his teeth and even with his upturned lips I can see the stains of depression that usually left his plump lips in a slight downturn at all times. His long sleeves stretch loyally to his fingertips where he pulls at them nervously. His hair is the color of Earth, dark brown and rich. It falls to his shoulders in velvety wisps and the dyed blonde tips of his hair curl slightly. He usually straightened it, hating the loose waves, but I thought the way an occasional oak brown twist would fall across his sharp cheekbone drew out the bronze flecks in his hazel eyes.
He keeps his past hidden, but it’s obvious to tell the turmoil that still clings to him after all these years. It’s what makes him unique.
I smile at him, my fingers automatically going to the scar across my eye. My hand has a mind of its own as it attempts to hide it. I force myself to stop bringing attention to the gash and I shove my hand into my pockets. This is why I hate hats. I have no subtle way of hiding the disfigurement.
“Anything as long as it’s not another book from Adair.” I finally respond and I pull my hands from my pocket to reach out to stop the nervous twitch of Oscar’s fingers. Another instinctual habit that my hands do on their own.
Oscar’s fingers are warm as I intertwine them and he freezes as my hands interlock with his. Those everchanging hazel eyes go wide as a pink blush sprawls across his cheeks. I ignore the reaction. I know--without words how Oscar feels and what my adoptive brothers do with each other in their free time.
Oscar laughs lightly. A shallow wisp of a sound and his eyes go to my hat. He furrows his brows in confusion. A silent question forming in the crinkle of his forehead, but he’s too nice to ask why I’m suddenly wearing a piece of clothing I firmly believe should be outlawed. Even though he is my Ozzie, the only man in this house I feel responsible for protecting, I’m not ready for anyone to see my new dyed hair yet. Plus, it’d spark too many questions. I didn’t need suspicion. They might find my packed bag in my chest.
“What’s wrong with receiving a novel as a gift you anserine half-wit? If you want to stay a nescient little boy then give them all back to me.” A flat voice pierces through the small room and I know who it is without having to peer around Oscar.
Adair Brim. The fourth or fifth addition to the Finch farm. He was fostered and then adopted at the same time as Rueben. Only two years older than me. His past ended with abandonment.
Unlike Oscar, Adair didn’t have much of a choice in keeping his past a secret. Reuben had been brought in around the same time as him and cannot keep secrets or his mouth shut if his life depended on it. They were both eight when their lives intertwined. They went to a school in a city ravaged by gang violence. Adair’s father shot without warning, killing Rue’s only parent and sending him into the foster system. Adair’s father was sent to prison, leaving his son to an unstable mother who left him the first chance she got. Reuben called it fate that they both ended up at the Finch Farm, but Adair called it irony.
I roll my eyes as the tall man strides into the room. He’s so sensitive. An open book is stuck between his fingers. A smirk pulls at my lips as he glares at me. He’s the easiest of the men in this house to rile up.
“I don’t understand half of the words you just said, but I feel like you just called me dumb. Don’t make me make you lose your place in that stupid book.” I threaten, my smirk growing into a grin as irritation settles on the dark haired man’s face. He stands a couple inches taller than me and Oscar with haired dyed the color of shadows. I think his natural hair color is a sandy blonde, but I can’t remember ever seeing him not dye it. Adair has been aware of his looks since he learned to read. His jaw is sharp and it’s obvious he knows how sexy it is by the way he keeps his hair cut. The long bang on the right side of his face just misses his dark brown eyes and instead falls against his strong jaw. Everything about him made you feel inferior in a sexy submissive kind of way. His pale skin and overall mysterious persona always draws you towards him even when he’s being an asshole.
Adair holds his book tighter at my words and I bite back a laugh at his protectiveness of the thing. The man is always reading, and when he isn’t, he is doing something else stupid, like math. He’s both the smartest and stupidest person I know. He graduated highschool at 16, but is stuck here caught in the web of the stupid love affair of the men in the house. He still hasn’t left this small farm. He hides in those books instead of exploring the world.
So, yeah he can call me stupid, but by tomorrow I’ll be smarter than him.
“Do you want a gold star for figuring that out?” Adair questions his eyes flickering from my face to the beanie on my head. He tilts his head to the side as his eyebrows furrow, morphing the dark image of the man before me into someone cute. “Why are you wearing a hat? You hate hats.” Adair murmurs suspiciously, his eyes jumping back down to meet mines.
I straighten at his words. My eyes cut to Augustus’ half open trunk. I can almost hear it screaming about my transgressions. I had borrowed the hair dye from Augustus’ trunk.
I drop Oscar’s hands to pull my beanie tighter on my head.
“What are you talking about? I love hats.” I say, forcing out a laugh. It comes out too loud and bends awkwardly at the ends as I extend it too long. Oscar’s soft smile turns into frown and Adair takes a step closer to me.
I grimace as suspicion creeps into the room and I try to keep my eyes off of my chest.
“So, you suddenly don’t think hats draw attention to your scar?” Adair asks pointedly. His eyes hover over the gash that cuts through my left eyebrow and eye.The scar seems to ache at the attention and it takes up too much space, stopping just as it reaches my cheek. I press my hand over my eye to hide it. The action leaves me half blind and I shoo Adair away as I squint at him through my good eye. “Exactly.” I mumble to Adair as I head for the door. The last person I want questioning me is the smartest person I know. I’ll have to avoid the idiot until tomorrow.
I head out the room and down the wooden stairs, checking over my shoulder to see if Adair is following. He stands at the entrance of my shared bedroom, his eyes squinted as he stares at me. I hurry my steps, jumping down the last stair and turning right. The sound of laughter draws me towards Grandma’s room and I quickly open the door shutting it behind me.
The tv plays an old soap opera on low volume and a bed with rails sits taking up most of the room. Hunter and Calloway, the two oldest, stand on either side of Grandma’s bed.
Their eyes flicker to me at the same time.
Callie is five years older than me. The second to be taken in by Grandma. His past revolved around being lost.
I hadn’t talked about it with him much, but from what I had picked up over the years he never had a home or family. He’d been in the system since birth, bouncing from foster home to foster home until Grandma got him at five. Despite being young he says he remembers how cruel people could be to a kid with no attachments…because it meant no consequences.
Hunter is six years older. The eldest of us all and the first one to be adopted by Grandma. I don’t know his past. If he’d been thrown-away, lost, or abandoned.
He didn’t talk about it.
I step away from the door and I’m forcibly reminded of Calloway and Hunter’s height. They’ve both towered over me ever since I was a kid.
Calloway is lean, with long eyelashes and pouty lips. When he gives his signature sweet smile, it can make anyone develop a sweet tooth, especially when his baby blue eyes sparkle. His light eyes are usually trapped behind the mess of ash black curls that flops adorably in his face. The only masculine features on Calloway’s face is his sharp jaw and high cheekbones, but the softness of his other features make him the image of a pretty boy.
On the other hand, Hunter is not pretty. Rather, he’s astonishingly ruggedly handsome.
His body ripples with muscles. From his broad back to his six pack. Not that I look. His skin is tanned and keeps its sun-kissed complexion even in winter. He has deep brown hair that falls to his shoulders in loose curls and waves. Today, dark hair lines his chin, telling me hadn’t shaved. His amber eyes drink me in as an alluring smile tugs at his plump lips, showcasing his deep dimples.
The first time I had met him, was the day they drove me all the way out here from the city hospital. It isn’t a fun day to look back on. My head constantly felt like it was going to split in half from a headache and I was bombarded with all of these new people. But, Hunter had tucked me in that first night and asked me some silly question about if I’d be okay eating cake for breakfast tomorrow and when I started talking he poked my dimples and told me he found them so cute he wanted some for himself. He then smiled and dimples appeared on his cheeks. Not that I can ever remember having a crush before that day, but I was convinced Hunter was the most handsome man in the whole world.
“What’s with the hat, Ash?” Callie asks, pausing in his task of combing Grandma’s hair to give me a wicked smile that darkens his cute features in a sexy way.
“Ash, is wearing a hat?” Grandma calls out weakly. I can’t see her face from her position in the bed, but she lifts up one of her wrinkled arms as she talks.
“Mhmm.” Hunter hums, his amber eyes pinning me to the spot as he lifts one of Grandma’s legs, moving it up and down. It’s a familiar exercise I’ve seen him do thousands of times. He does it at least five times a day since she can't walk anymore.
Grandma got sick a few months after I arrived at the Finch farm. She stopped walking a year later. Even though she was supposed to raise me, whenever I think of the person who took care of me, I think of Hunter…or maybe Calloway.
“What a peculiar thing for him to do.” Grandma’s dry voice cackles and she waves her hand once again. I push away from the door and the older men’s eyes send fireworks lighting in my stomach as their gaze follows my every movement. I try to keep them from shooting from my body and making a spectacle in the room by acting like I don’t notice their stare. I coolly stop by Calloway and lean over the handrails on Grandma’s bed to greet her.
Grandma’s weathered face and toothy smile comes into view and she blinks up at me with her watery eyes. She’s blind at this point, but she says my name and nods like she can see me clearly.
“Hats look great on you my little, I’ve always told you that.” She wheezes, giving me a gummy smile.
“She’s right, Asher. You do look great in hats.” Hunter’s deep voice rumbles, stealing the air from the room. My face heats and I can feel his brown eyes on me. I avoid looking at him by smoothing the pillow under Grandma’s head.
“Yes, so handsome.” Callie sings, his whimsical voice oddly matching the deep thunder of Hunter’s voice like lightning. The blue eyed boy pinches at my waist, making my face turn hotter as his hand slips under my shirt grazing my stomach. I swat his hand away, giving him a pointed look.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“No need to lie guys.” I grumble, trying to cool my face.
“No, seriously. I like being able to see your eyes.” Calloway hums, dropping the hairbrush in his hand to grab my chin. He pulls my face close to his, his pouty lips only inches from mine as he stares deeply into my eyes.
He better not try and kiss me again.
“You have pretty grey eyes.” Calloway murmurs lowly and I feel like the sun resides under my cheeks. His eyes drop down to my lips and I can’t take it anymore.
“Callie!” I protest, trying to pull at his hand, but his grip is strong and he only laughs at me. His pretty features scrunch up making him look cute despite his devious undertones. He tilts his head to the side moving closer to me.
My neck now burns and I can feel it moving lower and lower on my body.
“Callie!” I object, trying to wrench my face away from the man as he moves closer.
“Callie.” Hunter calls out warningly and Calloway’s blue eyes flicker away from mine to look over my shoulder. He pouts his lip and raises his eyebrows, his face innocent.
“What?” He questions, confusion lacing his voice. “Don’t you like being able to look in his eyes?” He asks, twisting my face towards Hunter. My eyes are forced to meet with the older man’s amber gaze. Hunter states at me silently, a small smirk pulling at his full lips as he gives a small nod. Hunter’s eyes flicker back to Calloway. “Okay, then what’s the problem?” Callie asks and I feel him press in behind me, sending space diving away from us as he pulls my body against his hard chest.
My heart hammers in my chest as his close proximity and the warm smelling cologne he wears floods my senses before banishing my right mind entirely. I’m momentarily lost in the feeling of his fingers sliding away from my chin and down my body. He grips my hips. I don’t push him away.
“Calloway.” Hunter says pointedly, his voice remains at the same volume, but takes on a level of authority. The older man’s brown eyes drop to the old woman in the bed who smiles up at the ceiling, her eyes unable to focus on us. Calloway steps away on command and space and air and common sense return to me.
I turn back to glare at Calloway who holds his hands up in surrender. He likes to teeter on the edge like this. Tease me or push me. He’s not shy about his desire for me to join like Oscar is.
It’d be better if he were.
Callie’s eyes flicker to Hunter as a devilish smile dances on his lips.
“Oh, don’t fuss at baby blue Hunter. He’s only giving Ash some well deserved confidence.” Grandma calls out hoarsely from bed, using the nickname she had given Calloway because of his soft blue eyes. Hunter sighs. My eyes go back to him to see him biting back a smile as he continues to stare at Callie.
“I know Granny. I’m sorry.” He apologizes and Callie snickers behind me.
“No need to apologize. I know you’re a papa bear, dear. Is dinner almost ready though? I’m starving.” She asks, turning her head in Hunter’s direction.
“Yes, I made your favorite.” Hunter says softly moving up the bed to lean down close to Grandma’s face. He smiles sweetly at her. His intimidating presence washes away as he gazes at her. “Beef pot roast.” Hunter says after a breath and Grandma squeals in delight. “Asher, could you go and get Augustus and Rue, they’re out stacking hay.” Hunter says looking up at me. I nod once, nerves lighting my fingers as I adjust my beanie on my head. The last person I need interested in the hat on my head is the man who will kill me when he finds out what’s underneath.
I step away from the bed and send Calloway another glare in which he gives me a confused look before I slide out of the room.
I make my way towards the front of the house, passing by the kitchen where the smell of the pot roast sticks to the air. It’s a familiar smell. We took turns cooking and we often prepared Grandma’s favorites.
I head out the front door. Large fields tilled with crops span out into a line of trees. A barn sits out a good walk from the house, next to a stable. The Finch farm was only about 150 acres. We mainly sold crops during the warm weather, but we had a few chickens, horses and cows. We mainly used the milk and eggs from the cows and chickens, but we occasionally sold Grandma’s special chocolate milk recipes when we went into town during cold weather. Town was about a forty-five minute drive out and at one time had been small and filled with rural folks. It has recently been forced into development by a hungry business woman who has been buying up “mom and pop” shops and replacing them with franchises. The crazy woman, Mandy, had been trying to expand out here in the country. She wanted to put this place on the map with hotels and getaway spa retreats. She’d been asking Grandma to sell her the place for the last five years. Grandma had refused. She grew up on this farm and dedicated it to raising the thrown-away, abandoned or lost boys of the world. She said one day when she passed it’d be ours. Well, theirs. I have no intention of staying in this small town and as much as I hated Mandy, she’s the reason we now have more bus routes that head to the city. I’ll buy my ticket tomorrow from the new station she built.
I begin my walk towards the barn, the greetings of an overly excited fall tries to make a home in the short sleeves of my shirt. I shiver, regretting that I didn’t bring a jacket.
I pull open the barn door, trying to ignore the fact that the paint is beginning to chip. If Hunter saw this he’d make one us repaint before winter hit. It’d suck with less hands…but I can’t blame myself. They’ll have to split all of the farmwork up differently now.
The horses we own neigh as I enter. Shelby and Pebble. The stacks of hay are piled high near the back of the barn and I immediately groan as I see two men pressed against the yellow straw.
Rueben’s auburn hair burns against the pale of the hay as Augustus pushes him against the stack. Their kisses are fierce as they devour each other. Augustus’ lips drop to Rue’s neck and the red haired man begins working at Augustus’ pants.
I can’t help the way my eyes watch the movements. The way Augustus grinds against the younger man and the way Rue tilts his head back to allow the other man better access. I find a heat begin to grow in the bottom of my stomach and a tightness restricts my pants. It gets harder and harder everyday. Just like earlier with Callie, I know I need to pull my eyes away. I know I need to remind myself that their love is a sticky trap. A spider’s web luring them all to demise. The life of nobodies. But, it’s hard as I stand in front of them. I adjust my pants to alleviate the tightness.
Rue gives a throaty moan and his eyes slide open still heavy with lust. A dark blue gaze latches onto mine. His stare makes me freeze like a deer caught in headlights and my cheeks heat at being caught. My mind fumbles for a lie or a distraction. I pick up the nearest thing to me, a bell we usually kept in the hen house to signal mealtime to the chickens. I don’t think as I launch it at Augustus’ back. It hits him and he hisses, jumping away from Rueben.
My eyes widen as I realize I had just thrown something at Augustus. He’s the worst and takes any opportunity he could to be a dick. And being hit with a bell is a prime opportunity.
The older man spins towards me. A pale blonde almost white color now shades his loose windblown curls and frames his green eyes. A lip ring occupies his now kiss swollen plump bottom lip. His lean form hides the muscles that ripple beneath his skin, but I’m too experienced to know that I’d rather be hit by a truck than Augustus. His model-like looks are almost hidden in the poor lightning of the barn and his jeans are unbuttoned revealing the black of his underwear.
I look away immediately.
Augustus is the third oldest. Four years older than me, like Hunter I did not know his past. Abandoned or lost or thrown-away. It’s a mystery, but the anger that always flickers in his green eyes warns me never to ask about it.
Not that I even care about the asshole of a man.
“Did you just throw that at me?” Augustus growls, his gaze hardening.
“I-uh--no. It slipped.” I stutter, shrugging my shoulders and trying to nonchalantly lean against the barn door.
Rue bursts out laughing at my words as he picks up the bell that now lay at their feet.
“Ash, we’re on the other side of the barn. You literally had to launch this thing to hit him.” Rue says, biting back laughter. “You’re the worst liar.” Reuben’s eyes fill with humor as his eyes jump between Augustus and I. The freckles that dust his nose and cheeks are washed out in the darkness of the barn, but the sharpness of his handsome features cuts through the shadows. His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips and his free hand subconsciously runs over the bulge that presses at his jeans.
I avoid looking lower than his chin.
“I’m not lying. It fucking slipped.” I say, doubling down on my lie as I fold my arms.
“Give me that.” Augustus says simply, his angry gaze sliding away from me to go to Rueben who lightly taps the bell against his hip causing it to clink.
“NO!” I yell jumping forward and raising my hand. “Do not give that to him.” He’s definitely going to try and kill me with that bell.
“Rue. Give it to me.” Augustus says slowly his words harsh as he holds his hand out.
Reuben’s smile grows as his eyes dance between Augustus and I. He takes a step back from the white haired man, hiding the bell behind his back as he continues to retreat.
“Who should I give this to?” He ponders with a smirk. His tongue darts out again, washing over his plump lips. “Who do I like more?” He teases, stopping so that he now stands between Augustus and I.
“Rueben give me the fucking bell.” Augustus warns taking a daunting step towards the auburn haired man. Reuben takes a step back on instinct.
“You like me more Rue. Remember um-um yesterday when I let you have the last of the sweet tea?” I ask, still holding my hands up. My eyes dart between Augustus and Rue. I should have just taken the embarrassment of being caught. Now, I’ll die before I turn eighteen.
“Ooooh, you did do that. Point for Ash. What nice thing have you done for me, Augustus?” Reuben asks, the playful tilt of his voice growing as another chuckle passes his lips.
Augustus lets out a long sigh, his head tilting back as he looks at the ceiling. His pale blonde hair falls from his face, revealing the full magnitude of his sharp profile. Anger fits his model-like features like a glove and he almost looks hot as he rolls his shoulders. He looks down at his feet, sighing once before he’s lunging forward, closing the distance between him and Rue in two large steps. Reuben tries to resist, but Augustus wraps his arms around the shorter man and yanks the bell from his hand.
“I fucked you last night, didn’t I?” Augustus replies roughly, barely sparing Rueben a glance as he turns to me.
My eyes widen as Augustus hurls the bell at me. I barely have time to duck as it goes whirling past my head. It slams into the barn door with a loud bang causing the horses to stomp loudly.
I straighten as I look back at the now bent bell.
He missed.
No.
No.
I dodged it.
A smile pulls at each corner of my lip as I turn back to Augustus. The older man curses as I snort.
“Nice try, fucker.” I spit at him, dusting off my shoulder. “You know I’m too damn athletic for you.”
“Shut up, Ashley.” Augustus retorts heatedly, his words forming around the taunting nickname I hate with venom.
I hate being called Ashley. It’s a girl's name and I’m not a girl. No matter how short I am compared to the other men in this house. I’m still a man.
I can’t stop the anger that flares beneath my skin and I glare at him
“You shut up, Augie.” I snap back and Augustus raises a dark brow at me. My words sail across the barn before I can even process my threat. Augustus hates being called Augie. Only three people in the world are allowed to call him that. Calloway, Hunter, or Grandma and I am none of those people. My blood freezes, extinguishing my anger as Augustus pops his jaw, a dark look falling over his face.
I take a step back, but Augustus is already running towards me at full speed. I give up on scrambling backward, knowing I’ll never make it to the barn door before he reaches me and instead brace myself to take the beating as a man. Augustus aggressively wraps an arm around my neck, holding me in a headlock as he forces me to look down at his shoes.
“What the fuck did you call me?” Augustus questions tightening his grip.
“I didn’t say anything. You’re hearing things.” I yell, pulling at his arms. His muscles flex underneath my hands. He tightens his grip and fear floods me as I realize he could yank my hat off at any minute. He’d break my neck at this point if he saw my dyed hair.
“Oh am I?” Augustus questions sarcastically.
“No, you’re not. I heard him.” Rue pipes up and I make a sound of protest. He’s not helping. “I think he called you Augie…Augie.” Reuben says and the pressure around my neck falls away. I look up to see Rueben restraining Augustus' arms. The freckled man begins to turn red with struggle as he tries to keep Augustus' arms pinned behind his back. “He can’t kill us both. Let’s see who’s the fastest.” Rueben’s eyes flicker up to meet mine and my eyebrows furrow at his words.
“What?” I ask, rubbing my neck.
Rueben grins at me and he shoves Augustus to the ground. My eyes widen as he sprints for the door.
I don’t waste time looking at Augustus as I turn on my heel and also dash for the door. I exit moments before Rueben and dart for the house.
Rueben runs next to me and I can hear Augustus on our heel. I jump up onto our porch and throw open the front door, tumbling into the house. I narrowly avoid Adair who walks towards the kitchen, his eyes on the hefty book in his hands.
“Watch it.” He hisses at me, but I ignore him as I fly into the kitchen. I stop inches from Oscar who carries a stack of plates. The brunette jumps at my sudden appearance, the plates in his arms wobbling. I steady him, placing my hands on top of his.
“Rue, I’m going to kick your ass. You just stepped on my foot.” Adair’s irritated voice sounds from behind me as Rueben slides into the room. Adair glares at us from the entryway. His finger still holds the place in his book.
“Hey! Language!” Calloway chides, turning away from the stove with two yellow oven mitts on. His baby blue eyes run over us, blinking past the perfect mess of black curls in his eyes. He sucks his pouty lips into his mouth, giving Adair a pointed look.
Callie hates bad words. He objects to cussing. He believes there are more eloquent ways to explain what you’re feeling beyond using profanity, so any and all cursing dropped around him.
“Your nerdy ass couldn’t beat me anyway.” Rue taunts, sticking his tongue out.
“How about just having some common decency and not running around like a hooligan? I know you spend a lot of time in a barn, but you weren’t raised in one.” Adair retorts, anger flaring in his words as he glares at the red-haired man.
“Why are you guys running in the house anyways?” Hunter’s drawl of a voice bends from around the corner, cutting Rueben off before he can respond. I let go of Oscar.
Perfect. Hunter won’t let Augustus hit me.
“Augustus is trying to murder us!” I scream, pushing past Adair who slaps at me as I pass. It hits my shoulder, but I ignore the swat as my eyes lock on Hunter. He pushes Grandma out of her room in a wheelchair just as Augustus slams into the house. Augustus’ green eyes fall on me and he chuckles darkly.
Fuck.
I dive behind Hunter, latching onto his strong arms as Augustus makes a move towards me.
“Asher, stop being a little bitch and come here.” Augustus exhales, taking another step towards me.
“Woah woah! Language, Grandma is right there.” Calloway fuses, coming to stand behind Adair. He leans down resting his head on the shoulder of the irritated looking younger man who has completely closed his novel at this point.
“Ohhh I’ve heard worse words than that. I've lived too long to be faint of heart.” Grandma calls out roughly.
“I know Granny, but still.” Calloway says and he gives Augustus a pointed look. The angry man mutters an apology as a he takes a menacing step towards me. He cracks his knuckles and I press into Hunter’s side. The older man turns to me, a soft smile tugging at his full lips as his eyes drop down to my hands that are wrapped around his bicep. His amber eyes flicker up to mine, distracting me from the life or death situation as my heart flutters. Hunter drags his tongue along his bottom lip before he’s turning back to Augustus who has closed too much distance between us at this point.
“Hurt him and I’ll hurt you.” Hunter says, his deep voice commanding the room and making Augustus freeze in his tracks. Augustus’ eyes flicker from me to the older man.
An unrecognizable emotion flashes across Augustus’ face. It disappears before I have a chance to read it and he’s soon scowling again.
“Fine.” He mutters, narrowing his eyes at me. He takes a step back.
“That includes me too, right.” Reuben calls out, his head popping from around the doorway. His fiery curls slide across his forehead as he peaks around Adair and Calloway.
“Yes, that includes you too, Rue.” Hunter affirms with a soft smile and Calloway giggles, throwing his arms around the freckled boy.
“Fine.” Augustus grumbles again.
Hunter chuckles as he pushes Grandma into the kitchen. I let go of his arm, sticking my tongue out at Augustus who glares at me.
“What’s with the stupid hat anyways? You don’t wear hats.” He comments and I flip him off.
“None of your business, asshat.” I respond with a smug smile. For the next hour I had total freedom to give back the dickish energy Augustus always gives to me. Karma’s a bitch.
Augustus narrows his eyes at me as I stride into the kitchen.
Oscar has set out the plates and the pot roast now sits in the middle of the table. Everyone takes their seat at the round table. We used to have a long rectangular one, but Oscar had wanted it this way so that we would all always be next to each other and no one would feel left out. We had gotten it after his first episode. He’s has had many since. Hunter and Calloway couldn’t drive at the time, but they still drove us all into town in the pickup truck and we picked up a second hand table. I think they were just glad that he finally wanted something again, instead of staring blankly at the wall all day. I was happy too.
We take our unassigned assigned seats we had chosen all those years ago. Grandma starts the table off, followed by Hunter to her left. Adair is next to him and then it’s me. Oscar is on my other side and Calloway is next to him. Reuben sits on the other side of Calloway and it ends with Augustus who sits next to Grandma.
I brandish my shield of safety proudly as I flip Augustus off. The rude man only rolls his eyes as I slide in between Oscar and Adair. The dark haired man to my right doesn’t look up as I take my seat, his attention too wrapped up in his book.
“No books at the table.” Calloway hums and he plucks the book pressed to Adair’s face from his hands. Adair grumbles under his breath, but doesn’t protest anymore as he rolls his eyes at his plate.
“Dinner is served.” Calloway says joyfully, clapping his hands. He takes his seat at the table between Oscar and Rueben.
As I wait for my turn to fill my plate, my eyes drift from the dinner table to the window above the sink. The sun begins to grow drowsy outside, spreading shadows onto the farm.
Despite the delicious smell of dinner, it’s a familiar food I know the taste of without eating. It’s the third time we’ve eaten it this month and I can’t help but wonder what possibilities taste like.
Only tomorrow will tell.
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