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Life in Texas moves at a different pace. They had visited enough times over the years that Henry assumed he knew what it would be like to live there, but he could have never really understood how his day-to-day life would change until they moved. Stepping away from the hustle and bustle of New York had been good for them, but he couldn’t help but miss it sometimes. Henry had never been so isolated before, so far removed from friends and family, and though they were always just a FaceTime away it wasn’t the same as Pez crawling into his bed after a late night out, or Bea flying in on a day’s notice because June couldn’t stop talking about a new designer at NY Fashion Week. He has Alex, of course—as long as they were together, he’s pretty sure he could live anywhere in the world—but Alex has his own slightly too-long commute to Austin almost every day for a new job that demands a lot of his attention, which means Henry spends a large amount of time alone on their sprawling ranch outside the city.
There are things he loves about living in Texas, though. The unending blanket of stars in night sky. The easy weekend evenings sitting by the lake. Writing in his study with only the sounds of nature as his background. The feeling like he can just breathe without a thousand things that need his attention. And this: the landscape around him, scrub and rocks and rolling hills painted in purples and oranges by the rising sun. The quiet stillness of the early morning, before the oppressive heat has laid in, broken only by the songs of the birds, the creak of leather, and Jane’s soft snorts under him.
Henry had adopted the chestnut Quarter Horse mare a few months after they moved, once they’d fixed up the barn on the property and made it habitable. That had never really been part of the plan when they bought this place, but the barn was right there, and the lure of having horses around was just too irresistible. He’d seen Jane at rescue in Austin they’d visited as part of a goodwill tour of local charities shortly after moving there and fallen in love at first sight. Deemed too flighty for rodeo or working a ranch, she’d been more or less abandoned when the rescue found her. Still, she was a beautiful horse, sturdy and sound, with a deep reddish-brown coat and a large white blaze tracking down her nose. She might have been adopted earlier if not for the fact that she came as a package deal with an ornery donkey, who she loves with a devotion that most people daren’t dream of.
Alex had given him no end of grief about the name, of course, but Henry wouldn’t be swayed; anyway, he wasn’t going to name a horse Austen, especially not living where they do. In retaliation, Henry had threatened to name the donkey Alex, but in the end it was Alex himself who had accidentally bestowed the name that stuck: Oscar, which he insisted was after a Sesame Street character and not his own father. Alex and Oscar (the donkey) have an understanding that even Henry does not quite fathom, something that grew out of their shared obstinacy perhaps, made even more surprising by Alex’s general mistrust of hoofed animals.
(Alex and Jane, on the other hand, have no understanding at all; or rather, they understand that Jane will try to nibble on him—particularly his hair—if he comes near, and so Alex tries to stay as far away her as possible at all times.
“Why’d you have to choose a horse with a taste for human flesh?” Alex had huffed, not long after Jane and Oscar had joined them.
“Just Alex-flesh, it seems,” Henry had returned, trying not to laugh as Jane stretched out toward Alex over the stall door as they stood in the barn aisle. “And who could blame her? That cinnamon-apple shampoo you use can’t be helping.”
“I’m not changing the one shampoo that works with my hair because of a goddamned horse.”
Jane huffed a snort of her own and tossed her head, so Henry had offered her an apple treat from his pocket and a pat on the neck. She’d shown her thanks by rubbing her face hard against his chest, then set about trying to go after Alex again, who’d drawn closer merely because Henry had. Velvety lips brushed Alex’s chambray sleeve, and he jumped back with a curse.
“Aw, c’mon love. She likes you.”
“I’m sorry, babe, but the feeling is not mutual.”)
Jane had given him a much needed new project to work on (besides perfecting his baked goods, of course), and though her training had been slow going Henry loved every minute of it. Eventually, he’d started taking her out on trail rides around the farmhouse, venturing further and further out each time as her nervousness about being separated from Oscar waned. Now they spend most of their mornings exploring the remote areas of the wildlife refuge that the property backs onto, taking in some of the delightful natural splendour.
This morning, as Jane ambles down a dried-up wash, Henry composes poetry in his head that he has no hope of remembering. He still carries a notebook and pencil with him, but he’s long since given up on trying to write them down; there’s something about them—ephemerally perfect in precisely these moments alone—that defies being committed to paper. They pause at a stream when they reach the bottom of the small canyon, Jane dipping her head to drink as Henry watches a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher swoop through the air to catch bugs, its long tail feathers fluttering like the streamers outside of Westminster on their public wedding day.
The memory makes him smile as he rubs his wedding ring with a thumb now roughly calloused from daily barn chores and work around the ranch. It had been a bit of a circus, but it was their circus, and he would never tire of getting letters from queer kids about how much it had meant to see their love celebrated like that. A true fairy tale, with carriages and ceremony and a delicate diamond tiara nestled in Alex’s curls. If only all those people who’d watched all the glitz and glamour could see him now: beat up jeans, horse shit on his boots, pale skin darkly freckled from days spent in the sun, dirt almost permanently staining the creases of his hands. It’s almost enough to want to say yes to one of the near-constant requests for a feature on their life here (no—it’s not nearly enough, but it is amusing to think about).
The sun climbs higher, cooking the landscape until the heat shimmer rising off the rocks renders the horizon into blurry, impressionistic waves, and Henry turns Jane back toward well-trodden paths home. The coming heat has sent most of the mammals they might encounter to the cool safety of their burrows and warrens, but not, apparently, all of them. A little ways down the trail, a rabbit bursts out of a bush less than half a meter from Jane’s hooves, and even though she’s mellowed considerably, that is definitely far too much of a surprise to bear. Henry is a good horseman and well familiar with her habits by now; he keeps his seat easily as she rears and shies to the side, but coming down is another story altogether. Jane must land awkwardly on a rock or in a hole, because she stumbles to her knee, and that is the thing that sends Henry flying arse over teakettle out of the saddle.
The Texas landscape is more unforgiving than a polo field, and he lands hard among the rocks and cacti next to the trail. It’s far from his first fall out here, but this one knocks the breath out of him for a moment, not to mention the shooting pain as his left wrist twists when he hits the ground. With a groan, he rolls over on to his back, no-doubt-sprained-wrist cradled against his chest, and takes a few minutes to catch his breath again. It’s fine, he’s fine, no major harm done. Christ, but he’s going to be sore tomorrow, and he realizes, a little ruefully, that there’s no way he’s going to be able to hide it from Alex, who already worries too much about his solo rides.
Henry’s not sure how long he lies there before bristly lips nudge along the side of his head and hot horse-breath gets blown in his face. He can’t help but smile as he cracks an eye to look up at Jane, who carefully bumps him again with her nose then starts nibbling on his collar when he doesn’t immediately rise.
“Yes yes, I’m alive,” he huffs as he reaches out with his good arm to rub her velvet-soft nose. “I do appreciate the concern, milady. And how did you fare?”
When he turns his head to look at her front legs, he sees what he feared: a sizable gash across her right knee where she’d fallen. Nothing too bad, in the grand scheme of things, but definitely in need of some care. Once he’s managed to haul himself into a sitting position, he tugs the bandana from around his neck—always travel with one for its versatility, the advice out here went—and folds it over once before looping it around Jane’s wound. It’s not the easiest thing to do with the pain shooting through his wrist, but he gets it secure enough so it won’t fall off, and it should staunch the bleeding that has already slowed.
“That’ll have to do until we get back,” he tells her.
She stamps her food at the new sensation of the makeshift bandage, but doesn’t appear to be favoring the leg at all, nor does she flinch away from his touch when he rubs his hand firmly up and down her shin to check for sensitive spots. Henry, on the other hand, could really use some assistance, so he somehow hauls himself back into the saddle and urges Jane forward, knowing she doesn’t need his guidance to find the way home.
David greets them from the porch as Henry rides by the house with a lazy chuff and a wagging tail, and Oscar brays his own welcome when they come into sight of the pasture next to the barn. Most of Henry’s pain has subsided into a dull throb by now, enough that he can more or less ignore it as he takes care of Jane. By the time he’s hosed her off, done up a proper bandage, and wiped down his tack—all done half speed, at the absolute quickest—the day is already getting late and his energy is decidedly flagging. It’s all he can do to somewhat awkwardly wrap his own wrist in a compression bandage before he flops onto the sofa with a bag of frozen corn.
It’s like this that Alex finds him, several hours later.
“H. Hey, baby. Henry,” he says, with increasing urgency, as he gently shakes Henry’s shoulder.
Fortunately it’s his right side, but Henry groans at the jostling anyway as he blinks sleep from his eyes. How on earth he manage to sleep that long in the middle of the day, he has no idea. He turns his head to take in Alex’s worried expression before he notices the time on the wall clock behind him.
“What are you doing home, love?” he asks, his voice raspy with sleep. “Shouldn’t you still be at work?”
“Yeah, well you weren’t responding to texts, or phone calls, and I started freaking out. For good reason, it seems,” Alex huffs. His eyes track over Henry’s face before dropping down to where his wrist is cradled in a probably disgusting bag of now-thawed corn, which has left a dark patch of condensation on the sofa under it.
“It’s nothing,” Henry insists, though the difficulty with which he attempts to sit up belies that statement. His entire left side aches. “I just took a small tumble. Sprained my wrist.”
“You sure about that?”
Alex’s skepticism makes Henry look again, and Christ, his hand is swollen. “Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “I’m sure it’s fine. Probably just irritated it when I was taking care of Jane.” Which— that reminds him that he’d only planned on lying down for a short while, and all the things he’d still left undone. “Oh, bugger, I meant to call the vet to come check her knee.”
Alex can’t seem to make up his mind whether he wants to help Henry up or insist he stay on the couch, but in the end he offers Henry a hand as he gets to his feet, frowning when he can’t hold back a wince.
“Jesus, Henry, you need to see a doctor. Have you even looked at yourself?”
Without waiting for an answer, Alex gently but firmly steers him out of the living room to the ground floor bathroom, and when Henry looks in the mirror he has to admit he’s in quite a state. His clothes are filthy, and there are smudges of dirt all along one side of his face, along with an already-scabbed abrasion on his cheekbone that he doesn’t remember getting. Alex meets his eyes in the mirror with one hell of an unamused look, then sets about unbuttoning Henry’s shirt.
“Alex, love, I don’t really think I’m up for—”
“Hush, you,” Alex cuts him off with a hard glare. “If you think my first response to coming home to find my husband looking like he’s been dragged through a fucking ravine is to jump into bed, I don’t know what to tell you. We’re getting you cleaned up and we’re going to the fucking hospital.”
With a bit of a start, Henry finally realizes that Alex is pissed off. It’s been a while since Alex was truly upset with him, and he certainly hadn’t expected it now. Besides the wrist—which is actually kind of throbbing, if he’s honest—he’s really not even that badly injured, but arguing that point seems to be unwise at the moment, so he keeps his mouth shut and lets Alex peel back his shirt with an aching gentleness that is somewhat at odds with the tense set of his shoulders and the hard line of his mouth. Alex’s stony expression is not improved when the shirt finally slips off to reveal a series of mottled bruises blooming along his left side.
“I promise, there’s no need for a fuss, it looks much worse than it feels—” Henry tries.
This time, Alex doesn’t even have to speak to shut him up.
It’s actually kind of disconcerting, how silent Alex is as he drives them to a hospital. Henry can’t remember the last time they sat in each other’s presence for this long without speaking. The last time they went to the symphony, perhaps, but even then Alex couldn’t resist muttering things to him under his breath (at least they had a private box). He doesn’t really know what to say to make it better, if there’s anything he could say, or whether it’s best to just let things cool down a bit, so in the end he just stays silent and listens to Nina Simone sing about feeling good as Alex’s phone picks up where it left off on his ‘coming home’ playlist.
Alex, like Henry, generally hates dropping his name to get special treatment in any situation, but apparently he’s not above doing so in a busy A&E. The nurse’s eyes go slightly wide when she looks at Henry and realizes who the disheveled man lurking under a ratty Longhorns baseball cap actually is, but he’s shown to a private room immediately instead of being made to wait with the masses in the lobby. This, of course, just makes Henry feel guilty, because there are certainly people here in more dire need of care than he is.
“They’re awfully busy,” Henry says eventually, eyeing Alex cautiously where he sits next to him on the hard plastic chairs, “and while I agree my wrist does need looking at, it’s probably not critical. I could just make an appointment.”
“We’re already here, babe,” Alex replies, half a sigh, the fight seemingly draining out of him. He reaches out for Henry’s good hand, and weaves their fingers together, leaving their hands linked and resting on his knee. “Just let me be here for you. It’s the least I can do.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Alex grinds out unwillingly, even though once he gets started it doesn’t seem to be able to stop, “I’m never around, and I feel bad about it, ok? I dragged you out to the middle of fucking nowhere, away from all your friends and family, and then I spend every day at work in the city, and now you’re hurt, and I wasn’t there.”
Oh. Well, now Henry thinks he understands where all this is coming from. “Alex,” he says gently, lifting his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles and drawing Alex’s eyes up to his face. “First of all, love, you didn’t drag me anywhere, we chose this. Together. We knew what we were getting into. I won’t lie to you, you know I won’t, it is sometimes a little isolated at home, but I’m happy here. Did you realize that we actually see each other more than we did in New York, now that you work more reasonable hours?” He gives Alex’s hand a squeeze, and is rewarded by a tentative smile. “And this,” he adds, lifting his wrapped wrist, “is definitely not your fault.”
“Wasn’t taking the blame for that,” Alex mutters, trying to be gruff again but not quite managing it. “You’re the one who chooses to voluntarily associate with dangerous, man-eating beasts.”
“Come now, she only nibbled me a little while I was lying on the ground.”
“See! I knew it,” Alex says triumphantly, and they both laugh. It’s not long before Alex sobers again, though. “I do worry about you out there. There’s no cell service. What if something happened to you? Something really bad? How would I even know?”
“Well, Jane would come back without me, I expect,” Henry answers, only half joking. Alex is decidedly not amused. “I could get one of those trackable GPS devices, so you can always find me.”
Alex sniffs a little and shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I’d feel better if you weren’t going out alone.”
“Are you going to bring Oscar out and join me?”
“Hah,” Alex answers humourlessly. “Then you’d find me in ditch. Just promise me you’ll be careful?”
“I always am, love.”
“Yeah, that’s why I came home and found you trying to sleep off a broken wrist. After having put all kinds of stress on it doing things like cleaning your tack.”
“You don’t know it’s—” Henry starts, but stops when he sees the look on Alex’s face. His jaw snaps shut, then he lets out a huff and disgruntled, “Well, you try cleaning a crusty bridle that hasn’t been cared for properly after a ride.”
Alex laughs at him and tugs him a little closer, reaching up with his other hand to swipe a thumb over Henry’s cheek. “You are ridiculous,” he says fondly, drawing him into a brief kiss, “and I love you so much.”
Henry’s wrist, as it turns out, is in fact broken. Ulnar styloid fracture, only hairline so he won’t need surgery, the doctor says, but he’ll be in a cast for six weeks. Six weeks doesn’t sound so bad at the outset—it’s his non-dominant hand, after all—but then the doctor clarifies that means six weeks of no riding, even though he’s certain he could get by with one wrist. That is certainly less optimal.
“How am I supposed to get the stable chores done with this thing?” Henry grumps as they drive home, his new cast nestled in a sling against his chest. He already hates it.
“We’ll hire someone, H. It’s fine.”
“You know Jane doesn’t take well to new people,” Henry protests. “She wouldn’t let Bea come within three meters of her the last time she visited. And she has a cut that will need new dressing regularly.” He falls silent for a moment before his eyes slide over to Alex. “She likes you.”
“She wants to eat me, you mean,” Alex huffs. “No way. You said she trusts the vet. We’ll have her come out to do it.”
“Every day?”
“Why not?”
“Because Dr. Peters is busy, Alex.”
“Look, we’ll figure it out, ok? Something that doesn’t involve me.”
Two days later, Henry wakes up disoriented and disgruntled. He’d managed to sleep on his arm oddly, Alex isn’t in bed next to him, and he’s pretty sure the alarm hadn’t gone off even though the sun is already well up. Alex had managed to convince his bosses to let him work from home for a few days to look after him—even though Henry had insisted it was not necessary—which theoretically meant they didn’t have to get up so early, but still, they’re early risers by habit now. Henry drags on some pajama pants and does his best to shrug on a shirt halfway, leaving one side draped over his shoulder and cast, then shuffles out into the house, where not a sound greets him, not even David.
“Alex?” he calls, but there’s no answer.
Alex and David aren’t on the porch, or in the back yard, which pretty much just leaves the barn, unlikely as it may seem. Henry’s still yawning as he makes his way down there, and before he even gets there he hears voices echoing though the mostly empty space. Well, a voice, singular.
“Look, we’re going to have to come to an agreement here,” Alex is saying. “I’ve made my offer, now it’s your turn to counter.”
In response, Jane whickers softly. Henry creeps closer, careful not to make a sound, until he can just peek around the corner and down the barn aisle. To his surprise, Jane is standing in the middle on the cross ties, which implies that Alex actually took her out of her stall to do put her there. Henry is, frankly, a little flabbergasted. Yesterday Alex had reluctantly kept watch from a ‘safe’ distance as Dr. Peters had shown Henry the best way to wrap up Jane’s wound. It seemed like he’d be able to manage it even with his arm in the cast, so they’d decided to try it out at first and see how it went for a few days at least. Now, though, Alex stands facing away from Henry with the bandages and the medication in his hand, his curls even more of a riot than they normally are in the morning, as if someone has been ruffling them.
“Hm. Not sure I can accept those terms,” Alex tells the horse. Then he sighs. “Not sure I have much choice. Don’t tell my boss I accepted the first offer, ok?”
He steps closer, dropping down onto the stool already set next to Jane’s injured front leg. With her halter clipped to the cross ties she can’t actually reach him where he’s sitting, though that doesn't stop her from trying. Ignoring her efforts, Alex applies the bandage with careful, precise movements that prove how closely he’d been watching Dr. Peters’ instructions. Henry knows he should probably make his presence known, but instead he stands transfixed as Alex finishes up and stands again. He pulls an apple treat out of his pocket and offers it to Jane, successfully diverting her attention from his hair—for the most part, anyway.
“Don’t tell Henry, either, ok?” Alex murmurs, just loud enough to be heard, while Jane nuzzles gently at the side of his face as he puts her back in her stall. “He’s gonna be insufferable.”
“Insufferable about what, love?”
Alex startles, turning back toward where Henry is grinning at him from the open barn doors. “You heard that, did you?” he asks, looking like he’s been caught doing something wrong rather than being the sweetest husband on the planet. Henry just nods as he walks over to him and slides his good arm around Alex’s waist, tugging him close and burying his face in his curls. “You do know I’ve just been slobbered on by a horse there, right?”
“Mm, I don’t mind.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You love me.”
“Yeah,” Alex agrees, “I do.”