Page 6 of That One Night
He took the long way home, cutting across the fields on his dirt bike. The scent of warm hay and earth clung to the air, carried by the breeze off the creek.
His Uncle Logan was out by the west fence, clipboard in one hand and wire cutters in the other.
Hendrix coasted to a stop and swung off the bike. “Leak’s all fixed. Checked the whole line. There are no more holes.”
His uncle nodded, satisfied. “That section’s been bleeding for days.”
“Not anymore. It’s good to go.”
Logan walked over, his strides easy, steady. He was tall like all the Hartson men, but carried a kind of calm Hendrix hadn’t yet figured out how to fake.
“You heading home?” his uncle asked, looking up at the fading sun.
“Yeah. Might start on the gutters before it gets dark.” Hendrix slung his gear bag over his shoulder. “Roof’s next.”
“You’re putting in the hours.”
“Trying to make it mine,” Hendrix said simply.
“You already have.” Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And Court said to tell you dinner’s on the stove if you want it. Meatloaf and cake.”
“She doesn’t quit.” Courtney was his aunt. Like all his family, she loved to feed him up, despite the fact he was six-foot two and all muscle.
“She’s a Hartson.” His uncle shrugged. “It’s how we love.”
“I’ll swing by and grab some cake tomorrow,” Hendrix promised.
Logan nodded, then added, “Your mom cornered me at the store this morning. Wanted to know if I’d seen any unfamiliar vehicles at your place.”
Hendrix groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t answer her.”
“I told her if you had a harem, you were doing a damn good job keeping it quiet.”
“She’s never gonna stop.” Hendrix rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d think with Pres and Marley giving her grandkids left and right, she’d have her hands full.”
“She’s a mom,” Logan said simply. “And moms worry.”
“I know. But I’m doing okay.” He paused. “Just… maybe not the way she wants me to be.”
Logan nodded. “That’s still okay. You don’t have to be anything but who you are.”
Hendrix started to reply, but Logan held up a hand.
“Oh, and Alice Reed called.”
Hendrix winced. The farmer’s widow living in the cottage opposite his seemed to enjoy making his life a misery.
“She says your ‘infernal machine’ is giving her hens palpitations.” Logan smirked. “Apparently her daughter’s coming home this week, and she doesn’t want her disturbed.”
That made Hendrix snort. “The woman times my coffee breaks like she’s got a drone on me.”
“She’s got eyes everywhere and zero tolerance for nonsense. And she’s your neighbor now,” Logan pointed out.
“I’ll drop off an apology card. Maybe some earplugs for her daughter.”
Logan laughed. “Just don’t rile her up. You’ve got enough going on.”
With a nod, Hendrix kicked the bike to life. The engine roared as he took off through the pasture, the wind hitting his face and the last light chasing his shadow over the golden fields.
