Any Way the Wind Blows Read online

  She stared up at me, searching my eyes for a long moment. I smiled, and then she was leaning up, and—

  Leaning in for a kiss.

  "Oh. Oh, hey, no," I said, gently but firmly pushing her back with a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, no."

  She pulled away immediately, sitting up on the other side of the couch. I sat there, my drunken mind churning through what had happened sluggishly. She leaned forward against her knees, shaking her head in her hands. "Fuck. Sorry. I don't know why I did that." She groaned miserably.

  Shit, I felt terrible for her. As weird as it was for me, it had to be embarrassing as hell for her. "Hey." I gently laid a hand on the curve of her rolled-in shoulders. "Hey, it's alright. Really, I'm, uh, I'm flattered."

  "No, it's not, that's not even..." She gave a frustrated huff and leaned back into the couch. She still wasn't looking at me, staring straight up at the ceiling. I started to say something else, but she just shook her head to cut me off. "I didn't even want to do that," she said, finally looking at me. "I didn't. I thought… It's stupid, but I thought, you're great, and I really like being around you, and maybe this was why. Maybe I was interested in girls, and that was why I'm not interested in him." Her face twisted with embarrassment as she added, "I thought you were a lesbian. Or bi, maybe. I'm sorry."

  "No, really, it's okay." Shit, I was entirely too drunk for this, but I wanted to explain. It might be irreversibly awkward if I didn't. "Have you ever heard of asexuality?" From the blank look that she gave me, I was going to assume not. "It basically means that you're not sexually attracted to people. There are different types: asexual people who want a romantic relationship, demi-sexual people, who typically don't experience sexual attraction but do once in a while, aromantic people who don't experience romantic attraction. There are more, but you get the idea. I'm aromantic asexual. So, basically I'm not sexually or romantically attracted to people. I love people, but not in that way people get where they want to date. The entire idea is foreign to me." I paused, eyeing her carefully. "Does that make sense?"

  She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I… yes?" She was quiet, the space between her eyes creased deeply with thought. "I didn't know that was a thing."

  "Yeah, I didn't know either, at first. I figured out when I was in college, when I came across it online. Something just sort of…clicked, and suddenly everything made sense."

  She rolled her head to look up at the ceiling again, quiet for long enough that I had to check and make sure she was still awake. I didn't know what to say and figured she just needed some time to think about it, so I curled up in the other corner, settling into my buzz as I prepared to wait it out.

  I was just dozing off by the time she broke the silence. "I wasn't avoiding you, you know."

  It took my drunk brain a few moments to catch up and remember what I said earlier, about not knowing whether or not she'd been avoiding me. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. I just… wasn't going out of my way to find you, though." She looked at me, and her eyes were soft and warm. "Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry I tried to kiss you."

  "It really wasn't a big deal," I said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She hesitated, then leaned in against me again. When she looked up, as if to check in with me, I just smiled and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in against me. "I like being around you too, you know."

  "Yeah?" I nodded, and she gave me a sleepy smile before settling into my shoulder. The tiny sigh she made when I put my hand back in her hair made me feel warm all over. "Good."

  Within a few minutes she was fast asleep, and I followed close behind.

  *~*~*

  The next morning was a blur of hangover-induced misery, my head pounding as I cursed my way through mucking the stalls. There was nothing like puking in a galvanized bucket surrounded by goats to make you regret every single one of your life choices. My only consolation was that I'd seen Jo wincing behind sunglasses earlier, so at least I wasn't alone in my misery.

  As soon as I finished my first set of chores, I headed up to the house, set on a cup of strong coffee and a hot shower. I'd woken up too late to have either this morning.

  Mark was at the fridge, adding milk to his own cup, and I nodded a greeting to him. He didn't seem to notice, so I tried again, this time adding a "hey."

  He sure noticed me that time. He shot me an annoyed glare and closed the refrigerator door hard enough to make the contents rattle and my head ache. "Do you need something?"

  "Uh." I had no idea where this came from, but apparently I wasn't the only one having a shitty morning. "Nope."

  He gave me a look, then went back to his computer, fiddling around with some sort of Excel file. I finished mixing my coffee, and then high tailed it out to the porch. There was no way I was hanging out in the kitchen with Mr. Moody.

  I'd just settled into a rocking chair, sighing happily into my hot cup of brew, when I heard the other screen door slam. "Morning, Mark," Jo mumbled, and I grinned. Yeah, she definitely wasn't doing any better than I was.

  "Late night ?" Mark asked, after a pause. It was a normal enough remark to make to someone who was nursing a hangover, but there was something pointed about his tone. It immediately got my back up, and I wasn't even the one talking to him.

  "Uh, yeah," Jo said, tone suddenly alert and cautious. If I hadn't thought this conversation seemed weird before, that was like a siren. "Callie came over last night," she said slowly. "We stayed up too late."

  "Yeah? What'd you girls get up to?" Again, pointed. It was strange. The words would seem perfectly fine on paper, but they were steeped in insinuation. I'd run into that type before. If you kept your phrasing neutral, then anyone who said anything to a third party would sound like they were overreacting. I was unsettled at the idea that it might be happening right now.

  There was the sound of a spoon rattling against the mug, loud enough that it made me wince. Jo was trying to get out of there fast, if she wasn't even willing to slow down long enough to keep the spoon from clanging during a hangover. "Nothing really."

  "People don't walk around looking like something the cat dragged in over nothing, Jojo."

  Nicknames weren't supposed to sound like that. Patronizing, like an insult.

  The spoon clattered, the sound of being dropped into the porcelain sink. "Don't know what to tell you, Mark. She came over, we ate, had a few drinks, passed out. That's it."

  "Uh-huh." He didn't sound particularly convinced. There was a pause long enough that I thought maybe he was dropping it, but then, "You talked to Aaron lately?"

  Wow, subtle. I didn't believe for a second that those two points were unrelated, no matter what all the false-casualness in his voice tried to suggest.

  Judging by how long it took her to respond, Jo didn't think so either. "Yes," she said, slowly. Like stepping in a trap because there was no way around.

  "You going out with him? He said he was going to ask."

  "No."

  "No, he didn't ask, or no, you're not going out with him?"

  Another pause. "No, I'm not going out with him."

  "Goddamn it, Jo." Mark's voice was a growl, and I gripped my cup tighter. "You can't lead the guy on, he's—"

  "I'm not leading him on!"

  I raised my eyebrows. The cutoff, loud and edged with something that was almost desperation, was a stark departure from anything I'd seen from her.

  "I tell him no, he keeps asking. That ain't leading him on." Her voice was calmer now. Placating.

  "And what the hell makes you so great, Jojo?" Mark was raising his voice now, and I was too stunned to do anything. Jo was great, and even if she wasn't, she still had the right to say no to any guy.

  The room was silent, the tension so thick I could even feel it out on the porch. Mark cut it with an irritated sigh before starting again. "You're not gonna find any better than him, Jo, and you messing around could really fuck us up good. His daddy runs the feed store. If you get us in bad with him—"

&n
bsp; "So, what? I'm just supposed to go out with him so you can get in good with the feed guy?"

  "Well, girl, that money I'm saving is to put food on this table, food you eat, and you know I'm giving you a discount on that shop because we're family. I start having to raise prices, I'm not gonna be able to afford to carry you."

  She made an incredulous sound, frustrated and angry. "You're not carrying anybody, Mark, I pay you rent."

  "But I give you a discount."

  "Because I had to fit it with all my equipment! I was doing you a favor, so that you could get the rent money instead of that set up shop downtown!"

  There was a bang on the table and the sound of the chair scraping against wood floor from getting up too fast. "Don't interrupt me, little girl!"

  I knew that Mark was her older brother, but the thought of anyone calling Jo, with her stoic face, muscled arms that stretched the sleeves of her shirts, and US Army tattoo, a little girl was absurd.

  It worked, though. Jo was silent.

  Mark said, "I was actually talking about that house of yours."

  Really, dude? I thought. That house?

  "That 'house' doesn't have indoor plumbing, Mark! I mean, who the hell is going to rent that? There's no electricity, no insulation, no water."

  "But I could fix it up."

  "You've been saying you'll fix it up for years. What was fixed is stuff I fixed, because you couldn't be bothered! I put on the new roof myself!"

  "But it's my property, Jojo. End of story."

  The silence didn't last long, but it felt like it dragged on forever. When Jo finally spoke again, she just sounded tired. "So basically, you're going to kick me out if I don't go out with Aaron."

  "Hey, hey now," Mark said, and he sounded honestly shocked. As if that wasn't exactly what he'd said. Except, he hadn't, had he? He'd insinuated the hell out of it, but he hadn't actually come right out with it. "I never said that. I'm just saying—"

  Whatever he was 'just saying', I didn't hear. I wasn't going to be able to go back in that house without giving Mark a piece of my mind and, ultimately, making things worse for Jo. So I gave up on my shower and booked it to the goat shed instead. I'd sooner wash with a cold hose before I listened to one more word of that.

  *~*~*

  When I didn't see Jo much that afternoon, worry started creep in. Would she avoid me because of Mark? It would be disappointing, of course, but I couldn't blame her if she did. I got the distinct impression that Mark thought I was out to turn Jo gay, and maybe staying away from me would buy her some more time with her family to avoid Aaron. I only had a few more days before I moved on and, hell, my FarmShare profile had four solid years of five star reviews. If the situation got awkward enough, I could ditch without any real repercussions.

  I wished the same could be said for Jo.

  I knew what I would have done, if I was her. I would have left a long time ago. I wasn't the type to try and work through things so much as salt and burn the bridges behind me as I crossed them. Even when I stayed in people's lives, I was like a seasonal bird, showing up on your porch one day before ultimately leaving again without much of a warning. I didn't stay long enough for people to get sick of me, or expect me to act a certain way, and I would flee at the first sign of trouble. The fact that I wasn't immediately packing my bags after hearing how Mark felt was a surprise, but I didn't want to leave Jo. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her, and was actually… regretting that I had to leave so soon.

  That thought scared the hell out of me.

  I was still working this over in my mind while I weeded the beds, so focused on my task that I didn't know anyone was behind me until Jo said, "Hi, Callie."

  Even with everything bothering me, I couldn't help but grin at the sound of her voice. "Hey!" I looked up at her over my shoulder. "How're you?"

  "I'm alright." She had her arms wrapped against her chest, but the corner of her mouth tugged up in that tiny smile of hers, so I didn't think she was upset with me. No, she seemed shy, more than anything. Was she embarrassed about last night? "Are you doing anything tonight?"

  "There's that movie thing tonight, right?" Early in the week, someone mentioned in passing that there was usually a movie projected onto one of the barns on Thursdays. "Why, are you going?"

  "Yeah." She crouched down next to me, and began to needlessly tidy the little pile of weeds I'd collected. "I was wondering if you wanted to go together."

  I wanted to tease her about acting so nervous when it wasn't a date, but I didn't want to spook her, especially after that kiss disaster. Instead, I just smiled and nodded. "Sure, I'd love to. I'll bring us some snacks."

  She frowned, and elbowed me in the side. "Hey, don't bring anything, I'll get it. You give me too much. Let me give you something for once."

  "You gave me dinner."

  "You showed up at my house at dinner time, and I'm not rude enough to eat in front of you without offering any. Not the same." She pulled a little notebook and a pen out of her back pocket. "What do you want?"

  I gave her a long look, and she just raised her eyebrows expectantly. Finally, I rolled my eyes and gave in. "I like dark chocolate. Especially if it has fruit or nuts in it."

  The victorious little smirk on her face as she took note was worth letting her win. "Alright then." She stood and wiped off her jeans, as if there weren't oil stains all over them. "See you tonight, Callie."

  "Later, Jo." I watched her go before scrubbing a hand over my face. I didn't know what was going on with me. I just knew that, as long as Jo still wanted me around, I wasn't leaving here any sooner than I had to.

  *~*~*

  "Callie!"

  Jo lifted her hand when I looked in the direction of her voice, across the barnyard, and I began to pick my way through the crowd. When I heard people talking about the movie night, I was picturing a small affair with just the employees. Boy, was I wrong.

  The barnyard was packed with bodies, a quilt of sheets and blankets spread out over the grass. Kids ran around, chasing each other and screaming with delight at whatever game they'd made up. In the corner there was a pack of teenagers, laughing as they shared a king's ransom in snacks. It was idyllic, really. The perfect image of a small town community event.

  "Full house, huh?" I flopped down on Jo's blanket, grinning big. "Hey, you got my chocolate!"

  "Of course." She rolled her eyes fondly as I tore into the bar. "And the whole town turns out for these. Mark started throwing them about five years ago. People buy refreshments and a lot of them end up joining or staying with our CSA. It's good business."

  "Cool." With the amount of snacks I saw around that had to be from concessions—soda and popcorn, ice cream cones, stuff like that—they had to be cleaning up. "Hey, beer!"

  I made a grabby hands gesture, and Jo passed it over, cracking it open for me first. "I figured we could stick to one tonight."

  "You're no fun," I teased, but then admitted, "But it's probably a good idea. I try to keep the amount of times I get trashed a week to a minimum. Once a week, at the most. Maybe two, if there's a special occasion."

  "How adult of you."

  It was dry, and I could tell she was hiding a smirk behind her own bottle. I laughed and shoved her, and she just put one arm behind her head as she fell back against the blanket, very smooth. "Yeah, well, fuck you, Josefina. I can be so adult, you know, I can-"

  "There are children here."

  I jerked my head up to see the source of the new, deep voice that was suddenly behind me. The jerk from the bus station parking lot standing over me. Jo sat up immediately, while I just raised my eyebrows.

  "Uh, yeah, there are." I did a quick glance around. "But not right here, and it's not like I'm shouting 'fuck' across the yard." The guy's mouth twitched when I swore, and I wasn't even going to pretend that wasn't satisfying. "Besides, this is a private conversation. I think it'll be okay." I couldn't help but put a little extra emphasis on private.

  He gave me a s
harp look, and I barely resisted rolling my eyes. Then, all his attention was on Jo, as if I hadn't even happened.

  "Hello, Josey." He was very stiff, dressed in a polo and Ralph Lauren shorts, with loafers of all things. Connecticut Casual, or whatever it was called. I had the urge to ask him about his yacht. He was blandly attractive and—actually, that about summed it up. Bland.

  "Hey Aaron," Jo said, and I narrowed my eyes. This the guy that everyone was falling all over? For the life of me, I couldn't understand why. "Uh, this is Callie. She's working with Mark through FarmShare."

  "Nice to meet you," I lied, with a little wave.

  He didn't even look at me, and my eyebrows shot up my forehead. It wasn't like I actually cared about him being rude to me, but I wasn't sure how he saw that going well for him, with Jo sitting right there. "I was thinking that you and I could sit together." For a moment I thought he meant with us, but then he gestured to his own blanket, a little ways away. An invitation that was clearly not extended to me.

  I couldn't help it, I just gaped at him, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Jo staring blankly as well. Did he honestly not realize that we were hanging out together? More likely was that he just didn't care, but it was still a staggering level of entitlement. How little must he know Jo, if he ever thought she'd agree to that?

  "Uh," Jo started, obviously a little lost for words. "I'm actually hanging out with Callie now." She waited, but when he didn't say anything, added, "And she's leaving Saturday, so…"

  He kept staring expectantly after she trailed off, so I scrunched my face into something resembling apologetic and added, "Sorry, bro."

  That seemed to help him get it. He glared at me, then held Jo's gaze. "Your mother invited me to dinner, so I'll see you on Sunday, Josey." Jo immediately frowned deeply and glanced away. I would bet anything that Jo was going to get hell from her folks on Sunday now, and I felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn't my fault, but I felt like I just kept making Jo's bad situation worse.

  With that he walked away, but not to sit down. Instead, we watched in amazement as he bundled up his blanket and left.