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CHAPTER ONE.
"begin again"
Staring up at the faded white, paint-chipped siding of the old farmhouse he grew up in, it's as if nothing in his life has changed at all. It appears entirely untouched by time, cross-pane windows baring the same green shutters, a single pole in the porch railing remaining missing from a certain roughhousing incident when he was a young boy. Luke idly wonders if the ceiling in the upstairs bathroom still leaks when it storms.
He wishes more than anything he could say the past eight years had flown by. It hadn't, not in the slightest, for as time would tell, no amount of planning can ever accurately predict where one's life will end up. Whether for better or worse, fate seemingly has a funny way of sculpting things far beyond your control, and it's Luke who learns this the hard way.
He'd painstakingly invested every ounce of hardwork and dedication into a college degree that was perhaps bound to fail him from the start. He'd naively settled all his faith in the assumption that college would be the sure fix to his dilemma about life, the end to his internal struggle of knowing where his rightful place in the world truly was.
The thing about high school? It didn't teach anyone how to make it on their own. And how young, innocent minded students of barely eighteen are expected to know what to do with the rest of their lives, Luke will never know.
Except he isn't eighteen anymore. The past December had marked his twenty-sixth birthday, and he somehow manages to feel even more lost now than he ever has before. He'd desperately tried for the last four years to make it on his own after graduating, yet just as he'd been warned by others with the very same degree, he hadn't been so lucky to be spared from the workforce mercilessly chewing him up and spitting him out.
His parents are absolute lifesavers, and he supposes he should at least feel grateful he has them to fall back on. And he undoubtedly falls hard, flat on his face with what feels like the weight of the world preventing him from ever getting back up again.
Maybe he's just being dramatic. It wouldn't be the first time.
Taking a steadying breath, Luke trudges up the brick steps that lead onto the front porch. The scent of freshly baked bread meets him upon swinging open the creaky screen door, an unmistakable sound that alerts his mother the moment she hears it.
"Lukas? Is that you, darlin'?" he hears from the kitchen, and he follows her voice directly to the source.
Predictably, Elaine Porter stands next to the old fashioned stove, a floral print apron tied around her thin waist, hair done up in a tightly wound bun just as it always is. She isn't a tall woman by any means, and nearing her late sixties, her hair has long since gone grey. Renown for keeping herself pristine, she's every bit as old fashioned as this wholesome Georgian town.
Luke doesn't have time to confirm his arrival before his mother is crossing the room and wordlessly pulling him into her arms. If Luke hugs her back a little more urgently than he intends to, neither speak a word of it.
"I was just home durin' Christmas, Ma," he protests after a moment, though his voice holds no trace of irritance. Elaine knows this all too well.
"Five months never seemed longer," she sighs, rocking him gently in her arms. And truthfully, he supposes he can't quite disagree; not when the last few years have felt like a lifetime.
His mother gives him one final, lingering squeeze before holding him at arm's length. "You look healthy."
Luke snorts lightly, raising a brow. "Huh - s'that your way of sayin' I gained weight?"
It's the truth by any means, and he blames it all on his tendency to stress eat. The excess pounds on his already somewhat stocky form have done nothing to alleviate his troubles.
Elaine simply smiles. "It ain't a bad thing, dear. You got your father's genes."
"Remind me to thank him later, then," Luke mumbles sarcastically, but soon enough, he's smiling, too. Elaine pats him on the cheek before stepping away.
"How're you feelin'?" she asks, trying and failing to hide her concern. "You seem awfully tired."
"I am. The drive was pretty long."
Elaine's mouth presses together slightly, and Luke had already known that hadn't been what she'd meant. He sighs deeply as she opens her mouth to speak again, and beats her to it.
"I'm okay, Ma. You don't have'ta worry about me," he says quickly, with as much believability as he can muster even if his mother will undoubtedly see right through him.
They'd already spoken in immense detail about his situation over the phone. Too much, if he's being honest. Luke can't help feeling that it'll be a good, long while before any kind of normalcy will return to his life again, and talking about it now that nothing can be changed or taken back only seems redundant. He figures his expression unknowingly says it all, for his mother purses her lips, and leaves it at that.
"Well. Supper's not gonna be ready for at least another hour," she muses as she glances at the old grandfather clock in the adjacent dining room. Luke's hand receives a light tap after successfully stealing a fresh bread roll from the counter.
Grinning faintly, he tears off a piece and pops it in his mouth. "Where is Dad, anyway?" he asks as he realizes the time. "I didn't think he worked this late anymore."
His father, Ron, is a once-retired veterinarian who'd gone back into the business a mere six months after his official retirement. A passionate animal lover and friend of the community, he's a hefty man of almost seventy, sporting a large beard and a long, off-white ponytail. Luke is like him in nearly every way.
"He got an emergency call, had to step into the clinic. Said he shouldn't take long," Elaine says as she attends to her cooking once again.
It gives him time to kill, and he knows just the place to do the deed.
"I'm goin' to see the horses. Holler when supper's done, okay?"
Elaine nods without turning, and Luke supposes she could have easily guessed where he'd want to scurry off to without him having to announce it.
The screen door bangs shut behind him as he steps outside onto the front porch, finishing off the bread roll in a few more large bites. The warm, humid air of mid-May clings around him, the sun hanging low in the cloudless sky as familiar sounds of farmlife drift up from the multiple acres of land that stretch out before the house. Luke rolls up the sleeves of his worn grey sweater as he jogs down the front steps, and breathes in the fresh, country air.
Home has always been his salvation, though as the turns off the driveway and rounds down the uneven dirt path that leads to the barn, everything around him appears a little more dismal than he's used to, despite the fact that nothing is out of the ordinary. The birds chirp their usual cheery songs, and the faint noise of a backfiring tractor from the nearby neighbor can be heard to his right, beyond the sparse treeline of tall oak trees that separate the two properties.
Everything is just as it should be, yet Luke feels miserable inside.
He hopes seeing the horses will lift his spirits. A few of them have been around since his late childhood, a special bond created over the years that Luke will forever hold dearly in his heart.
There's bound to be a new face or two, he suspects as the barn comes into view. Atop of his vet clinic duties, his father runs a sort of unofficial rehabilitation business whenever he can find enough free time, using his deep understanding of horses to help owners with a variety of troubled cases. Luke had spent his teenage years helping him whenever he could.
He wishes now more than ever that he would have given up on his college dream and stuck around here instead. It's no secret that father had always desired for him to help grow the sideline business into something more legitimate, and with Luke's particular talent in getting through to horses when no one else could, there's no doubt that he would have done well.
Live and learn, he supposes. Though it certainly doesn't gain him back the years he's lost.
Brushing off the passing thought, Luke manages a smile as he approaches the old two-story barn. It's in dire need of a fresh paint job, the broad wooden walls worn grey and rugged with time. He wonders if the loft is still as cluttered as he remembers, ages since he's ventured up the rickety ladder he's nearly broken his neck on more than once.
There's a motorcycle parked outside he's never seen before, and Luke takes a moment to inspect it more carefully, his curiosity peaked. It's not in the greatest shape, a layer rust overtaking a large portion of the exterior with the edges of some silver duct tape peeling off the handlebars. The seat showcases a single, large gash directly up the middle that's been sloppily sewn together.
His father is a bit of a known collector, although it's antique vehicles that he tends to specialize in. They're littered all over the property in various degrees of deterioration, all of which seem to drive his mother a little crazier each time a conversation about them pops up.
He disregards the discovery for now, eager to get inside the barn and make his routine rounds to each stall. Spending time with the family horses has never failed to relax him, and if the past few months in particular were anything to go by, he's in desperate need for some R&R.
Yet before he can approach a horse, something else catches his eye.
Near the back wall of the building, standing facing away from him in the entrance of the last stall on the left, is someone Luke doesn't recognize. He's holding a rake in one hand, a wheelbarrow next to him as he wipes feebly at the nape of his neck with the other. The backwards baseball cap upon his head looks out of place for the area, as does the dark blue jersey sporting a large number '25' on the back.
It's easy enough for Luke to assume his family has hired on a new ranch hand without his knowledge. He can't imagine someone has broken in with the intent to muck out stalls.
"Um, hello?" Luke calls gently, brows furrowed as he takes a few hesitant steps closer.
His voice rouses the attention of the man, who quickly turns to regard him with a clear look of surprise.
As cliché as it is, Luke can't deny the fact that his breath is nearly taken away the second he meets his eye. The guy fits the age old saying of tall, dark and handsome as if the phrase was made for him, his chiseled jaw dusted with a short, neatly trimmed beard, wispy, sweat-damped hair clinging to his forehead beneath the strap of his hat. His dark skin glistens under the natural daylight that pours in through the opened barn doors, clearly defined muscles barely hiding under the material of his partially unbuttoned jersey.
He flashes Luke a lopsided grin, and Luke swears his heart skips a beat.
"Hi. Are you a client? I'm afraid Ron isn't here right now."
It's at least somewhat comforting that he apparently knows his father by a first-name basis, but then again, so does just about everyone else in the entire state of Georgia. Luke swallows thickly, needing to search to find his voice.
"N-No, I'm - I'm Ron's son," he tells him simply, and curses his own words for faltering.
The man rouses at that, snapping his fingers. "Oh, oh - Luke, right?"
He isn't surprised that his father would have probably told this guy all about him. He always did hold him on somewhat of a pedestal, no matter what he did or where he went. Luke wonders if that remains the same now that he's lost everything he worked so hard to achieve.
"Yeah. That's me," Luke again answers curtly, and in an attempt to lessen his awkwardness, does the exact opposite as he blurts in his next breath, "Who're you?"
The guy only grins wider, propping the rake on the stall door as he closes the distance between them. He haphazardly rubs his hands on already dirt-caked jeans before extending one towards him. Up close, Luke can see a row of freckles skittering along the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones.
"I'm Javier," he says as Luke shakes his hand, his own actions more stiff than he'd like them to be. Javier's skin is rough and impossibly warm. "You can call me Javi, if you want. I've been working for your parents for the last couple of months."
"Well - it's nice t'meet you." Luke speaks slowly, his mouth dry. He feels like a damn teenager all over again, trying to muster up the courage to talk to some pretty girl way out of his league.
Javier is certainly no girl, but he's sure as hell far beyond any league Luke could ever dream of having.
Still, he's obligated to be friendly. It's in his nature. "Is, uh - is that your bike outside?"
Javi visibly perks at that, quickly nodding his head. "You saw my baby, did you? Yeah, she's all mine."
Luke isn't so sure if the rusty old rig is worth being spoken so highly of, but he muses him all the same. "I'll bet Dad fawned all over it the first time he saw it."
"His vehicle collection is totally awesome," Javi grins brightly, and Luke only barely manages to keep himself from staring.
"You'd better not let my mom hear that," Luke finds himself teasing, and breathes more evenly. "She just might have'ta fire you."
Javi chuckles faintly and holds up his hand. "Not a word. I like this job."
His parents are certainly fair people to work for. The first ranch hand Luke could remember had stuck around up until he was fourteen, upon which he'd fallen ill and was forced to retire. Only two more had come and gone since then, the latter a wiley ex-rodeo cowboy in his late forties that Luke had barely gotten the chance to know before he'd sped off to college.
Still, he can't refrain from asking. "Really? I dunno, you just don't seem much like the farmin' type."
An impish smirk works its way onto Javi's face. "No? What gave me away?"
"You got 'city boy' written all over you," Luke says with a spreading grin of his own. Despite regaining some of his composure, his heart still beats a little too quick.
Another chuckle leaves the other, a deep, carefree sound that makes Luke's head feel suddenly warm. "My family lives pretty close, moved down here from Baltimore a couple of years ago. My dad knows- knew your dad."
Luke doesn't miss the way he hastily corrects himself, nor the way his expression turns rather solemn for a fleeting second before his smile returns in full. He doesn't dare question it.
"Baltimore, huh?" Luke prompts instead, and is glad to see Javi's attention redirected. "Your accent makes sense, then."
"My accent? I didn't realize I had one," he says with a hint of genuine curiosity, and Luke can't help but to smile a little wider.
"It's very… northern."
"Well, it's nothing compared to your accent." Luke tenses at the statement, half expecting a crude stereotypical comment to follow until Javi continues. "I like it."
"You do?" he blurts, to which Javi simply nods sincerely. He doesn't have to think to know he'd never been complimented on it before. "Uh - thanks."
Javi seems to hesitate for a moment, opening his mouth to speak before quickly shutting it again. Luke could swear he gives him an almost deliberate onceover before he's clearing his throat and reaching for the rake again. "Anytime."
Luke's not sure what compels him, but he takes a single step forward. "Do you want any help? I know it's your job and all, but-"
"No, no," Javi says in polite dismissal, offering him a kind smile. "Thanks, but I'm just about done here anyway."
Again, Luke speaks before he has a chance to think. "Do you wanna stay for supper?" He kicks himself mentally, hands wringing. "I - I'm sure my folks wouldn't mind."
Javi is clearly appreciative of the offer, and Luke watches as he glances back towards him with a very distinct look of warmth in his eyes. "I'd love to. Except I kind of promised my Mamá I'd help her cook tonight..."
Composure lost in the wind once again, Luke foolishly trips over his reply. "Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that's cool. Sure, no problem."
If Javi notices his floundering, he doesn't address it. He readjusts his cap with a persistent grin before his gaze is locked entirely on Luke again. "How long are you in town for?"
"Uh, probably a long while." And then, out of simple curiosity, "Why?"
Javi shrugs one shoulder, an innocent gesture that doesn't quite match the particular glint in his eye. "Just wanted to know how much I can expect to see you around here."
Luke eyes him somewhat warily, unsure of the intent behind those seemingly casual words. It wouldn't be the first time he's taken something out of context, nor the first time he's gotten far too ahead of himself over nothing at all.
"Well… I guess you'll be seein' me a lot," Luke says slowly, and takes it upon himself to clarify, just in case. "I'll probably be takin' over most of Dad's rehabilitation stuff. Maybe. I haven't really decided yet."
Somewhere, lingering around the back of his mind, a certain something tells him the decision won't be so difficult anymore if he can look forward to seeing this guy on a more regular basis.
"Sounds good," Javi says with a nod. "It'd be nice to have some company around here."
Luke bites his lip around a smile. "Guess I'll see what I can do, then," he says a bit tentatively, and watches Javi's expression closely. He lets out a shallow breath as the other gives him that same crooked grin from before, and returns his own rather queasy version of it.
A brief - an terribly distracted - visit with the horses later as Javi finishes mucking out the last stall, Luke is sure to pause in order to exchange their short goodbyes before making his way back up to the house. Supper is eaten rather quickly, the homestyle meal a pleasant break from fast food and frozen dinners.
He spends the rest of the evening thinking about Javier.
In bed later on into the night, with the lights turned out and the crickets chirping outside his open window, all he can see behind closed eyes is that freckled, infectious smile.
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