Julian

This was one decrepit fucking rooster.

Hardly had any feathers. Wasn’t sure a bird could have a club foot, but something made him limp. He was scrawny, ornery, and cawing on my damn porch at three-thirty in afternoon.

The question was why.

The old man who dropped him off had no answers.

Not sure how the man or the truck made it up the driveway. A thick layer of dust coated them both, but the old man didn’t seem to mind. He gnawed on the end of a cigarette he hadn’t lit and didn’t say a damn word, just stared me in the eye, opened the cage, and released his cock.

“What…” I had no idea what to say to a stranger delivering not only an unwanted animal to my farm, but also the worst example of rooster to cross this side of the road. “What the hell are you doing?”

The farmer spat, tipped his hat, and returned to his truck. “The others are coming later.”

The hell did that mean? “What others?”

The rooster crowed again. I swore, shooing him away with my foot. The idiot didn’t move, just let me swat him in the chest.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

It was the middle of the day.

Cock-a-doodle-dooooo!

What was wrong with him?

Cock-a-doodle—

“Is he blind?” I shouted at the farmer as he escaped into his truck. “Why is he blind?”

“He does all right,” the man said. “Does his job. Just does it at the wrong time.”

That made even less sense. “Why is he here?”

“He’s for the farm.”

I had no fucking idea what was going on, but this was the exact sort of prank Quint would pull. I seethed, gripping the railing.

“You better get your ass over here and grab this rooster,” I said. “I’m not going to have a farm in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be back with the others.”

The old man pulled away with a wave as he backed down the driveway.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Jesus. I rubbed my face. The rooster pecked around the porch before shuffling into a railing. He squawked, ruffled his feathers, took a step, then smacked into the same post again.

Great. Now I had three animals to handle before selling the property. A chicken who didn’t lay eggs, a three-legged goat, and a blind rooster who was one mirepoix away from coq au vin.

I’d deal with them after. It’d taken a goddamned miracle to get my family in one spot at the same time for this. Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make it any easier.

Or hurt any less.

But I was a man accustomed to pain. An ache in my back and the pain in my ass. Selling the farm alleviated one of the problems. Too bad it complicated everything else.

The door clattered shut behind me. I whistled between two fingers, drawing the family out of their corners of misery and to the dining room table. They took their seats, leaving Dad’s chair empty. Probably the first time we’d all sat down together since before he’d died. Figured that this would be the last time we’d have the opportunity.

I tossed the papers onto the table. No words. No explanation. No need to say a damn thing.

“Sign it,” I said. “All of you.”

Cassi didn’t move, sharing a questioning glance with Tidus. For the first time since Dad’s death, she wasn’t living out of a suitcase, threatening to escape our constant fighting with packed bags and intentions to flee to Ironfield. Her boyfriend, Rem, was a good influence on her, but it wasn’t just him changing her heart. She’d wanted the family to survive too. The farm. The possibility that maybe, one day, we’d find a way to make it work.

So, I didn’t look at her. Just rolled the pen across the table.

“What’s this?” Varius was the first to reach for the papers.

Marius didn’t need to read the fine print. Writing was on the wall. “What the hell are you doing, Jules?”

The only thing I could do. Only thing that seemed right anymore. Only thing that would put me out of my misery and end this ridiculous obsession with a dying dream.

Quint scowled, rubbing the hangover from his temples. Surprised he’d made it to the table. I was more surprised he wasn’t passed out under it. The carnies partied harder than he’d anticipated. His ass was dropped off on the porch only an hour before the rooster.

“Can we not…talk?” He blindly reached for the pen. “What am I signing?”

Cassi’s voice wavered. “You’re selling the farm.”

The silence punished me.

Their stares gnawed through me.

And the finality of it all would have broken my heart if Micah hadn’t destroyed it first.

“Yeah.” I tapped the table. “We’re selling. Got a good price. Sign it.”

It’d been years since the dining room got this goddamned quiet. No yelling. No fights. No laughing. No talking. No Dad sitting at his chair, complaining about the weather or feed prices. A stark, miserable silence deadened the little life remaining in the home I’d tried so hard to revive.

“Sign the damn papers,” I said. “And let’s get on with our lives.”

Cassi’s lip trembled. She stared at me, her chocolate eyes wide. “But…why?”

I’d expected it from her. The resistance. The hesitation. I’d fully anticipated my baby sister to rage at me, hold me in an utter contempt, and quietly resent me for the rest of her life.

But that didn’t mean I was stupid enough to cling to the farm when life and circumstance and Micah had prevented my idyllic future.

“Why not sell?” My words even tasted bitter. “Come on, Cassi. Does it look like we’re farmers?”

Varius read the documents with a frown. “We’re in a farmhouse. We’re living on a farm.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We’re living in a farmhouse that’s falling apart around us—holes in the walls and the roof. A failing hot water tank. A rotten porch. And yeah, it’s on a farm. With no crops. No barn. No animals.”

The damn rooster picked that time to crow. Tidus frowned.

“What the hell was that?” he asked.

I still wasn’t sure. “A rooster. I think.”

“You got a rooster?”

“No, I got a reverse hostage situation. It doesn’t matter. The rooster is going back where he came from. Clyde too. Helena…who knows. There’s a bottle of hot sauce in the fridge waiting for her.”

Quint clicked the pen, but he didn’t put his name on the paper. “I don’t get it. You’ve been obsessed with the farm for the last couple months. Why are you selling now?”

Shouldn’t have let the rage do the talking, but at least I bit back most of the profanity. “You really think this farm can succeed? You really think that we can magically restore it to how it was? It takes more than just my sweat, a couple acres of land, and some seeds to turn a profit. It’s not going to happen.”

Marius tried to hide his wince and adjusted in the chair. Left his cane in the living room so he could act tough. He forced himself to stand.

“We’ve been telling you that for months,” he said. “Why the hell are you believing us now?”

“Because the farm meant something to me then, and now it’s just a pile of dirt. I’m tired of looking at it.”

The stunned, bewildered silence didn’t make this any easier.

“You’ve never given up before,” Tidus said. He hid the disappointment well. Or was it resentment? He’d done enough damage to the farm. I thought he’d be thrilled. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You busted your ass during this fair.” Cassi agreed with Tidus. “You did everything you could. Hardly slept. Got attacked by cats. Baked a ridiculous amount of pies. And now you’re just…giving up? What about the barn?”

“What about it?” I asked. “Didn’t like the conditions attached to it.”

“What conditions?”

Heartache. I ignored the question. “What good does a barn do us? I can’t manage the farm by myself. I can’t get it functional without help, and none of you want to bother with the restoration. If you don’t think we can work together to make this farm a success—to fix this goddamned family—then what the hell is the point?”

Quint frowned. “The point is that you wanted the farm.”

“I didn’t want the fucking farm.” The lie hurt, but I’d gone numb to the pain. Easier to sell and rid myself of the memories than wallow in misery and jerk myself off to bullshit hypotheticals and false hope. “I wanted us. I wanted to fix this. To heal this fucking family.”

Cassi reached for me, but I didn’t take her hand. “Jules, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Another lie, but I was getting good at it. “It just took me this long to realize what you all knew months ago. We’d actually have to make an effort to resolve this bullshit. And I can tell you now…it’s not going to happen.”

Quint squinted through the hangover. “So, you fucked with the fair for nothing?”

“Not for nothing…” Marius said. “For someone.”

Tidus laughed. “No more booty calls from Micah Robinson?”

Cassi gasped, covering her mouth. “You didn’t.”

Great. Now my baby sister knew I’d been fucking around. Not like the pregnancy wouldn’t have revealed more than I’d wanted her to know.

A hard pounding on the door distracted my siblings. Good thing too. I wasn’t talking about Micah. What was there to say? I’d been the one-night stand that gave her nine-months of problems. It wasn’t the first time I’d judged my worth by my cock. Wouldn’t be the last.

Quint peeked out the dining room window with a frown. “Jules, you’re selling the farm, right?”

I headed to the door. “Yeah.”

“What are you going to do with the pig?”

I swung the door open. The old farmer had returned, using a thin cane to unload more animals from a beat-up metal trailer that couldn’t have been comfortable for the wretched looking critter he herded down the ramp.

“What the hell are you doing?” I jogged to the trailer, avoiding the rooster who still hadn’t found a path off the goddamned porch. “Stop!”

The pig trotted down the ramp first, all seventy-some pounds of potbellied mess. The old man shouted, attempting to shoo her from the bottom of the metal platform. The pig didn’t move until he swatted her speckled black-and-pink backside.

The pig squealed and scampered off.

“Deaf.” The farmer grabbed a rope dangling inside the trailer and gave it a yank. “Can’t hear a thing you say. Just toss a bit of corn at Bonnie when you feed her. She’ll come running.”

My family stayed on the porch, though Cassi got one look at the pig and came bursting to meet her. She slid into the grass and clapped her thighs, but the pig kept on walking, plunked her ass in the shade, and settled onto my farm as if she’d been there her entire life.

“Look…” My words hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing—”

The farmer yanked on the rope. The hard thud of hooves followed. And from the shadows of the trailer stepped the ugliest goddamned creature I’d ever seen in my life.

Or nightmares.

The animal stood six feet tall, from the hoof to the tips of its ears. It had bucked teeth, skin as leathery and thin as a bat, and it spat at the farmer.

“Jesus Christ!” Quint armed himself with a wicker chair. “The fuck is that?”

Even Cassi plunked backwards, falling on her butt and scooting away from the bizarrely hairless, unnervingly pale creature.

“This here is Alicia,” the farmer said.

I didn’t care what the hell her name was. I just wanted off the farm before she consumed my soul.

The farmer tugged the rope. “Alicia’s an alpaca.”

“Kill it with fire!” Quint yelled.

Varius shushed him. “Still one of God’s creatures…I think. I better check Revelations.”

Tidus grunted. “It’s a sign of the end times.”

“Why does it look like a walking testicle?” Marius asked the important questions.

The farmer handed me her rope. “She’s got alopecia. Means her hair doesn’t grow.”

That was great. What the hell was she doing on my property?

“Do…” Tidus braved a step towards the creature. “Do we get it Rogaine?”

“No.” I dropped the rope. “No, we don’t do a damn thing. I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you can’t just dump your animals on my farm.”

“They’re your animals,” the farmer said. “I’m just transport.”

I turned to Quint. “What the hell did you do with those carnies? Why is their freak show strutting around our front yard?”

Quint shook his head. “Wasn’t me! We just drank!”

“This is for you.” The farmer retrieved a stack of papers from his truck. He tapped the forms before closing the trailer and slipping into the driver’s seat. “Paperwork for the animals is all there. Application for the sanctuary is filled out.”

“Sanctuary?”

“Doing a good thing—giving these guys a home.”

“I’m not—”

“Should have no problem getting the barn now.”

The truck started and scared the shit out of the alpaca. She charged towards the porch. Quint panicked and armed himself with the only weapon he had available.

Marius’s leg.

My brother went down. Tidus crashed too. Cassi chased the pig. Quint bolted inside. Varius frowned as I read over the paperwork.

“What is it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Something for an animal sanctuary. State forms.”

All filled out.

All neatly organized with vaccination reports and animal registrations.

All signed with my forged signature.

A post-it flapped on top. The scribbled writing seized my heart.

They can’t deny an animal sanctuary.

Don’t give up on the farm. They need you.

Micah

Son of a bitch.

I stormed to the porch. Cassi followed, taking the folder and scanning the pages. She squealed, preventing me from grabbing my phone and ending this charade once and for all.

“It’s from Micah!” Cassi stared at me. “She saved the farm!”

“She didn’t save the farm,” I said. “I don’t think a deaf pig, blind rooster, and a creepy, discount llama are going to help me plant any crops.”

Marius had pummeled Quint and left the kid with a black eye. Now it felt like home again.

He pointed his fake foot at me. “First you fuck her. Then you break your back to help. Now she’s saving the farm. What the hell happened?”

Cassi grinned. “He’s in love with her!”

I wasn’t talking about this. “It’s complicated. And it doesn’t matter. Sign the damn sales agreement.”

“You love her, and you let her move to Ironfield?” Cassi asked. “What happened?”

“It’s not important.”

“Of course it is!” She pointed outside. “Look at what she did for you! She just gave you a perfect excuse to build the barn. She’s saved you!”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Call her.”

“No.”

“You have to talk to her.”

I clenched my jaw. “Let it go, Cas.”

“You’re in love with her! Why aren’t you doing everything you can to be with her?”

“Because she’s fucking pregnant!” The words even shocked me. “She’s pregnant.”

And there it was.

Simple and complicated. Wonderful and terrifying. A blessing and…

It’d never be a curse.

My brothers stared at me, but Cassi grabbed my arm, holding tight. A smile teased at her lips. Somehow, I knew she’d be happy.

“Holy shit…” Marius’s voice was low, somber. He met my gaze and nodded. “Congratulations.”

Not what I’d expected from him.

“You knocked her up?” Tidus swore. Exactly what I’d expected from him.

Varius patted my shoulder—first time he’d offered anyone comfort in years. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t think anyone had to know.”

Quint laughed. “Yeah, we wouldn’t notice when the stork dropped a kid in the living room.”

“We broke up.”

They quieted. Wished the thoughts swirling in my head would silence too.

“Micah doesn’t want a relationship,” I said. “Says we’d only be together because of the baby. So, she broke it off. Got the job in Ironfield because she doesn’t want to rely on me. She thinks she’s better off alone.”

Cassi bit her lip. “Aren’t you going to fight her?”

s“Why do you think I’m selling the goddamned farm?” I said. “I’m going to Ironfield too.”

My sister gasped. “What?”

“I’m not letting her raise my child without me.” I shook my head. “Hell no. That’s my baby. That’s the next generation of Paynes. She says she can do it on her own? Fine. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be there every fucking step of the way taking care of my son or daughter…” The words hardened. “Taking care of her.”

I didn’t expect them to understand. I didn’t think I’d understand. Why I was still fighting her. What I expected when I’d get there. How I’d convince Micah to let me in her life.

How I’d prove to her that we belonged together.

I needed that woman. I needed our baby.

And I needed us together.

“The farm means more to me than to you guys,” I said. “I get it. It’s more than a home to me. It’s a responsibility. And I should have been here to take care of it long ago, but I fucked up. I lost time with Dad. I let the family fall apart. I let you all down.”

Cassi shook her head. “Jules, you did everything you could.”

No. Not yet. “I didn’t do enough. I wanted to make this farm something for all of us. Wanted to restore it to what it was for the family—so when we had kids, they’d have what we had growing up. The hard work. The sacrifice. And the warmth. That sense of belonging. A place they’d one day work and tend and grow for their children.” The thought killed me. “All I wanted was a chance to look outside and see my kid running around the fields...”

Cassi capped the pen and dared anyone to stop her. She handed it to me, papers unsigned.

“You’re gonna have that, Jules,” she said.

I shook my head. “No. I made this family sacrifice enough for me long ago. All the money and time and support—and I ruined my chances with the Rivets. So, I’m done. I’m not going to drag you through another one of my dreams. I want the farm—but I want us to be happy. There’s been enough resentment. Just sign the papers. Ignore the alpaca. Take the money.”

My brothers stayed silent. I tossed the pen onto the table, stomach clenching as it rolled towards the edge.

I couldn’t watch this.

I turned as Tidus took the pen, but he stuck it in his pocket.

“Can’t believe I’m gonna say this,” he said. “But no.”

Jesus Christ. I held his stare. “No?”

“No,” he said again.

Quint and Varius agreed. “No.”

Marius did the honors—ripping the papers in half.

“What the hell are you doing?” The rage shadowed my voice. “Take the fucking money!”

“We don’t like each other,” Marius said. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not a family.”

Cassi batted his arm. “What he’s supposed to say is that we love each other.”

Varius folded his hands. “Every family has problems—every person has doubts. The beauty of a home is that, together, we should mend those doubts and insecurities and pains and frustrations...” He met my gaze. “Especially for the sake of a child.”

Quint grinned. “I get to be an uncle.”

Tidus clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Should have told us you were gonna be a daddy.”

Cassi crossed her arms. “Yes! Why the hell would you keep that from us? I’m gonna hold a grudge until I hold that baby!”

I pulled out a chair and collapsed. “Micah’s idea. Wait until after the fair.”

“Well, the fair’s over,” Marius said. “What now?”

Good question.

“I thought selling the farm was the only option we had,” I said. “It seemed like the right decision.”

“Not anymore,” Cassi said. “Not now that there’s a baby. We can ruin our own lives, but…” She glanced at our brothers. “We can’t keep hating each other now that there’s a baby on the way.”

“Mom would kill us,” Quint murmured. “Imagine how excited she’d be?”

Tidus frowned. “You kidding? It’s Julian’s kid. Imagine Dad’s reaction.”

Marius shrugged. “Mom and Dad would have wanted any grandchildren, no matter who popped them out.”

Varius smirked. “Except Cassi. Remember that talk?”

Cassi covered her eyes. “Oh God. They were so sure Rem would get me pregnant. All the talks and the pamphlets, and you!” She pointed at Varius. “You and the Youth Group sermons! Embarrassed the hell out of me.”

“Yeah…” Varius smiled for the first time in days. “Did that on purpose.”

“Well, jokes on all of you. I didn’t even sleep with Rem until a couple months ago…” Cassi hesitated as my brothers and I tensed and swore. “But…this is about Julian having unsafe sex. Everyone scold him.”

“No one needs to scold me,” I said. “I’m gonna do everything I can for the baby.”

“Does that include the farm?” Quint asked.

I thumbed through the sanctuary paperwork. For as much as she’d wanted to help, for as weird as the damn alpaca was, seven little words were scrawled across the top of the application.

Pending Approval By The Zoning Hearing Board

I needed a variance, and the municipality still wanted their developments.

“Micah was my only ally on this,” I said. “And I had to knock her up to get her to help me. Not looking forward to fucking the five men on the board who can grant the approval.”

“You don’t think they’ll approve it?” Marius asked.

“You worked the fair,” Quint said. “Doesn’t that count?”

“Not sure I want to admit to organizing that disaster,” I said. “The people are still pissed they didn’t get their fireworks.”

Tidus shrugged. “Pretty sure I have some bottle rockets in the basement from when I was a kid.”

Cassi frowned. “When you were a kid?”

He shrugged. “Or…last week, when Rem and I set them off in the backyard for his nieces.”

And that was it.

The idea was simple, brilliant, and foolproof.

I stood, casting the chair backwards. “Tidus, you’re a goddamned genius.”

No one believed that, least of all him. “What?”

“The bottle rockets.” I grinned. “The fireworks. Butterpond never got their fireworks. Micah never got her fireworks. But we can give it to them. Right here.”

“Where?” Cassi asked.

“In the empty back field. Right where Desmond and the council wants to build their damn development.” I grinned. “We throw a party. Invite the town. Show Butterpond what Triumph Farms means to us, and what it can do for the community.”

My sister nodded. “What about Micah?”

The fireworks were everything. A way to prove to her what I could offer. What our life could be…together.

Maybe a baby wasn’t a family.

And a barn wasn’t a farm.

But a broken heart?

That didn’t have to be the end.