Have Mercy - Christina Lee Page 0,1

and started a family, Mom went to NYU for college, met my dad, and never looked back.

The most recent times I’d visited my cousin Sienna, she was living with her husband, Kerry, on the Carmichael Ranch, where he was raised with his cowboy brothers, riding horses and rounding up cattle. Being there in my teens was one of the first instances I’d realized I was bisexual. All that flannel on display over muscled forearms, hard thighs in tight jeans, and hair curled beneath cowboy hats… Holy hot damn.

“Here are the silos side by side,” Mom pointed out. I focused on the photo of two cylindrical buildings standing tall and stark against the backdrop of a blue sky and acres of land. “One will still be used to store feed, but the other is empty.”

I stared harder, wondering what in the hell Sienna was thinking, building inside such a strange structure, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the challenge appealed to me. It reminded me of the trickier projects Dad and I would tackle together. The work was definitely gratifying, as was connecting with him, doing something he loved. Before I allowed that grief to settle inside me again, I thrust it from my thoughts.

“So you’ll consider it?” Mom asked, and I nodded, thankful she hadn’t said out loud the other thing she was undoubtedly thinking. I know what a tough time you’re having readjusting to civilian life. Your father did too.

If only he were around to talk to about it. How strange to resume a life that felt as foreign as the land you’d just spent years occupying.

My eyes snagged on a picture of Kerry Carmichael—tall, rugged, handsome—and I tried to imagine being raised on the ranch with all that testosterone and a more conventional world-view. It was easy to be pissed at his confession—and protective of Sienna for what she’d gone through—but it also showed how committed both of them had been to the family they’d built. And now I wondered for the first time if guilt was one of the reasons Kerry had stayed.

Mom nudged my shoulder. “Maybe Kerry could use a confidant.” She’d said as much in the past while they were going through the divorce. Your cousin might be hurting. How hard would it be to come out in Wyoming on a ranch? He needs support too.

I’d come out to my mom after my father died, during an emotional moment between us. It was no big deal to her or my sister, Caitlin, maybe because I never really had any girlfriends in high school either, just hookups with girls at parties and a crush I couldn’t easily explain away on the captain of the debate team, who was cute and brainy.

But I’d kept my preferences under wraps in the military, even though I’d had my share of experiences with interested men in one way or another. All it took was one dumbass deep throat banana competition to pass the time during long nights, and it was easy to see who might be willing.

“And maybe you could use one too.” Mom had always said my sexuality was my own to share, but in this situation, she was obviously talking about more.

Thankfully, Mom got a work call before I could respond, but it prompted me to reach out to some of my service buddies on leave, and that ended up being exactly what I needed. It was comforting, in a way, knowing you weren’t the only one feeling out of sorts, but I didn’t share everything—like the awful dreams or intense thoughts that still plagued me almost a year after the incident. Seeing the men from your squad, whom you’d come to know pretty intimately, get blown to smithereens wasn’t something easily put into words.

A new text came from Caitlin while I was finishing up an email with a buddy still on deployment.

Mom told me about Wyoming. What do you think?

Don’t really know. You got an opinion?

She always had an opinion. She lived in Brooklyn with her fiancé, Tim, who would agree that she had something to say about everything.

I think it’ll do you good. Plus, you can check out some hot cowboys. Or cowgirls.

I laughed and shook my head even though she couldn’t see me.

You’re ridiculous.

Go for the summer, then come back all fresh for my wedding. Can’t do it without you, Jules.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

It was an idea with an end date. But what if I hated it after only being