Fallow Fields

We wash up side by side at the kitchen sink, me washing, Willa drying. The domesticity of it feels strangely intimate, the shared silence comfortable.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, handing her a clean plate. “For today. I know it wasn’t easy, pretending like that.”

Willa shrugs, setting the dried plate in the cupboard. “It wasn’t all pretending,” she says softly.

I look at her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

She turns to face me, leaning her hip against the counter. “I mean…” She takes a deep breath, like she’s steeling herself. “I mean, the part where I said I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else?” She meets my gaze, her eyes dark and serious. “That was true.”

My breath catches, my heart suddenly pounding. “Willa, I–”

“I like having you here, Immy,” she says, her voice low and intense. “I like… this. Us. Playing house.” She looks away, her cheeks flushing. “I know we said no emotional entanglements, but I… I care about you. I always have.”

I stare at her, my mind reeling. “I care about you too,” I say, the words feeling woefully inadequate. “So much.”

She looks back at me, her eyes searching mine. “Do you ever…” She licks her lips, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like? If we were really together?”

My heart stops. I can’t breathe. “All the time,” I whisper.

The air between us crackles with tension, the unspoken awareness that’s been building between us since that first hug suddenly igniting into something more. Something dangerous.

Willa takes a step closer, her hand coming up to rest on my waist. “Immy–” she starts, but I don’t let her finish.

I close the distance between us, my lips meeting hers in a kiss that’s tentative at first, then deepens into something more urgent. She makes a soft sound against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

We stumble backwards until I’m pressed against the counter, Willa’s body warm and solid against mine. The kiss goes on and on, a slow, deep exploration that leaves me breathless and wanting.

When we finally break apart, we’re both panting, our foreheads pressed together, our bodies still intertwined.

“Wow,” I breathe. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Willa agrees, her voice husky. She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine. “Immy, I–”

“Don’t.” I press a finger to her lips, shaking my head. “Don’t say anything. Let’s just… let’s just see where this goes. Okay?”

She hesitates for a moment, then nods, her lips tipping up into a small smile. “Okay.”

We finish the dishes in a comfortable silence, the earlier tension replaced by a new, fragile understanding. As we head up the stairs to our separate rooms, Willa pauses outside my door.

“Good night, Immy,” she says softly, her hand coming up to brush my cheek.

I lean into her touch, my eyes fluttering closed. “Good night, Doc.”

I watch her disappear into her room, my fingers coming up to touch my still-tingling lips. For the first time since this whole crazy arrangement began, the future doesn’t look quite so scary.

The first fat raindrops hit the roof just as I’m drifting off, a slow, steady patter that’s almost soothing. I snuggle deeper under the covers, letting the sound lull me toward sleep.

I’m jolted awake what feels like seconds later by a crash of thunder so loud it rattles the windows. I bolt upright, my heart pounding, just as another flash of lightning illuminates the room, followed by another ear-splitting crack.

The storm is right on top of us.

I scramble out of bed, yanking on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt over my pajamas. I can hear the wind howling outside, the rain lashing against the side of the house like handfuls of gravel.

I find Willa already downstairs, shrugging into her raincoat. Her face is tense, her mouth set in a grim line.

“We need to check the barn,” she says without preamble. “Make sure the horses are okay. This wind is insane.”

I nod, grabbing my own coat from the hook by the door and pulling on my mud boots. “What about the cattle?”

Willa shakes her head. “They’ll have to ride it out. We don’t have time to get to them all. But the horses are in the barn, and that big oak out back has been looking sketchy. If it comes down…”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I know exactly what could happen if that tree falls on the barn. I’ve seen the aftermath of enough storms growing up to know the damage they can do.

We head out into the tempest, heads down against the driving rain. The wind is so strong it almost knocks me off my feet, and I have to grab onto Willa’s arm to steady myself.

The barn is only a hundred yards from the house, but it feels like miles. We’re soaked to the skin by the time we stumble inside, the relative warmth and quiet of the barn a welcome relief.

The horses are agitated, whinnying and stamping in their stalls. Willa moves down the aisle, speaking softly to each one as she checks their stalls for any signs of damage.

“Okay, everybody’s okay,” she calls over the sound of the rain drumming on the roof. “But that wind is really worrying me. I think we should stay down here until it passes. Just in case.”

I nod, moving to help her secure the doors. “Good idea.”

We hunker down in the center aisle, sitting on bales of hay with our backs against the wall. The horses are still restless, but they seem to calm some with us there.

We sit in silence for a while, listening to the storm rage outside. I can feel the tension in Willa’s body, her nerves strung tight as a wire.

“It’ll be okay,” I murmur, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “We’ve been through worse.”

She squeezes back but doesn’t look at me. “I know. I just… I hate feeling so helpless.”

I understand exactly what she means. The storm is a stark reminder of just how much of our lives are out of our control. How much we have to lose.

Another crack of thunder shakes the barn, and I jump, my heart leaping into my throat. Without thinking, I find myself moving closer to Willa, seeking out her warmth and solidity.

She turns to me, her face pale in the dim light. Her eyes are wide, her breath coming fast. “Immy,” she whispers.

I don’t know who moves first. One moment we’re sitting side by side, the next we’re in each other’s arms, our lips crashing together in a desperate, hungry kiss.

It’s not like the kiss in the kitchen. There’s no tentativeness, no hesitation. This is pure, primal need, a desperate attempt to drown out the fear and uncertainty with the force of our connection.

We kiss like we’re drowning, like we’ll never come up for air. Willa’s hands are everywhere, tangling in my hair, sliding under my shirt, pulling me closer.

I match her intensity, my own hands roaming over her body, mapping her curves and angles. I can feel the heat of her skin through the damp fabric of her clothes, the race of her heartbeat against my palms.

We’re brought back to reality by a sudden, violent gust of wind that rattles the whole barn. We break apart, gasping, staring at each other with wide, shocked eyes.

“Wow,” Willa breathes, her voice shaky. “That was…”

“Yeah,” I agree, my own voice just as unsteady.

We sit there for a long moment, neither of us moving, neither of us speaking. The air between us is thick with unspoken tension, the weight of what just happened hanging heavy over us.

Finally, Willa clears her throat, looking away. “We should… we should check on the horses again,” she mumbles, pushing herself to her feet.

I nod, feeling a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the storm outside. “Right. Good idea.”

We go through the motions of checking the stalls, but the easy camaraderie we had before is gone, replaced by an awkward, charged silence.

By the time the storm finally passes, the tension between us has reached a breaking point. We head back to the house without speaking, the space between us on the porch swing feeling wider than ever.

The next few weeks are a special kind of hell. We move through the house like ghosts, orbiting each other but never touching. The kiss hangs between us like a live wire, humming with unspoken tension.

I bury myself in ranch work, attacking the endless list of repairs and improvements with single-minded focus. I fix fences until my hands are blistered and bleeding, muck stalls until my back is screaming, do anything and everything to avoid being in the house with Willa.