Ethan nods and lets his fingers stroke a passing hen before he remembers my scolding. “Gives me the creeps, Riley. That’s all.”

“Me, too,” I say. “Me, too.”

When the sun sags low in the west, we call it a day. It’s been over a week since I’ve done a full day’s chores and my muscles ache. I’m sweaty and gross under my heavy coat, but there’s no bath in sight. It doesn’t matter. No one here would notice body odor over the thick smell of waste and decay inside the house.

Bennett sets out crusts of bread and muddy water and then limps to bed. Even with help, the farm work has wrung him out. A wave of pity washes over me. Their life is punishingly hard and working their fingers to the bone might not be enough. Somehow Arn made life on our farm manageable. The image flashes into my head of Arn’s lean figure standing on the porch after a long day’s labor. The sadness sticks in my throat. I swallow it down with a gulp of cloudy water. I gag and set the glass down. The water’s vile, a taste between wet shoe and rusty pipe. How did Ethan gulp down so much when he came in earlier? It probably made him sick. That’s why he’s already in bed.

Clay slumps into a chair next to me. The hairs on my arms start to tingle and I realize this is the first time we’ve been alone together. Stop it. I focus on trying to identify the lumpy brown mush smeared on the tabletop.

He gulps his water, makes a face and then looks at me. He points to the coat. “You wore that thing all day? Jesus. Bet you’re dying under there. You can take it off. Ben doesn’t care you’re a bender.”

I shake my head. “Just like wearing it.”

“It was a hundred degrees today. You gotta be soaked.” He takes another gulp of water. “Aw, hell, that’s nasty.” He sets the water glass down with a thunk. “Taste like horse piss.”

I look down at my water and watch the brown flecks swirl in the glass. I should get more fluids after how much I sweat, but I can’t bring myself to gag back any more. Maybe I’ll sneak out to the Jeep and drink some of the water there.

Clay pushes some junk out of the way and rests his elbows on the tabletop. His arm sits inches from mine. I can feel the heat of his skin, smell his musky male scent. Despite all my scolding, my body is responding to his presence in ways I haven’t felt before. My cheeks flush. My heart pounds.