Chapter Text
Was it selfish to thank his past self for almost attempting suicide on a Friday night? Nah. At least he had all weekend to mope and feel miserable for himself.
Marnie was suspiciously quiet on the ride back to the ranch. She sniffled from time to time but otherwise kept her silence. It was almost worse than when she yelled at him. Silent treatment was an understandable punishment...
He vaguely remembered leather under his cheek and palms firmly gripping the back of his knees. "Hang on, it’s gonna be alright," Someone said as wet raven hair slapped him on the face with each sway of the wind.
Marnie said the farmer had carried him to the hospital. It sounded disgustingly close to some of Elliott's poetic shit about anchors and stormy nights.
Shane just wanted to wither up and die from embarrassment. He didn't remember much of what went down, but he must've made a fool of himself. He was familiar with the aftertaste of bile lingering in his mouth and could only pray to a god he didn't believe in that he hadn't thrown up on the woman.
When they reached the ranch, Marnie shut off the engine, but stayed in her seat with a sigh.
The silence was stifling. Shane didn't want to make a wrong move, so they stayed in Marnie's truck, listening to the animals in the barn, in awkward silence. Ugh…
"I..." Marnie starts, but stops, chewing her lip. "We have to talk." She settled on.
He groaned and pushed his hurting head against the cool window. For fucks sake. He was too old for this shit.
"Marnie, for the-"
She held up her hand, "Not now. I- I think we just..." She sighed defeatedly and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. "I don't know what you need, and I can't give it to you," She admitted, her voice suspiciously wavering and choked up, "Can you- just consider... talking to Harvey's counselor friend?"
Shame huffed, not meeting her eyes, his answer was obvious, "No."
He exited the car, opening the front door without looking back.
He almost fell backwards as something small and fast barrelled into his knees, "Oof!"
"How was your sleepover, Uncle Shane?!" Yelled the big-eyed little girl, hugging his legs.
"Huh?"
Oh. He remembered the farmer in his room, telling him something about Jas...
"Did you get sugar?"
He smacked his palm against his forehead, "Ah, fuck!"
Jas giggled, "Language, Uncle Shane!"
He sighed, feeling more defeated by the second, he couldn't do this today... Couldn't look Jas in the eye knowing what he was about to do to the poor kid... Foster care... another dead parent...
He felt like throwing up even more of his nonexistent stomach contents...
"I'm so sorry, kiddo..." He mumbled, knowing it wasn't ever enough.
"It's okay! I hope you had fun at Mary's!" She grinned brightly and thankfully got distracted by Marnie entering the house behind Shane, "Aunt Marnie! Can we go shopping pleeeease? It's an emergency!"
Shane vaguely heard Jas's whining about the importance of sugar and baked cookies as he escaped into his room, locking the door behind him.
He felt like a ghost, creeping around and vanishing into a corner of the house, hidden away.
"Fuck..." No word he ever heard could express his feelings at the moment...
Guilt, self-deprecation, shame, anger, sadness, despair...
A lot of negative thoughts were swirling around his mind like an angry beehive. You're a failure. Fucking pathetic piece of shit. You wanted to selfishly just leave Jas alone to the wolves?! What would Henry and Lily say if they knew they entrusted their little daughter to a total failure who wanted to off himself like a dumb dipshit because he was drunk off his ass?
He wanted to die, yes, but he CAN'T abandon his responsibilities.
He stared at the ceiling as he plopped down on his bed, feeling more miserable than usual. Harvey knew something about his pathetic attempt to drink himself stupid to the brim... That meant Maru would know, she'd tell her mom. Fuck. Who else? Possibly their nosy shopkeeper Pierre and his gossiping wife, too.
Shane hid his face in his elbow; odds were, everyone already knew.
If not the whole story of his pathetic suicide attempt, then at least Farmer's heroic shit, carrying him to Harvey's in the rain.
Speaking of which, he cringed with more self-hatred.
If he ever even dared to think about the farmer in any romantic possibility, that was one hundred percent out the window now... If she hadn't arrived, he would have jumped. That much he knows.
Curiously, when he thought of the haze that his memories were of what went down at the cliffs, he felt a tiny place in his mind whispering mushy things, but thankfully, it was ignored by the much louder venomous voice terrorizing him.
Fuck he has to... Apologize or something.
They were friends, she had said so... friends... Yeah.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be too awkward.
Hopefully, he could still talk to her sometimes.
Hopefully, he would still be invited to her wedding with Emily...
He cringed and turned on his side. He was miserable, but it wasn't other people's problem. And he wouldn't do something that stupid ever again... He can't leave Jas, and that's all the reason he needs to keep living for a few more years. No matter how torturous each day feels.
~~~~
He slept through Saturday, but kept startling awake multiple times. He didn’t need his stupid brain to make up shit nightmares… just his memories were enough.
He was startled awake yet again, feeling disoriented and vaguely sick as he stared at the cracks in the ceiling. He was pretty sure he had wasted one of his off days entirely in bed.
Shane groaned, getting up from his sweat-soaked sheets, he poked his head out the door, the clock over Marnie’s kitchen showed 5:30, but the afternoon light was nowhere to be seen.
Huh, he really did waste an entire day asleep… Fuck, he was hungry.
He crept through the hall to hide in the bathroom, wincing as he turned the light on. His head pounded behind his eyes with the remnants of his hangover. Fuck. Why had it not gone away yet?
Shane avoided the mirror regularly as a principal, but today he wanted to punish himself.
He winced at the mess staring back at him. Dark bruises complemented his puffy red eyes, and his stubble was grosser than he remembered. His hair was matted to his scalp with grease and Friday's dried mud and rain water, fuck he hadn’t even changed his shirt.
Embarrassingly, he wanted to cry.
“You’re a goddamn grown up.” He muttered as he looked away from the mirror and stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile on the dirty bathroom floor. He would need the Joja jacket again…
It was still dark outside, and Marnie and Jas wouldn’t wake up for at least another hour.
He stepped into the shower clumsily, vaguely amused by the thought of tripping and snapping his neck in the shower like an idiot.
He groaned as hot water hit his stiff shoulders, soothing the cold in his bones.
It was easier to breathe in the fogged warm air of the bathroom; he could’ve stayed forever.
He looked down and gripped his hips, jiggling the fat. He remembered the days when he used to have a toned stomach. If only his younger self knew to appreciate that bod more.
No use now. He grabbed the body wash and began scrubbing.
He should visit the farmer, thank her, and maybe threaten her not to tell a soul about what happened at the cliffs.
He sighed and rested his head on the cool tiles. If he closed his eyes, he could still imagine the sensation of wet leather under his cheek and strong shoulders. He vividly remembered strong palms holding up the back of his knees in a bruising grip, pressing him to a broad back.
He leaned down to check, and his suspicions were correct; there was a faint outline of a palm where the back of the thighs met the back of his calf.
He was by no means a lightweight guy. How she had carried him to Harvey’s… only Yoba knows.
She had some serious muscles packed, maybe she wasn't joking about being able to pick him up bridal style... No! Stop.
She could bend him in half like a taco.
He wanted to punch the wall, but it would only break his hands; instead, he balled them up, his nails digging into his palm as he tried to resist the mental images his mind provided.
Unconsciously, his hands go down to his crotch. Reluctant, unsure fingers wrapped around the flesh. He didn’t dare open his eyes. Fuck...
He groaned softly, the heat of the warm water beating down on his back, melting him. He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes harder, struggling to keep the self-hatred and shame at bay.
“Please, no…” his eyes burned, but he wasn’t sure why or for what he was begging. This had nothing to do with anything. He just wanted to release excess energy after all the shit that happened. He was so filthy.
He hissed, his hand stroking himself. Just a quickie. He wanted a little bit of a release to get over his misery, just for a few minutes. Goddammit...
He kept his eyes shut, increasing the pace. He thought of someone else’s hands replacing his own, stroking him, holding him from behind. He swallowed the gathered saliva in his mouth.
They would increase the pace, leaning close and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, hungry eyes pinning him in place.
He remembered a pair of especially sharp, dark eyes… Warm hands touching him…
He breathed faster, noises forming in the back of his throat. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle any sound from escaping.
“I’ll show you how hot I can make it~” a familiar voice echoed through his haze, and he crumpled.
“Fuck!” he cursed, melting in the heat of the shower. He could imagine it, a cocky smirk directed his way as he flushed red just so. Hands that would explore him without restraint. “Hnnngh…” he groaned, his knees feeling weak under his weight.
He struggled to keep up with himself. What would she do? Play him hard and dirty or treat him with care? “Good job,” her silky voice whispered in his mind. He moaned. “You’re doing so good.” He couldn’t breathe-
Shane came with a barely stifled cry. Feeling dizzy and spent, as if his head was filled with cotton. He shivered under the stream of hot water.
He wheezed, catching his breath before he finally opened his eyes. The evidence of what he had done was already going down the drain.
Regret hit him like a tidal wave. Shame and hatred were a potent mix, one he was familiar with. He was frustrated as he rubbed shampoo into his hair too aggressively. Here he was, wanking to thoughts of the woman who had saved his sorry ass from a dumb suicide attempt.
“She belongs to someone else, asshole.” He hissed at the empty bathroom in anger. Clutching his hair painfully and hiding his tears in the shower stream.
~~~~
He escaped the house before Jas or Marnie could wake up.
Summer was in full swing, the sun had just come up, and he already felt like death had warmed over. He was already sweating and he had just showered dammit!
Not bothering with breakfast, he trudged the path up towards the farm. He hadn't eaten anything in two days, but oh well. It is what it is...
It was far more cleared out since the last time he visited. He walked on the mostly flattened path, surprised to see even the longer grass cut down to gently tickle his ankles.
He refused to think this was done because of him, falling like a dumbass last time he walked here.
Most surprisingly, was the fact there was no sign of Farmer when he reached her house. Her crops were dry, and her tools lay in a heap next to her porch.
He checked his phone. 6:44… She was up and about this hour last time he visited.
Dread made his blood run cold. Something wasn’t right. Farmer was always up at the ass crack of dawn. He looked at the pepper bushes, they were ready to be harvested.
He ran the last few paces towards the house, knocking piercingly on the wooden door, “Mary! You in there?” he yelled, worry clawing at his chest.
He waited with bated breath, had she gone to town? No, she wouldn’t leave without grabbing her stupid peppers to sell.
A high-pitched mewl came through the door.
“She has a cat?” He murmured to himself as the creature meowed pitifully, scratching at the other side of the door.
Shane heard a faint groan through the door, “Coming!”
He sighed in relief.
Wait, why was he worried in the first place?
The door opened to a breathtaking sight, distracting his thoughts. Shane felt his cheeks heating up to his ears.
Mary leaned on the half-opened door in soft flannel pants and a simple black t-shirt. Her raven hair was in a half-undone messy braid, and her face looked so exhausted that he hated himself for waking her.
An orange blur skipped between her legs and clumsily jumped down the porch. Shane startled, almost having a heart attack. “Fuck!” He clutched his heart, breathing through the momentary jump scare. He turned back to the farmer, his eyes dancing between her and the mewling orange kitten rolling in the tilled dirt happily.
“Uh… hi?” he said.
She snorted a laugh, her hand flying to her mouth too late to hide it.
He glared at her, “What?” He snapped, harsher than he meant to.
She grinned, as always unbothered by his prickly side, “Nothing. Hi,” She said nonchalantly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but broke into a fit of coughing into her fist.
“You okay?” Shane waited it out uncertainly. Why did he come here in the first place?
“Yeah, yeah, just a cold.” She finally calmed down, looking tired again. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She smiled groggily.
“I uh… I just wanted to…” He stumbled, scratching the back of his neck. I wanted to say sorry for jerking off to the thought of you.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday…” He started just as he had practiced on his way here: “It was embarrassing, and I’m sorry for everything I’ve said and done.” He scratched at his neck, feeling out of place.
"Don't apologize, it's okay." She said.
His fists were clutched by his sides as he looked down at his shoes instead. "No. It's not." He shut his eyes.
“Hey,” her warm hand landed on his arm, making him look at her again. Why did her touch never trigger his nerves into burning themself?
Her eyes were warm pools of coffee as she offered. “Why don’t you come inside?”
He obliged when she tugged on his Joja jacket sleeve, leading him deeper into her home.
He greedily collapsed on her couch, even early in the morning, the weather outside had taken a toll on him. Fuck, wasn't it supposed to be fall already? Why was summer heat still lingering around? Damn universe just making living hard for him. Despite the heat, he refused to be seen without his jacket. At least it hides his bloated figure...
“Have you had breakfast yet?” She asked, moving to her side kitchen, Robin had really done a nice job renovating her farmhouse.
“Uh…” he replied, “No?”
She snorted again, turning on her stove, “That’s alright.” She hummed happily, breaking eggs in a pan. Every now and again, she coughed into her elbow.
“You should get that looked at.” He muttered, following her with his eyes. Her arms flexed in the t-shirt she wore. Damn this woman has some guns on her… It was even more impressive on display like this.
She shook her head, “Harvey’s closed today.”
He frowned, not remembering the doctor’s hours. Then it hit him, square in the face. She must’ve caught a cold from hauling his ass to the hospital in pouring rain.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, shame rising bile in the back of his throat.
“Psht,” She waved him off, turning the stone off and plating food, “Stop apologizing, shit happens.”
He wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe even both. As if at the end of the day, that was that. ‘Shit happens.’
"Robin's done a nice job?" He was the shittiest man on Earth when it came to small talk.
She took it in stride though, "Oh yeah! She added this entire section to the original cabin. I'm clearing out behind the house so she can expand again." Mary smiled, gesturing to the ceiling, where the new paint was clear next to the older one.
"Expand?" He asked, watching her fry a heap of bacon.
She grinned, "Yeah! I want to add more rooms to the back." She plated the bacon and turned the stove off. "I want to make this home as comfortable as I can, I guess it's the Zuzu City in me."
“Good for you, I guess,” Shane scratched his neck awkwardly. He still couldn’t believe how content she was to make a long-term home here. “I could never plan that far into the future.” He wasn’t sure why it slipped out of his mouth. Maybe it was because she’s already seen him at rock bottom.
She put two plates piled with eggs and crisp bacon on the coffee table, leaning down to catch his eyes and offering a warm smile, “I’m glad you’re still here.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners; her chaotic dark hair framed her tanned face. In her flannel pants and black t-shirt, she was the most beautiful sight Shane had ever seen.
“I… thanks.” He nodded, swallowing thickly as he felt short of oxygen.
‘I’m glad you’re still here.’
Somehow, the words etched themselves in Shane’s mind, playing on loop. She was glad he was still here, in her house, eating her eggs and bacon with her, when all he had done was to make her catch a cold and wake her up excessively early.
He was really about to kill himself, huh?
Would he be dead and sinking to the bottom of the ocean at this very moment?
How would Marnie feel searching around for him? Would Jas worry? Would they ever find his body, washed up on the shore, or would they forever wonder if he had just abandoned them?
He scowled down at his shaking hands.
He wouldn't have been here...
He wouldn’t have eaten breakfast with the farmer…
“Eat, it’ll get cold.” She murmured softly from the loveseat on the other side of the coffee table, her plate balanced on her legs as she shoved bacon in her mouth, swallowing the fork whole.
He stared at her in wonder instead. Yoba, she looked so soft and fuzzy like this.
He raised a similar bacon to his mouth, enjoying chewing the crispy, seasoned heavenly food. He was starving. He groaned in delight, shoveling more in his mouth, inhaling the food. “Mhh... Did you pepper this?” His manners were gone through the window as he mumbled with his mouth full.
“Yeah… I did.” She sounded distracted.
He looked up from his plate, his cheeks still full, to take her expression in. She had a light color over her cheeks, and her eyes were on him, piercing and sharp as a knife.
He swallowed thickly. “I think you have a fever…” He mumbled, not taking his eyes off her in return.
“Yeah… I think I do.” She replied faintly.
He looked away first.
“Do you think you can work today?” He asked, looking out the window at her dry and unharvested crops.
“Nah, just looking down makes me dizzy." She shook her head for a second, holding the side of her temple and sighing. "Besides, I’m on my period.”
“Uhh…” He said. It was his turn to blush bright red, feeling woozy with the blood rushing to his head. It was in this moment that he fully realized the situation he was in. He was alone with a girl in her house, far away from town.
Of course, those things could easily mean he was somewhere no one could hear his screams, with a woman who could murder him as easily as swatting flies. Either way, he found himself short of breath.
She was having a fever, that’s why it must’ve slipped her. Fuck. He stood from the couch, unsure what to do as he scanned her relaxed posture.
She chuckled warmly, “Calm down, sweetheart, you’re gonna blow up a fuse.” She grinned impishly, “It happens every month.” She elaborated coyly.
“You can’t just tell that to a man!” He snapped, feeling his ears burn with heat; no doubt he looked like a stupid tomato.
She tilted her head, her messy braid following the action, “Why not? You should know this by now.” She had a shit eating grin on.
He screeched, hands flying heavenward, “UGH! That’s not the point!” he hid his burning face in his hands.
She chuckled more heartily, leaning back in her seat and laughing at his expense. She was teasing him.
He muttered his annoyance but sat down again and continued eating either way. It was good, and he was too hungry to say no to free food.
After he finished, he collected her plate too and took them to the sink, ignoring her protests, “You cooked it, I’ll clean.” He said resolutely, making her sit back down.
“If you say so.” She settled back; it was her turn to watch his every move in her kitchen. He made quick work of it, not wanting to heat up anymore under her watchful gaze.
In the silence that had overtaken between them, suddenly scratching noises were heard over the door. She sighed, getting up, “I’ve gotta ask Robin for a pet door next,” she grumbled.
Mary opened the door to let in a dirty but infinitely smug orange ball of fur inside, probably looking for its breakfast.
She turned to where Shane was by the sink, “Do you mind filling his bowl? I feel light-headed…” She asked softly, looking at him with pleading eyes before dragging her feet back to the couch and collapsing to the cushions face first.
He exhaled, drying his hands on a fluffy towel by the sink, “Uhh… sure.” Shane didn’t mind; honestly, he owed her this and much more.
He searched through her cabinets before finding the kibble. The rustle of the packaging made the furry creature run to him at top speed. It clung to his bare legs with its sharp claws, begging in high-pitched meows.
Mary laughed from the couch.
Shane winced but quickly distracted the kitten by filling his bowl. For good measure, he set out a water bowl a few inches away.
"What's his name?" Shane murmured, crouching next to the purring kitten and patting its head.
"Carrot." She was watching him with a smile.
"That's a stupid name." Shane huffed, getting up with a grunt, “You should get an automated feeder.” He complained, side-stepping the tiny menace.
“I know… I will…” Her voice was muffled by the cushions again as she lay face down, and Shane struggled to divert his eyes elsewhere.
He should leave, but he also didn’t want to abandon her like this. All alone, in a big house away from town… Sick.
He sighed. Trying to think.
On one hand, it could be him overstepping her boundaries; she just dragged him to a hospital, which doesn’t mean she wants to hang around his ugly mug any more than she has to. On another hand, he still owed her a life debt, and it was astronomically ungrateful of him not to at least try to do something nice for her in return. Especially since he was fully to blame for her current situation.
He sighed again, more defeated.
“Do you need a hand with the crops today?” he asked.
Her face turned on the couch to look at him instead.
He vaguely knew what she could be thinking, the town’s suicidal drunk, in his sports shorts and ratty Joja jacket, handling her farm? He had tripped on a branch and scraped his knee like a clumsy kid. He sweated his ass off from just walking for fuck’s sake!
But he wasn’t that useless, he swore it… He helped around Marnie’s ranch; he could help her too…
He stood awkwardly in the middle of her house, fidgeting with his hands and waiting for her verdict.
Her gaze swept over him once more, “Sure… If it’s not a lot of trouble, I’d appreciate my crops not dying.” She said easily, looking at him with her striking, too sharp eyes, “Thanks, Shane.” Her tone was sincere, and somehow loaded with entrusting him with her farm.
He nodded mutely and almost bolted out of her door.
Fuck.
~~~~
He started with harvesting the peppers, ripe and red and sun-warmed. Maybe the farm really had better soil than the rest of the Valley; these were all high-quality stuff, even if they were older than they should've been. Thankfully, for the farmer's best interests seemed like the lingering heat of summer was keeping her last season's crops alive. This close, he could see the crops reaching the end of their yield though. She needs to uproot these and start on in-season young plants soon. But seeds are expensive...
He was more careful than he would’ve been with his own peppers back at home. Taking them off the shrub, he delicately set them in a basket.
He was almost tempted to bite one and taste it, but refrained. Mary was already giving him leeway with letting him mess with these; no need to be thieving on her produce.
Her farm was even more impressive up close; it was clearly done with a plan beforehand. Rows of hot peppers were neatly organized next to growing sunflowers and blueberry bushes. Thankfully, the rows were big enough for him to crouch in between.
He wiped his brow with the dry parts of his shirt as he set another basket of peppers in the shade. It was almost noon, and he felt sticky and gross with sweat, but at least the crouching and gathering of produce off the plants was a familiar motion to him.
An ironic reverse version of his job, stocking shelves in the mart, he took the empty baskets and returned them full.
He looked over her farm again. She had hops growing on wooden poles on the side. He looked at them, uncertain if they were ready for harvest or not. Ultimately, he decided not to mess with them without Mary's confirmation.
I wonder if it means she can make her own beer…
He stopped in his tracks, scowling at himself with hatred. Unbelievable. He almost died, and all he can think about is beer again? He did deserve to die.
He cursed himself with each breath as he plucked the corns with less gentleness.
At some point, she had come to the porch, sitting in her creaky rocking chair and watching him work shamelessly. It was different from Morris’ eyes watching him crouch for hours on end with a condescending smirk. Mary was an apex predator, but recently he didn't feel in danger of her hidden claws.
He could feel the weight of her gaze, and it wasn’t doing anything in favor of his already warm cheeks. He felt almost perverted working on her plants and squatting down between the rows of tilled soil. Wasn’t this the premise of some porn films?
"Damn it all..." He mumbled under his breath. He really shouldn’t have thought about something like that. He flushed brighter, giving himself a headache with how warm he felt.
“Shane!” She yelled from her porch, waving him over, “Come rest! You look hot!”
As if possible, he flushed more. She didn’t mean it like that, get it together asshole!
He put the basket down, keeping his head down as he joined her on the porch, “Oh dear, you’re as red as a ripe pepper!” She smiled teasingly, gesturing for the other chair across her, “Sit down, I’ll get you something to cool down.”
She patted his sweaty shoulder softly as she stood up and went inside. His skin buzzed where she had touched.
She returned with a tray of two orange glasses and a bottle, “Orange juice.” She said as she set them down, “Grandpa had this tree… I managed to coax it back to yielding.”
He touched the cool glass to his forehead, feeling the condensation chill his heated skin pleasantly. “Thanks.” He muttered.
He took a sip and hummed in appreciation, enjoying tracking the cool liquid running down his throat to his stomach, “How are you this good?”
“What?” Only after she asked, he realized what he had said.
“I mean…” He backtracked, “How are you this good at the farming stuff? I thought you said you worked for Joja.” Nice save.
“Oh!” She blinked at his remark for a while, “Well, I did. This isn’t me. Grandpa was an astonishing farmer. He wrote notes in a handbook. I’m just following his logs.” She chuckled humbly. He felt disgusted by it.
“Bullshit!” He snapped, way nastier than he meant to, “You hauled my ass to Harvey’s. How’d you get the super strength?”
She looked at him with alarm, and he instantly felt horrible. Here he was again, unable to even drink fucking orange juice with a woman in peace.
To her credit, she recovered quickly, “Well, I wouldn’t call it super strength per se…” She regarded him for a moment, then tilted her head with a smile, “I used to weight lift back in Zuzu.”
He gaped at her. What?
“What?”
She giggled at his flabbergasted expression. “You’re not that much heavier than some of the produce I haul back to town~” She winked at him, her eyes playfully scanning him up and down. Damn this woman. How does she always look so poised?
“You- What? But I- How?” He stumbled over his words, sloshing some of the precious orange juice over his knuckles.
She looked at him with clear amusement. “Farm work is a workout, naturally.”
“Unbelievable.” He grumbled as he sat back down.
She can bench press weights...
He blamed the heat of the summer for how warm his collar felt.
They sipped their juices in silence, only the sound of wind lightly creating waves through her wheat field accompanying them. It was almost enough to distract him from his yearning for a cold beer.
“Has she talked about it yet?” Mary breaks the silence, soft as the murmur of a breeze.
He keeps his eyes trained on the plants, swaying side to side. He knew this would come up, sooner or later. “She says I should talk to Harvey’s counselor friend.” He mutters in answer.
She hummed in acknowledgement, letting the silence linger again, “Do you want to?”
He sighed, feeling heavier, “I don’t know…”
She turned her head towards him, and he met her eyes on instinct. “It’s okay not being happy.”
His breath hitched, but she continued, “You know happiness isn’t a constant buzz, right? Neither should sadness be. Feelings should be felt as they come. If you push them down or try to stretch them thin with lingering in them, they hurt you.” She murmured.
It sounded absolute bullshit to him, “What now? You’re a wise old man too?” he scoffed bitterly.
She laughed, which turned into a fit of coughs, “Maybe.” She winked again, looking pained.
She looked messy; her black shirt remained, but she had changed into jeans. Her dirty boots gave her a more weathered appearance. Her braid was redone, but at her temples, it stuck to her skin with sweat. She still looked better than whatever Shane was at the moment.
“Do you think I should?” He asked in a small voice.
“Only if you want to.” She replied easily with a shrug.
She was baffling. Answers came easily with her, but not out of shallowness.
“I haven’t watered the tomatoes.” He said and got up from the chair. Not daring to meet her eyes lest they capture him again. "You should go inside."
"Alright." She agreed easily, sitting back in her chair.
He picked up her old watering can, no doubt left from the times of her grandfather. "You need to install an irrigation system!" He called back to her, complaining as he drew up water from her well, filling the can. Goddamit, she's out here living the caveman's life. He felt his biceps trembling as he sloshed water from the bucket to the watering can. No wonder she has those muscles.
She giggled again, "Whatever you say." She continued watching him with rapt attention.
He tried to ignore it.
~~~~
It was early in the afternoon. Worst weekend ever.
Not only did he waste away Saturday in bed, but he worked like a mule his Sunday! How was he supposed to survive the coming week?! He heaved as he sweated like a dog, hands on his knees and bent in half. How does she do it? Sweet Yoba... He almost missed working at Jojomarts under the AC system.
He felt her shadow covering him. "Hey," he looked up to see her smiling down at him, "Water?" She held a bottle with moisture on its surface.
"Fuck yeah." He grabbed it, ignoring her handprint between the dew-like drops as he chugged it down.
She watched him through it with a smile, "I can't thank you enough for today, I couldn't do it myself." She said with a smile, her hand hovering over his elbow without touching. Yoba, she was touchy...
He nodded awkwardly. "Uh.. No problem." He shuffled on his feet. He hoped he didn't have to slave away for her on his weekends again ever again.
"I'll call Lewis to get these to Pierre's then." She looked at the tower of produce sorted in crates and boxes with a smile. "Again, thank you." She directed that proud smile over to him.
He looked away, feeling too sweaty and dirty to be receiving her attention. "'S fine.."
"Come here." She picked a box of peppers from the top, swapping a few of them with other boxes, and then holding it out to him. "Take this. For your troubles."
He looked in the box, and not a single one had any imperfections. Damn, she picked the cream of the crop...
"I can't-" he held up his hands.
"Sure you can." She pushed it against his chest, and he automatically grabbed it. "Say hi to Jas and Marnie for me."
Before he knew it, he was walking back to the ranch with a box of red peppers to show for his troubles, feeling like he'd swallowed multiple of them.
No need to mention, Marnie felt disgustingly PROUD of him when she heard where he was all day.
He was too exhausted to go to the dock and his hidden stash...
~~~~
You took stock of the crates and boxes, 12 pepper yields, 8 corns, 6 blueberries, and 9 tomatoes. All neatly piled in the shade, courtesy of Shane.
True to your words, you called Lewis to bring his truck up the road. Shane had gone far beyond your imagination to help today.
You grinned at the memories. You would cherish it for days to come, to watch him wipe his brow with the hem of his shirt, showing his pale stomach in the process...
Hot and sweaty from a day of hard work, he looked gorgeous. You send prayers and mental high fives to the higher power that had held off the cold for another month yet to grace your eyes with that sight. You had almost felt perverted enjoying the sight of him crouching, but oh well, you never claimed to be a saint. He was flustered the entire time, you could tell. And if you were a better person, you wouldn't have teased him as much. Alas, you couldn't stop yourself from enjoying him fumbling and blushing.
He never even mentioned payment. What a sweetheart. You have to tread lightly to make it up to him.
You had to plan. One wrong move and he would flee, but if you played your cards right... heh.
You let out an almost evil laugh.
~~~~
Monday couldn't have been a worse day to start the week.
His muscles cramped, and despite the warm shower he took yesterday, he felt like his limbs were locking up like a badly oiled robot. He sighed; he felt too old for his age.
Morris would no doubt be an asshole today.
He was a suicidal dumbass, couldn't the world cut him some slack after his traumatic experience?
He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking the path to work again, ignoring the birds and squirrels running around playfully.
Fuck this.
He avoided walking in front of Harvey's or Pierre's. He fucking forgot to threaten Farmer into keeping her mouth shut yesterday. "Shane!" There she was, the devil in question, as if summoned by his thoughts.. She leaned to the side of the bridge on his path, fishing pole in hand, as if she didn't have anything better to do than be conveniently blocking his way like a bridge ogre.
She smiled as she looked up. "Heya sunshine!"
He had a few minutes to spare, Joja was across the bridge. "Why do you keep doing this?" He asked with a defeated sigh.
"Do what?" She reeled her pole in and set it aside.
"This!" He gestured to her entire existence, frustrated, "You keep doing this!" He gritted his teeth.
She chuckled, jovial, and he seethed, "I just came to give you this." She produced a brown paper bag from her jacket pocket and offered it to him. He eyed it suspiciously but opened it to reveal... An ungodly amount of cash inside.
"Fuck you," He felt hot anger boil inside his stomach, "I'm not a charity case!" He yelled, throwing it back at her face. She caught it before it hit her. Go to hell!
"It's not. It's just your share of yesterday's yield."
"Bullshit." He hissed, balling his hands. He felt shaky, like he wanted to punch something, or someone. Probably because his system was in withdrawal, lacking any alcohol for the last two days...
She smiled, understandingly, "I expected this to happen, so I brought this." She took a small leather-bound notepad from her inner breast pocket and opened it to a bookmark page. She gestured him forward, and when he remained in place, she stepped into his personal space instead.
"This is Pierre's payment receipt from yesterday. 12 peppers were 720, 8 corns were 498, 6 blue berries 372, and 9 tomato boxes were 675... In total, 2,265 buckaroos." She showed her neat handwriting; this was her finance notebook, a daily balance sheet. Neat...
"So your share, since you did all the work, is a third of the total, 755." She pushed the brown paper bag into his jacket pocket, patting it as if that would make it stay this time. "Thanks again."
She put her pole over her shoulder and started to walk towards town, "I could use the help more, y'know? Later."
With that, she disappeared down the road, as if bothering Shane over the bridge was her only task today. It probably was.
The cash felt heavy in his pocket as he walked through Joja's doors. Damn.
Maybe he should quit his job here and go start a farm like hers. Nah he would probably suck at it.
He would do better if he joined her and mooched off her high-quality crop sales.
"Morning, Shane~" Morris greeted him from his desk.
"Morning." He grunted back.
He put his cap on, mentally readying himself for a day of monotonous stocking and cleaning bathrooms.
The farmer paid him worth a week's of Jojamart.
Shut up. Don't think about it.