#cowgirl!abby anderson | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rhyrhy · 4 days ago

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Fields of you 🍎

Finished! 13k words

Farmhand Abby! X female reader

Synopsis: Nana was right; Anderson, ‘Miss Fix-It,’ was a looker... And you were definitely staring.

⚠︎︎︎ cw: homophobia, angst/fluff, Yearning (lesbian shit), slowburn!

Taglist cuties: @abbylvr69 @snake-in-a-flower-crown @cutyoursoul @abbyswh0r3

How did it all start?

Well, with one day in mid-February…

One: Under the hood ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The sunlight poured through your sheer cream-colored curtains, casting a heavy golden glow over your eyelids. The familiar smell of coffee poured into your room. That meant Nana was up. I better get up before she thinks I’m sleeping the day away, you thought. knowing how your grandmother doesn’t believe in staying in bed all day.

Nana and Papaw had been taking care of you since the days of pigtails and hiding under their wooden dining table.

You could still picture the same rocking chair on the porch where Nana would sit you down, tugging your hair into too-tight ponytails with those clunky, colorful beads at the ends. “Keep them hands out your head,” she’d warn, swatting your then small hands away.

She wasn’t being mean she just wanted it to be out of your face so you wouldn’t bump into anymore walls or track mud on the floors. They loved you. even if they were hard sometimes, that’s grandparents for you. Loving ones, anyway.

As you grew into a young woman your papaw would always pull the hem of your clothes down or ask you to put jackets on as he didn’t want men on the farm ‘getting ideas’. little did he know you weren’t the slightest bit interested in the males who came and gone on the land.

Especially after seeing her. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

You sat up, rubbed your eyes, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. After throwing on your usual work boots, you headed out, careful to avoid stepping in Clover’s excrement one too many times in your nice shoes. The house dog, who shadowed nana.

Making your way down the carpeted stairs to see the familiar sight of Papaw in his usual seat on the end of the couch, newspaper in hand, circling deals from the supermarket. And Nana in the kitchen making breakfast, which you always helped with.

Not feeling particularly hungry, you settled for some fruit and buttered toast. Nana raised an eyebrow at your choice but didn’t press though. However, she couldn’t resist saying, “Your stomach’s gonna be talkin’ to ya soon.” Which is just her way of saying ‘please eat later’.

You promised you would and headed out for the day.

The sun was beaming down on the grass, the air was warm complimented by the crisp breeze of the small gust of wind. pushing small pieces of hair off your lipgloss that stuck occasionally.

Meanwhile, Papaw put on his beanie to keep his head warm, no matter the weather. Along with the swish of his pants that your nana hated but it was his favorite pair. so, jokes about the noise sufficed instead of her throwing them out.

“Oh good lord” papaw groaned, as the engine of his truck struggled to keep—again. That thing was a bucket of bolts, but he wouldn’t scrap it. He loved it yet was always surprised when it broke down on occasion. through he always got it magically working again with some handyman who lived down the road apparently. They felt like a myth as you never got a chance to meet em’. “They could fix just about anything with their hands”. You just always gave papaw a pat on the shoulder when he would happily exclaimed that it was up and running again so he could continue his day.

“I’ll call Anderson,” Nana called from the doorway, shaking her head. She wished he’d just use one of the newer vehicles.

Yeah, Anderson. That was the name Papaw always dropped when talking about the helping hand. Yet, You didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Nana snapped you out of your thoughts with a teasing smile. “You’re quiet today, sugar.”

“Just thinking,” you replied.

“Well, stop all that thinkin’. Barn won’t clean itself, ya know.”

She joked and nodded towards the side door.

Welp, time to get muddy and that gross yet comforting smell that lingered as made your way to the showers. By the time you were done, your arms ached, and that earthy smell crept in.

You didn’t mind the extra elbow grease you had to put in helping on the land you used to run a muck in.

Sighing deeply, and cleaning your hands off with a rag. You made your way back to the house, to see if nana needed you to do anything else before you flopped down on your bed and spent a few hours reading.

The sounds of humming and metal clinking traveling into your earshot as you crunched down the gravel path. you were always greatful for it, as your sense of direction wasn’t the best, really. how embarrassing would it be to get lost on the land you grew up on. As you grew closer your sore eyes caught a glimpse of something that made you double take.

A Head ducked under the popped hood. One boot rested on the bumper. The other knee deep into the car, like she’d be swallowed if she leaned in any closer. White skintight top stuck to the figures toned torso. Sweat on their lower back. As your eyes trailed higher, you couldnt help but feel a little fluttered at the slight of their arms flexing with each twist, pull, and tinker. they really knew what they were doing.

The all-mighty handyman Papaw always talked about was a woman?

And woman she was indeed.

You tilted your head and took a step forward to get a better look, you couldn’t help yourself.

The crunch from behind gave her a slight startle the woman bumping her head on the hood. Dropping her tool in her hand to rub the spot. One eye shut from the sting. Your hand flew to your mouth, feeling bad for giving her such a scare. Yeah, you probably should have announced yourself.

“Damn it” she mumbled.

A pause breezes by as she steps out from under the hood of the vehicle. Still rubbing her head with a wince.“Well, that’s one way to start the day.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—Are you okay?”

She raises an eyebrow, curiously looking you over with small smile tugging at her lips.

“Just a bump, nothing major” She laughs, wiping grease off her hands. “If your grandfather sent you over, I’m just about finished.”

She knew of you? You almost felt bad, that means your grandparents must have been embarrassing you. Telling stories and what not, but You nodded, and proceeded to make small talk and double checking that she was alright with the small bump of her head. Her voice was soft, in contrast to her appearance.

Halfway through the conversation, you both realized you hadn’t to introduce yourself properly and that’s when you finally knew her name.

Abigail ‘Abby’ Anderson.

A name that definitely suited her. now, you only hoped papaws truck broke down more often because…

she was a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

Two: causal conversation ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Yesterday,

Abby couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would linger on her biceps during the conversation. She was used to people staring, but something about your lingering glances made her feel more self-conscious than usual.

A small part of her would come undone when you looked at her like that. But it wasn’t just physical; it was how easy the conversation came to you both... it was... nice. Not to say that Papaw wasn’t a chatter when she fixed his truck, but this was different, maybe?

She couldn’t quite place her finger on what felt so different about your short interaction with her. Before she could dive deeper into why, she gave a light chuckle, breaking the brief trace of thought.

“Well, I better finish up.” She gave the old reddish-brown truck a light pat as she turned back towards the hood.

Later, that day

You had made your way back to the main house, feeling a little embarrassingly flushed by the sight of Abby working on Papaw's car. “Miss Fix-It,” he called her, and it was damn sure fitting. He failed to mention how much of a stunner she was, you thought.

The screen door creaked open; Nana was in the kitchen when you walked in. She was at the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like chili, and glanced your way with a raised eyebrow.

“Who was that you were talkin’ to?” She asked curiously.

“Just Abby, saying hi.” You went to the sink to wash your hands, getting any grime from the day off.

Nana stirred the pot a few more times before resting the spoon against the side.

“Mhm, ’just saying hi, huh?” She teased, a look crossing her face.

the thoughts paused. ‘Is she reading my mind?’ You brushed it off and quickly replied.

“Yeah, I hadn’t met her before today is all.” You shrugged nonchalantly. Unfortunately, Nana leaned against the counter, studying you for a moment before speaking up again.

“…Well, isn’t she a looker?”

She mentioned it casually, a sly smirk on her lips as she watched you for any kind of response. You paused and kept your eyes on your hands washing them. The warm water only adding to the slight embarrassment creeping in

“Oh, I wasn’t looking hard, but I’m sure you’re right.” You lamely brushed off. Oh, of course you were looking. It was burnt into your memory.

The sweat trickling down her forehead. Her muscles flexing with each movement. The way the wind caught her stray hairs from her braid. The lines of her waist when she lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe her forehead. Her hands, that you couldn’t help what they would feel like touching your ski—yes. You were definitely looking. Nana couldn’t know that, though. She was a gossip, and the last thing you needed was her telling anyone your business.

You went on the rest of the breezy day as usual. Remembering you told Papaw you’d check in on Delilah. The heavily pregnant cow, amongst others. As you headed out to the barn, the crisp air tickled on your skin, and you could see Delilah lounging in her usual spot. Her belly rounder than ever.

You spent some time tending to Delilah, making sure she had everything she needed. The gentle, steady presence of the expectant cow was oddly calming. Occasionally, you could hear the soft rustling of straw from the other cows and horses in the barn, a gentle reminder that life was going on around you.

As you finished up with Delilah, making sure she was fed and comfortable, you couldn't help but wonder about Abby. Nana's teasing had stuck with you, and your thoughts kept drifting back to the striking woman you'd met earlier. Was your staring really that obvious? That’s embarrassing, good lord.

The image of her broad shoulders and strong arms working on the truck kept popping into your mind, each time sending a small jolt through you. you bite your lip and shook your head. She was an acquaintance and Papaw's friend; you shouldn’t be thinking like that. Get it together.

Returning to the house, you made your way upstairs to your room. As you walked down the familiar hallway, the quiet peacefulness of the farmhouse sank in. It seemed like everyone was either resting or out working, leaving the house eerily still. As you entered your room, you noticed the soft afternoon sun streaming in through the bay window. You sank down onto your bed, the soft sheets enveloping you as you laid back and closed your eyes. Letting the day and thoughts of Miss ‘Fix It’ roll off your back.

However, as you lay there with your eyes closed, your thoughts kept drifting back to Abby… and the memory of her eyes, locked onto yours... Those eyes—you groaned. And rolled over onto your stomach, face stuffed into your pillow.

You just met this woman; stop it. Just sleep.

Today,

Eventually, the sound of Nana’s voice outside your door jerked you from dreamland.

“Girl! You better wake up before you waste the whole day!” She called out from the hallway, her voice soft but filled with determination to get you moving again.

After the refreshing shower and a change of clothes, you made your way down to the kitchen, where Nana was busying herself with preparing breakfast. Her comforting morning routine. The aroma of whatever she was cooking wafted through the air, and your stomach rumbled in anticipation. Gosh, I’m hungry.

It would be nice to have a distraction from the thoughts you were having, Miss Handywoman.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. The air was still crisp, with a hint of dew on the grass. You took a deep breath, relishing the familiar scent of the farm that filled your nose.

As you made your way to the spot where Papaw’s truck was parked, you noticed something different. The usual rattle of the engine as he tried to start it was gone. It must be up and running again.

You approached the truck, and as you got closer, you saw the now-familiar figure of Abby leaning into the engine. Dressed in her work boots, a flannel, and faded jeans. She worked gracefully, her hands moving with practiced precision. The early morning sun glinted off the tools in her hand and highlighted the sweat on her brow. She hadn’t noticed you yet, her focus entirely on the task in front of her.

Should you say hi? You didn’t want to scare her like last time…. Okay, here goes.

“Good morning,” you called. Trying to not stare.

Abby looked up, surprise and then a smile crossing her features. A few loose strands of hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat. She straightened up, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her brow.

“Mornin’,” she replied, her voice soft, tone that rang through your ears beautifully. She set the wrench in her hand down and leaned back against the truck, crossing her arms.

“You’re up early again, huh?”

“Oh, I guess I am, “and you are fixing that bucket of bolts again?” You joked. Abby chuckled along, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She eyed the truck; her expression felt fond.

“Guess your Papaw just can’t help but test my skills every other week.” She teased, tapping the hood fondly with her knuckles.

“He’s bound and determined to get his money’s worth out of me.”You couldn’t help but follow the movement of her hand. What you wouldn’t do to have it on your skin.

“Well, he appreciates you coming when he calls. Talks about you all the time”, you said, glancing back to her face.

“Oh yeah? Only good things, I hope?” Her smile widened, a slightly bashful expression on her face. She ran a hand through her hair.

You reassured that it was only ever good things. Abby chuckled again at your response, picking up her wrench and resuming her work on the engine.

"Better be," she replied, "I don't need him spreading any rumors about me.” She teased, her voice light and playful as she tightened a bolt.

"But in all seriousness, I like fixing things and helping people. It's satisfying, you know? Especially when what you're working on is as stubborn as a mule, but you just keep at it..." Her words trailed off as she concentrated on the engine again.

You couldn’t help but selfishly feel disappointed. You wanted to keep the conversation going, but you had your own things to do, and she was clearly busy. Before heading out, you gave her one last once-over. drifting from her skilled hands to her face. Every now and then, she would mutter something under her breath or bite her lip, concentrating on the complex mechanical dance she was leading. It was fascinating and captivating. You could almost feel her dedication in the way she moved, in the precision of her every action. God, what else can those hands do?

You turned your head away, shaking it of those wondering thoughts.

“Well, I’ll see you around; have fun,” you said, turning on your heels to get back to your own task. Abby looked up from under the hood, giving you a questionable look, but seeing the glance you were so not subtly giving her, she smiled.

“Uh huh, sure you will. See ya round, yeah?”

She said in a sing-song tone, almost knowing full well the effect she was having on you. As she watched you walk away.

The day went on as usual, your chores and duties keeping you busy. But, much like a melody that gets stuck in your mind, Abby’s voice and smile crept their way back into your thoughts every now and again. You tried to resist the urge to think about her or the way her muscles flexed when she leaned over the truck… Nope, you shook your head. Focus. Focus.

Jesus, it’s been two days, and she’s already driving you up a wall from casual conversation?

What the hell were you going to do now?

Three: late night ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

By the time the sun was setting, the barn was cleaned, and the livestock were fed and tucked in for the night. Before heading into the house to wash up, you stopped by the driveway, wanting to see if Papaw’s truck looked any better.

The last thing you saw was Abby’s yellow toolbox resting on the bumper, confirming she’d left for the day. Oddly, you enjoyed the sight. It was almost like she left behind a small part of her.

As night fell, you tried to get some rest, but unfortunately your thoughts went wandering back to the handywoman. You cursed yourself for thinking about her so much.

The memory of her, focused, knee-deep in the hood of the car, was too stubborn to be ignored. Tossing and turning, every time your eyes closed, she would appear in your mind.

Ugh!

You eventually gave up on sleep, kicking off the tangled fuzzy blankets and sitting up in bed. A small creak followed your movements. You had a crush, no doubt. Abby was like a stubborn splinter you just couldn’t get rid of. You decided some cold air might help clear your head and quiet your racing thoughts.

A small annoyance crept in: not being able to sleep over a woman you barely knew? Felt pathetic, downright.

With it being too late to phone a friend, a walk sounded like the most sound decision. You tiptoed down the carpeted stairs, onto the worn wood. Creaking open the side door, you saw Clover settled in sound sleep on the corner of the porch. Your house slippers softly padded down the gravel and dirt path, needing to clear your mind.

Outside, the night air was comforting. The stars against the black-blue sky. crickets somewhat replacing the noisy thoughts in your head. You’d been walking about for a good while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the night, when suddenly, an unfamiliar sound cut through the silence. It was coming from nearby. A series of soft clangs and muffled cursing.

You knew approaching wasn't the best decision, but who would be on your family’s land at this hour? Were they doing something they weren’t supposed to? Or maybe lost?

You crept closer to the noise, not wanting to make a sound just in case. As you neared down the path, you spotted a soft glow coming from the open garage door of a barn. a figure silhouetted against the warm light within.

The cursing got a little louder and more colorful, but with a familiarity to it. Then, as you came to a stop beside the open door, the mystery was solved. There, still dressed in her work clothes, was Abby, kneeling beside a familiar black truck. She was clearly having car troubles.

“You alright?” You called out, arms crossed.

Abby jumped at the sound of your voice, not expecting anyone else to be around at this hour, especially not you.

"Oh! You scared me!” She exclaimed, a hand over her chest, eyes wide from the surprise. You were going to give her a heart attack at this rate. Maybe you should start wearing a bell, to keep from scaring her for a third time.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You said, lips falling into a small frown. Abby shook her head, a soft, warm chuckle escaping her lips.

"Nah, don’t apologize. It’s my own fault for being so focused I didn’t hear you come up."

She shifted on her knees, pushing back a brown strand of hair that fell on her face. She looked worn down but still so, so gorgeous.

“It’s late…Why aren’t you home?” You asked, tilting your head. Scanning over the clear frustration on her face. She shrugged, her gaze returning to the truck's engine as she spoke.

"Eh, I've always been a bit of a night owl. Plus, this old rust bucket decided to give me a few more problems.” She gestured to the vehicle, a hint of frustration in her voice.

Abby went on to explain that she’d be out here in the dark for around an hour, give or take. It was almost cartoonish how upset she was. Honestly though, after a long day of work, your car not working would definitely have steam blowing out of anyone’s ears.

You watched as she reached for a rag and wiped some grease off her hands. Picking up on the small habit of constantly cleaning off her hands while working.

You sat arms crossed listening the best you could. She did help out around the land; the least you could do was listen. Although this definitely wasn’t helpful in the ‘clearing my mind from Abby’ department.

"This thing just doesn’t want to cooperate; it’s been a real pain in the ass.”

“Can’t get home in that, huh?” You asked rhetorically.

"Not unless I enjoy walking the five miles back home. And trust me, no one wants to see me do that after a day’s work.” She gave the stubborn vehicle a light kick with her hard boot. Frustrated to hell.

“Need me to drive you? I don’t mind…” “I can’t sleep anyway, car ride might help” You sighed and honestly hoped she would accept the offer. More chit-chat would be nice, especially if she insisted on not leaving your brain while you tried to rest.

"You'd really do that for me?" Abby looked up at you, a mix of surprise and gratefulness in her eyes. She asked, clearly caught off guard by your offer. A moment of pause filled the air as she seemed to think over your offer. Then, a warm smile spread across her face."Ah, I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. I think I’ve hit a stalemate with this thing anyway."

You felt a rush of excitement goosebump your skin. Relax; she just wants to get home.

Small talk filled the air. She followed you down the familiar path towards the garage, her heavy work boots grinding against the gravel. As you both entered the garage, the silence of the night was briefly interrupted by the soft clicks and whirs of various machines and tools. Abby slumped back into the truck's passenger seat, her exhaustion showing on her face. Eyelids heavy.

She gave you directions as you navigated through the dark country roads, passing over gravel and occasionally potholes. The ride was mostly silent, save for the hum of the truck’s engine and your occasional question to confirm the right way. You couldn’t help but feel soothed by her small hum, another small habit you’d noticed.

As the vehicle crested a small hill, you approached a cozy, yet modest cottage with a few other outlying buildings. Soft yellow light spilled from the windows, casting a warm glow over the property.

"Thanks, for driving me…really."

Abby unbuckled her seatbelt, preparing to get out of the truck. A small zip followed. She placed a hand on the black door handle before pausing, turning back to you. "Hey…You sure you’ll be alright getting home this late? Don’t want you to get jumped by a badger or some other wild animal.”

“Oh? I can handle myself, thank you” you laughed. Abby chuckled, a hint of a smirk on her face.

"I don't doubt that. Just…promise me you’ll lock your doors, alright? And no more walks in the middle of the night." She teased, one boot hanging out the door.

“Only if you promise to look over your shoulder more,” you joked back since she clearly startled easily. Abby rolled her eyes; a huffed laugh followed.

"Oh, so I’m being lectured on safety now, huh? Is that what this is?" She placed a hand on her hip, looking you over with curiosity.

“Just dishing it back out is all.”

"Mhm, always gotta get the last word, hm?"

She chuckled, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. "Alright, fair enough. I’ll look over my shoulder, and you stay out of the fields after dark. Deal?"

“Deal.” You had to feel those hands, so you said, “We shaking on it?” Abby glanced down at your offered hand, a smirk on her lips. She looked back up at you, that beautiful twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, you’re going for the old-fashioned handshake, huh? Sure, I’m in." She placed her greasy hand in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

The handshake was solid, sending a small tingle down your arm. Abby laughed, a soft, genuine sound that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. She slowly released your hand.

"Goodnight. Get back safe, ya hear?"

She stepped out of the truck, waving goodbye. The porch light flickered on as she disappeared into the cottage, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

The drive home was a mix of silence and the hum of the engine, your mind wandering back to the encounter. You thought about the way she laughed, how her hand felt in yours. Strong but gentle. You felt a little silly getting all worked up over a simple handshake, but you couldn’t help it.

For some reason she had gotten under your skin in the best way possible.

Four: Shear luck ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Early march on the farm,

The days were getting longer, the nights shorter. The temperature had turned milder, and flowers were beginning to bloom.

A warm breeze carried the scent of spring through the air. You found yourself eagerly watching the tulips bud and blossom, their green stems giving way to red and orange petals, bees already hovering over them like supper

With the warmer weather, it was time to get down on your knees and shear the sheep. You knew you’d be blowing white hair out of your nose for a week after each session. The slight itch of stray strands clinging to your skin wasn’t exactly fun, but seeing the sheep happily bouncing around afterward always made it worth it.

The night she’d let you drive her home rushed back into your mind. The twitch of a smile that ghosted Abby’s lips when you held out your hand to her. The small head tilt she did when she was taken aback by something you said or deep in thought. For a moment, your heart was still racing, but as the sleepy haze faded, you took a deep breath and sat completely up.

Yes, there were other farmhands who would do it, but you’d been subconsciously waking up earlier in the past few days. Why not get a head start?

Oh lord, now you were starting your day thinking about her?

You groaned into the air and rubbed your heavy eyelids. Why on earth was this affecting you so much? She was just a farmhand. And an attractive one, sure, but you’d met attractive people before. So why was she different?

With a huff, you threw off the covers and got up, determined to get your mind off her. With Papa's truck running sweetly, you felt relief breeze over. That meant no Abby for a while. Plenty of time to sort yourself and these lingering thoughts out. You were going to straighten them like an iron to a wrinkly shirt.

You had a farm to help run. Plenty of things to keep your mind from wandering to her.

Trucking your way down the path to the sheep’s pen, a metal bucket of supplies swinging with each step. You enjoyed the soft hum of the razor when carefully peeling layers of wool off the sheep, like an onion.

White hairs flew in the air, blowing away some others stuck to your clothes. The pink-white face of the sheep, known to be a bit more stubborn, rested on your thigh as you carefully shaved back a layer of wool. Revealing the pinkish-white skin underneath.

The hum had died out, indicating a piece had gotten stuck inside the blade. No big deal; you always carefully removed it and continued on your merry way to finish the job. But today, when you turned your back to the ewe lamb, she’d curiously wandered off.

As she disappeared from your line of sight, you continued to get the blade up and running again. She wasn’t going anywhere; she was enclosed.

When the buzz finally returned, you sighed with relief. Then you laughed to yourself thinking about how if this was Papaw, he’d probably call Miss ‘Fix-It’ to come to his rescue. You’d swear if that man wasn't married, he’d keep Abby for himself. She was useful and dependable, though, at least that’s what he said.

Then horror washed over your face.

The small sheep was wiggling her way through the crack of the not-fully-pushed-in gate.

“Oh no, no, no!”

You quickly shot up and tried to make your way over in a calm manner to freak it out or encourage it to run. The sound of its feet pushing past the wood, causing your heart rate to shoot up higher.

You slowly bent down, hand hovering over its leg, when damn it, it saw you and forced its way through completely. The small half-shaved creature was now roaming out the pen.

You felt like a fool, shooting for the stars before you were fully awake; now you’d let a sheep loose. Great.

It had been around thirty minutes of chasing around the woolly troublemaker. She’s disappeared from your field of vision.

You cursed to yourself. Head hung down, catching the muddied reflection on the tops of your boots. A pout smacked onto your face, ugh.

You wiped your brow of sweat and defeatedly pushed off the oak tree you’d been resting on.

Clover would round up the lamb; you wished you would’ve remembered that before you ran around like a chicken with her head cut off.

Legs sore, out of breath, and hair stuck to you in places you’d rather it not be.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sound was growing louder behind you, and you tiredly turned to face the individual behind you.

It felt like a prayer had been answered; there she was! Happy as can be, like you hadn’t been losing your mind all morning. Then following the rope up to the hand holding it.

Abby, that ghosted smile on her lips.

“Missin’ Something?” She teased, nodding towards the little sheep.

“Oh, thank heavens! Where’d you find her?”

You took the lead from her calloused hands, keeping your cool at the slight brush of fingers.

“She wandered all the way down to the edge of my place. Looks like you are having a day, huh?” Abby chuckles, leaning her hands on her hips. boots scuffed, sleeves rolled up, and that small smirk that makes your heart stutter a little.

“A day? Please,” you brush off, embarrassed.

“Sureee,” Abby drawls out, biting back another laugh. “Just racing a lamp for fun? Gotta try it sometime then.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you murmured out.

“No problem,” Abby replies, patting your shoulder a tad firmer than she probably realized. “Next time, maybe try not letting’ her outsmart you, huh?”

Abby chuckled under her breath before tipping her hat, heading back to her land. You sat there, watching her figure grow smaller with the distance.

You sighed deeply and turned on your heels, taking a moment to look over your shoulder and feeling a small flutter as you saw her head turn back as if she’d done the same.

“What a morning,” you huffed, boots carrying yourself back to the pen. Double-checking the lock.

How embarrassing

Five: Held up in the rain ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You weren’t sure if you were just more aware of her presence or if she’d actually been around more these past few days. Nonetheless, the small sway of her brown hair and the sound of her work boots against the ground became a familiar occurrence.

One you didn’t mind one bit.

But last Wednesday is still stuck in the back of your mind. You were down with a small cold, so soup and a lazy day were your savior. You got up to stretch, bones cracking with an oddly satisfying sound. The room feeling a bit stuffy, you went over to open the window above your desk, but the figure a few feet below made your hands pause. Abby, miss handywoman herself.

You wondered what she was doing here so early, but instead of calling out, you took a few moments to admire and be nosy. She’d been out chatting with another farmhand; she seemed familiar with the man. Owen had helped you around the land a few times with projects that required more than just you. Eh, you thought. You turned your heel to return to bed when he snaked his arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t even flinch.

The hell.

He was okay looking, you supposed, but you couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight. It was a harmless gesture, hopefully... yeah, No way they were a thing. Oh, wow, you were getting territorial over her. You pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed.

Sure you two hadn’t outright flirted, but it couldn’t have been in your head, right??

Or were you just borderline pining for her?

It was too early to ask such questions; she’d think you were nuts. Correction, More nuts since she’d seen you chasing around that escaped lamb.

You tried to shake off last Wednesday, but you couldn’t help the small twist in your gut at how comfortable he looked. Probably just a friendly gesture; relax.

The following few days the skies had been a bit cloudy but still warm with a small cast of sun peeking down. That same fence the lamb escaped from was found to be broken. It definitely made me feel less embarrassed, but what didn’t is Nana asking you to call Abby on the house phone to see if she could come fix it.

Talking to her on the phone made you uneasy for some reason. You took a deep breath and pressed the grey buttons with the number she’d had written down on our fridge.

‘Always down the road if you need me xxx-xx—Anderson’

The small heart she drew next to it was cute, soft. She really was just a woman underneath all that grit.The sound of a soft sigh and click made you rock on your heels a bit. Holding the phone close to the shell of your ear.

“Hello?” She said, sounding like she had just gotten up.

“Heya, Abby, did I wake you?” You asked sympathetically.

You jumped at the sound of her clearing her throat and rustling on the other line. Almost like she had just suddenly sat up straight.

“Hey! No, I’m up…I’m up; what’s going on?”

Her voice much clearer now.

You twisted the red cord of the house phone talking to her. Explaining the situation and seeing if she was free. She wasn’t at the moment but said she’d be over in an hour or so. You thanked her and said goodbye, letting her hang up first.

A beat of soft breathing passed, then she spoke up.

“Alrighty then, see you…”

Was this awkward that you both had said bye and yet neither one of you had hung up yet… or confirming your thoughts of the past few weeks not just being ‘nothing.’.

You laughed awkwardly and eventually clicked the phone to hang up.

As much as your mind was jumbled mess, it would be nice to see her face. Nana was teasing but said she’d brought by a box of tissues for you. How sweet, driving five miles just for that. You were lost in thought thinking about all these unspoken moments happening between you and the all mighty miss ‘fix-it’

You didn’t even notice how crazy you must’ve looked, hand still on the phone, giggling to yourself.

You pulled yourself together and straightened up. You still have chores to do yourself; maybe you could see the sleep last so you could see Abby for a bit while she worked. To thank her for the tissues, nothing more.

The afternoon had grown a grey color, a small shadow of clouds falling down. You being much too distracted with doing other things hasn’t noticed the sudden stillness of the wind.

You’d been mid small talk with Abby, watching her nail a few things in place when you felt a droplet on your shoulder. The cold sensation caught you off guard, but Abby asking you to hold a nail still snapped you out of it. The closeness to her definitely made your heart speed up a bit. You could count the freckles on her cheeks if you wanted, but you focused on helping her.

“Just hold that still for me,” she asked.

You nodded and let her finish up with your minor help when the first crack of thunder rolled past.

The next thing you two know, Abby's hat brim was filling with rainwater. The heavy downpour wasn’t sudden, but you’d been too distracted to notice. Great.

“Damn it to hell—come on!” You weren’t sure if you were impressed or startled by the firm grip she had on your wrist, pulling you to your feet. Dropping the nails you had in hand. You both retreated to the nearby barn.

With heavy breathing, you leaned against a wooden beam. Clothes soaked and sticking to you, uncomfortably.

“You alright?” You asked her, glancing over to her shaking off her hat.

“Yeah, just drenched,” she replied, gesturing to herself.

“You and you both,” you laughed and looked away from her tee that was definitely a little more see-through with the rain soaked into it, whew.

When the rain began to ease and Abby moved to check outside, you blurted out, “Thanks, by the way.”

“…For what?” She glanced back at you, brows lifted slightly, with that cute head tilt.

“Oh, uh, the tissues. That was… thoughtful of you.”

“Didn’t think it was a big deal. You needed them, so…” Abby’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, and she gave a small, nonchalant shrug.

“Well, it was sweet,” you said quickly, feeling a little flustered as her gaze lingered on you.

Her smile grew, though she didn’t say anything else. Instead she turned to stop herself from the smile growing further. She opened the barn door just enough to peek outside, gesturing for you to follow as the drizzle began to slow.When you got back to the house, Nana was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. She turned to greet you with a knowing look. “Storm catch y’all off guard?”

“Sure did,” you muttered, setting your muddy boots by the door.

Abby offered a polite nod. “Rain came out of nowhere, but we got everything squared away.”

Nana’s eyes flicked between you and Abby, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, it’s good to have help around. Lord knows she can’t do it all herself,” she said, nudging you lightly.

“Don’t I know it,” Abby teased, her voice playful. Shooting you a small wink, then back to your grandmother.

Before you could retort, Papaw’s voice called from the living room. “She can handle herself just fine. Ain’t that right, girl?”

You winced at his tone, a little sharper than usual. Clearly not a fan of the insinuation. Nana shot you a look that said, Don’t start anything, before turning back to her pot.

“Well, we’re grateful for the help anyway,” she said, her voice light but pointed.

“I should get going. Thanks for letting me dry off here.” Abby seemed to pick up on the subtle tension, clearing her throat as she glanced toward the door.

Six: Hands on, Hands off ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

This morning the air was unmistakably thick with the smell of damp earth, the last traces of last night’s rain still clinging to the fields of the land. Your yellow rubber boots carried you as your mind was elsewhere. The sound of dry skin rang out as you rubbed your hands together, trying to push away the stiffness in your fingers as you made your way toward the barn. Today was supposed to be like any other, with chores, routine, and keeping yourself busy.

And yet, all you could think about was the lingering weight of yesterday. The phone call. The way neither of you had hung up right away. The distaste in Papaw’s voice. And, of course, her.

You shook your head, setting your shoulders. Enough of that. Enough of this damn near yearning. If you can even call it that. I mean what was going on? It was starting to irritate you if anything.

A silky voice cut through your thoughts. Low, familiar.

“You always look this serious, or is that just for me?”

You jumped at the sudden voice and turned to meet it. Abby, wiping her forehead with the hem of her shirt. Giving you a clear view of her midriff, Jesus. You quickly picked your eyes up before she glanced back up to meet your gaze. Just for her? Okay, she’s just teasing now.

“Pfft, just you,” you chuckled.

A thoughtful hum came from her, almost like she was approving of your answer. Things had been a little…awkward since the storm. You had been cutting conversations shorter, needing to get a grip on this schoolgirl crush. You are grown, damn it! Plus you aren’t even sure what all this could mean, too afraid to ask. Much too early to tell.

Since the storm, any worn wood had taken a hit during. Wobble here, loose there, a mess.

“Make yourself useful; they could use the extra hands,” Papaw said, newspaper in hand.

So you did. Adding yourself to the bodies scattered around the farm. A part of you enjoyed days like this; it could be a bit lonely when you weren’t in town or the loud city. Home is nice but too quiet at times. You’d been working at arm's length from her all day, and now you two had to work together. Great.

She was knelt beside you, the heat of her body mingled with yours. Working with the animals most days, you weren’t sure how to reinforce a fence with new nails without it looking like an arts and crafts project. Abby’s guidance was more than helpful; the slight praise when you did something right definitely made the nonexistent room you were in feel hotter.

“Here, grip it like this—yeah, just like that. You don’t want to hold it too tight, or you’ll throw yourself off balance.” Abby, when from hovering to standing close behind, occasionally reaching over to adjust your grip, her calloused hands settling over yours. Her voice is always in that low, steady tone.

“Loosen up a little—relax; I got you.”

Oh, she was killing you. Her chest almost grazing your back, head damn near on your shoulder. You weren’t sure if you wanted to run, scream, kick her away, or do all of them.

You kept your cool and let her show you what she needed to. Work still needed to be done regardless of how flustered you were feeling. The occasional brush of her tan kissed skin against your own made you feel a little dizzy.

A deep sigh fell out as you finally finished with the damn fence. After hammering into more than you can count, the two of you were standing by the barn, the scent of wet land still fresh in the air. Abby had a length of thick rope in her hands, casually twisting it between her fingers as she explained.

“Tying a good knot isn’t about forcing it—it’s about letting the rope do what it’s meant to. Feel it, don’t fight it,” she said, stepping closer. “Cmere, let me show you.”

She took your hands in hers, rough fingertips brushing against your palms as she guided them. You swallowed, focusing hard on the rope instead of the warmth of her touch.

“See? You keep hesitating right here,” Abby murmured, her voice low. She adjusted your grip, fingers pressing gently over yours. “Just let it loop through, like this.”

You nodded and listened the best you could. You weren’t sure if it was the knot-tying or the fact that Abby was this close—her breath warm against your skin, the faint smell of her shampoo lingering. This was that softer side of her you grew fond of. Gentle but firm when needed.

Then, footsteps crunched against the gravel path behind you. You felt a bit of relief for the distraction until you saw who the figure was. Sigh.

“Well, would you look at this,”

Owen’s voice cut through the moment, light and teasing. “Abby Anderson is giving hands-on lessons now? Thought you didn’t have the patience for that.”

Abby didn’t pull away immediately, but she did loosen her hold on your hands, stepping back just slightly. She glanced at Owen with an easy smirk. “Some people are worth the effort.”

Those familiar laughs that made it clear he and Abby had history, even if it wasn’t anything serious.

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot, Anderson,” Owen grinned, nudging her playfully.

Your stomach fell a little more than you should have. You didn’t have a right to feel jealous or anything of the sort, not really. But watching the way he leaned into her space, how comfortable he was with her, it sent a slow burn of irritation through your chest. Abby must’ve noticed, because when Owen finally left, she turned back to you, arms crossed, lips quirked in amusement. Those feelings from Wednesday were clear as day on your face. Abby studied you for a long moment before speaking. Her hand fixing the strap on your overalls before pulling back.

“Y’know, if looks could kill, Owen’d be a goner.”

Your face burned. “I wasn’t—”

“Mhm,” she hummed, not looking convinced. A slow smile tugged at her lips as she reached for the rope again, holding it out to you. “C’mon, Show me that knot one more time.”

You huffed a playful sigh and went back to focusing. You weren’t sure why his presence bugged you so much, or maybe you did? Regardless, she was free woman it was best you didn’t medal in business that wasn’t yours.

Seven: A Fair trade ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summer was full of sweating through gray shirts, shaving until your skin was red, and, most importantly, the annual farmers market, the one event you actually looked forward to.

You grunted as you wiped sweat from your forehead, pushing up the wooden stand until it was at least semi-straight. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold.

Nana and Papaw were already laying out our goods homemade wooden crafts, jars of preserves, and fresh fruit so ripe the juice would run down your chin. The market was alive with movement, packed with bodies and city folk gawking at non-artificially tainted foods like they’d stumbled into some mythical past. Pricing them way higher than needed but hey, you weren’t telling. You focused on setting out more things, but Papaw’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Keep your head on straight,” he said, not even looking up as he arranged a line of jams.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Huh? I am.”

What was he on about, you prayed it had nothing to do with abby. He made a noise, something between a grunt and a sigh.

“Mhm. Just saying’. Been seeing’ a lot of you ‘round Anderson, lately.” You rolled your eyes, irritation prickling at your skin hotter than the sun beating down.

“And..? She’s helpin’ fix the fence. Y’know, the one that needed fixin’?”

Papaw didn’t push, but you caught the small shake of his head before you turned back to work, biting your tongue. This was family time, whatever he was sitting on could wait. You told yourself to relax, not to dig too deep. Not now.

Whatever his issue was, it wasn’t yours. Of course you’d been around the farmhand! She basically lives there, it’s not like you’d been going out of your way to see what she’s up. No, you’d only been offering her cold drinks and helping hands for efficiency purposes…yeah, totally that. You were in the middle of setting out more wooden trinkets when a smaller shadow fell over the stand.

“Are these yours?”

You looked up, expecting another customer, but instead, a boy..maybe sixteen or seventeen, stood there, holding up a small carved horse you’d made. His brown eyes were curious, fingers tracing over the details.

“Yeah,” you answered. “You interested?”

Before he could respond, another voice, one much more familiar cut in from the next stall over.

“Didn’t think I’d see you peddlin’ your goods out here.”

There was that beautiful distraction, it was almost like you could feel when she was around. The wind would shift and goosebumps would run down your skin. Abby stood next to her own stand, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. She was dressed the same way she always was worn jeans, a simple tee, hair braided back but something about her presence made the market feel a little smaller, a little warmer. That same softness.

“Gotta make a livin’ somehow,” you shot back, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped.

Abby picked up one of your trinkets, turning it over in her hand. “You any good at this?” she asked, tossing the question toward the boy. “Or am I going to regret buying?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he replied, smirking like they shared some inside joke.

You narrowed your eyes, glancing between them. “You break it, you buy it.”

Abby’s smirk deepened, but she said nothing. Instead, she placed the trinket back down and leaned casually against her stand. For a few minutes, business went on as usual. people coming and going, picking through the goods, but you kept catching glimpses of Abby. And, more annoyingly, you weren’t the only one.

Someone stopped by her stand, a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, clearly interested in more than just whatever Abby was selling. You weren’t listening to their conversation, but you could hear the way Abby’s voice dipped into something easy, something familiar.

And for some reason, it made your stomach twist. She had nothing on you though…right? Oh Christ, stop it! There’s no need to put her down just because she’s near a woman who has her free will. Sigh. You went back to organizing jars with more force than necessary.

“…You get this weird look on your face whenever Abby talks to people. You know that, right?”

You stiffened, turning to see the boy, who was still hanging around. Watching you with clear amusement.

“I don’t— what—” you started, but he just raised an eyebrow. Nearby, Abby was still talking, but she had definitely heard. Embarrassment creeping in. That Heat crawled up your neck. You focused on your work, refusing to acknowledge either of them.

Eventually, the day wound down. Stalls started packing up, and you wiped your hands on your jeans, exhausted but satisfied.

Just as you were about to start loading things into the truck, Abby wandered over. She picked up one of the last jars of preserves and examined it like she was actually considering the purchase.

“Hey, you …Reckon this is a fair trade?” she asked, holding it up before swapping it with something from her own stand. You glanced at what she handed you—a small, well-crafted wooden charm, simple but sturdy, And oddly painted in your favorite color. She’d picked up on that? ..that’s sweet

Before you could respond, the boy—who had finally wandered back over—spoke up again.

“Oh yeah, Abby’s got a thing for homegrown stuff.”

You blinked. “Wait—you two are…?”

Abby, already stepping away, gave a lazy nod.

“He’s my kid brother.”

That threw you. Before you could piece together a response, she patted your shoulder.

“Guess I’ll be seein’ you around, farmer girl.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you standing there, jar in hand, heart pounding for reasons you weren’t quite ready to admit. Mixing with a bit of joy to know more about her.

Eight: A glimpse of truth ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The wooden charm hit the floor with a dull thud, but in your half-asleep state, you mistook it for the sound of your alarm and slammed the snooze button for the second time.

You’d earned a slow morning. With family visiting, you’d put in extra work the night before, making sure everything was in order so you could take your time getting up without guilt. No mud-streaked clothes, no sweat running down your back before noon—just a morning to yourself.

Sitting up, you yawned and stretched, running your fingers through the tangled fairy knots in your hair before grabbing a comb. Your eyes flickered toward your bedside table, where the wooden charm now rested.

You hadn’t spoken to Abby much since the market, not because you were avoiding her, but…well, maybe you were. Not on purpose, but the lingering weight of Papaw’s words settled heavy in your mind.

“Keep your head on straight.”

It was stupid. You knew it was. He loved you, always had. He was just…traditional. That’s all. It wasn’t a big deal. Right?

You exhaled through your nose, shaking the thought away as you pulled yourself together. No point in lingering on something you weren’t ready to unpack.

Downstairs, the house buzzed with conversation, the scent of fresh biscuits and coffee thick in the air. You stepped into the kitchen, immediately met with the sight of family gathered around, familiar faces and warm voices filling the space.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” one of your aunts teased, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.

“Had to sleep in after all that work I did,” you shot back easily, stealing a biscuit off the counter before Nana could swat your hand away.

The chatter continued, questions flying back and forth, laughter filling the room. It was nice, this—family being around, the nosy teasing that came and went with love.

Then the godawful repeated question,

“So, you got yourself a boyfriend yet?”

The question landed casually, but it made your stomach twist. You hesitated just a second too long, biscuit halfway to your mouth. Papaw was at the table, flipping through a newspaper, seemingly uninterested in the conversation but you knew he was listening.

“Oh, leave her alone,” Nana’s voice cut in before you could figure out how to dodge the question. “She’ll tell us when there’s something worth telling.”

The tensions small it barely had time to settle was gone, just like that. The subject shifted, laughter picked up again, and you took a slow breath, shoulders easing. You glanced at Nana, but she wasn’t looking at you. Just kept on kneading dough like nothing had happened.

A short memory flickered, Nana shushing similar questions when you were younger, always deflecting when anyone pried too much about who you were interested in. Your chest tightened, warmth curling behind your ribs. She knew. She’d always known. And she didn’t see you any differently.

The day passed lazily, family filling the house, conversation and meals stretching long into the afternoon. You didn’t think about Abby..not too much, anyway but as you stood near the open window, watching the evening settle over the land, movement caught your eye. Down the gravel path, back covered in sweat, Abby walked with an tired sway, probably heading home for the day.

When The words left your mouth before you could think twice.

“Hard working or hardly working, Anderson?”Abby glanced up, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her smirk was immediate.

“I’ve done my work, you get back to lazing around!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. She was only joking. you both had rest days, and she knew damn well how hard you worked. Still, as she walked on, disappearing down the path, you found yourself staring at the empty space she was once in.

Laying down for the night, your fingers found that charm again.

Nine: Lovers’ quarrel ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Thanks again.” You said a little too quickly.

The words were clipped short, barely more than a breath, as you set down the box and turned to go. You didn’t look at Abby. You hadn’t looked at her much these past few weeks, not really. You honestly couldn’t. it wasn’t on purpose, that there was just too much going on. Family coming and going, chores piling up, Papaw’s watchful gaze always feeling a little heavier than before. That distaste on the tip of his tongue.

But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was, you weren’t sure what to do with all the feelings tangled up inside you.

Jealousy sat at the pit of your stomach, strong and stupid. The way Abby laughed with Owen, the way she smiled easy at that lady at the market, Ugh. it had your chest twisting more than needed. And then there was Abby herself, with her ridiculous small touches, the teasing words, the way she’d smile when she knew she had your attention. She gave you crumbs. And you hated how you were basically starving for them. For her. So, you pulled away. Bit by bit. Maybe if you distanced yourself, you’d stop wanting.

But Abby, This Abby, wasn’t the type to let things slide. So, why were you surprised when she cut you off causing your heels to stop in their path with:

“Y’know…,” her voice came, casual but edged with something else, “if you’re gonna keep avoidin’ me, at least put some effort into it.”

You halted. Slowly, you turned back. She’d noticed, of course she did. You came to face a slightly tensed Abby. She was watching you, arms crossed over her chest, eyes lined with something unreadable.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” You lied right through the skin of your teeth, not wanting this conversation to take place. Not knowing what it would unlock, if anything.

“Yeah?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “C’mon, don’t do that.”

The heat rose to your face before you could stop it. you weren’t sure how to reply to her, so you choked up whatever came out first.

“Do what?” You knew exactly what. Feeling guilt climbing from somewhere you’d rather it not. She was pushing on a place she shouldn’t.

“Act like I’m just makin’ shit up.” Her brows pulled together, frustration creeping in. “You’ve been different. Ever since the market, maybe before that.”

“Ain’t nothin’ changed. Will you relax?” Your jaw clenched down.

“Bullshit!” Abby stepped closer, her presence all-consuming, and you hated how your pulse jumped at the nearness. “You don’t talk to me the same. Don’t look at me the same. Hell— I barely see you anymore unless it’s in passing.” She wasn’t wrong. And that made it worse. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails pressing into skin as the words slipped out, unfiltered and bitter.

“Maybe you should be talkin’ to someone else then, seems like you got plenty of options.”

The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. Abby’s expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes before her head tilted. But it wasn’t that cute head tilt it was one of defense.

“What was that?” She asked, and boy Your stomach twisted.

“Nothin’.” “Dismiss that, I’m just talking out my ass”

“Nah.” Abby took another step forward, her voice softer now, but no less intense. “Go on.” You swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze. You weren’t about to say it again. Weren’t about to admit what was really brewing, not if she wasn’t going to say Anything outright. Why should you?

So, instead, you shook your head and muttered, “Forget it.” A beat of silence stretched between you. Then Abby exhaled sharply, her frustration giving way to something else.

“Fine,” she said finally, voice cool, “it’s forgotten”

And just like that, she turned and walked away. You let the tension sit in your chest for the rest of the evening. It gnawed at you, made your skin itch.

So, that happened. Sigh, you found yourself at the stall with the newborn calves, feeding them in the quiet. Their little pink noses nudged at your hands, soft and warm, pulling a tired smile from you. Today— the past few weeks have been mental gymnastics. You just wanted a bit of solace. Hell, even a crumb would do. It was starting to pile up, weighing down.

The sound of footsteps made you roll your eyes so far you swear you saw your brain for a moment. Then, of course she wasn’t going to let the conversation end like that.

Abby wasn’t looking at you at first, just setting down a small sack of feed. Awkwardly putting her hands in gas’s stained jeans.

“Figured they could use some extra,” she muttered.

This wasn’t about the cows. She stayed still, waiting.

And maybe it was the way she’d come back instead of leaving things unfinished. Maybe it was the way she’d always been the one to reach out first, even when she was just as caught up in this mess as you were. But for the first time in weeks, you let yourself meet her halfway. Might as well, you sighed.

A truce

Your hand lifted, slow and hesitant, before brushing across the broad plane of her back. Just a light touch, the warmth of it lingering.

Abby stilled at first, then exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly as she let herself lean into it.

No words needed. Not yet.

As you dusted off your hands of feed and turned to leave the stall, you glanced at Abby over your shoulder, a teasing found in your voice.

“…Didn’t know me avoidin’ you bugged you that much.”

Abby scoffed, rolling her eyes, a hesitant pause fell. Letting you close up, taking one last look at the calf. Then, just as you were stepping away, she muttered, half under her breath but loud enough for you to catch.

“Yeah, well… guess I’m not used to wantin’ someone to stick around.”

By the time you turned back, she was already busying herself with heading back, like she hadn’t just said something that made your chest tighten. You wanted to call her back, make her repeat herself…but she clearly wasn’t ready to be more direct. we’re either one of you? Past small touches and jokes?

The questions stayed there, as you stared at that small charm on you bedside later that night.

Ten: A close call ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The house was tense. It had been for days now. You could feel it before you even reached the middle of the carpeted stairs, voices rising and falling in the kind of hushed argument that still carried enough weight to settle heavy in your chest.

“She ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong,” Nana said, voice steady but edged with warning.

“It isn’t right.” Papaw’s voice was gruff, tired, but firm.

“Ain’t right by who, exactly?” Nana shot back.

You hesitated on the last step, fingers gripping the railing. you stayed put, not wanting to pull away..and not wanting to hear more. This was absurd. None of their business; you aren’t the same girl with beads in her hair and muddy sparkly rain boots . You were a woman with her own mind and wants.

“She’s young. She doesn’t know what she wants yet.” He said, in a half-hushed tone.

“She knows just fine,” Nana snapped. “And even if she didn’t, that isn’t for you to decide. You love that girl, don’t you?”

Papaw huffed. You could picture him standing there, arms crossed, jaw clenched, struggling to put his feelings into words.

“Then act like it.” She sighed deeply, dissatisfied with her husband’s reaction to something of this manner.

But it was too much. The heat, the pressure in your chest, before you knew it, your shoes were hitting the wooden floor harder than intended as you stepped into view.

Their heads snapped toward you.

“I’m goin’ out.” Your voice was short, clipped. That same tone that had been stuck in your throat since it all had been building on your shoulder. You didn’t wait for a response before stepping out the door, letting the creaky screen slam behind you. Usually Nana would call after you to be more gentle with her doors, but not today. Not after what she knew you’d been hearing whispering of since that day you’d come in from the rain with Abby.

Papaw didn’t call after you. Maybe he knew better. Maybe he felt bad. Either way, you didn’t stop. You need a damn minute, just a second.

You weren’t sure where you were going until you were there. The stables smelled like hay and dust, the late afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the wood. It was quiet, save for the occasional snort from one of the horses.

Good. You needed quiet. Finally, quiet.

Your hands still trembled slightly from the argument, so you busied them, grabbing a nearby brush, anything to keep yourself—your brain—occupied. How did this all come so quickly? You’d been nice and said hi to a woman who fixes shit, and now you felt like you’d been put under fire for it.

So caught up in your own thoughts and breathing You didn’t hear Abby approach at first, but the sound of her boots against the wooden floor made you tense.

“You got somethin’ against doors, or do you just like stormin’ off dramatically?”

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes, but didn’t look at her. “Not in the mood.”

She didn’t ask again. You were clearly having a day. She Just leaned against one of the stable posts, arms crossed, watching. For a while, neither of you spoke. Giving you a moment of needed silence

You forced yourself to ignore her presence for once. for once in moment, you let the darkness of your eyelids in the world of your brain. Settle for just a beat. The sound of her adjusting her position on the wooden post didn’t even register until.

“Ouch!—Shit.”

Your head turned just in time to see Abby staring at her hand, a small splinter sticking out of her finger. There was again that gentleness beneath the carefully crafted stone wall of her outside.

You didn’t even feel the frustration flow down your back like a stopped faucet. She just stood there, staring at her finger like she wasn’t sure how to help herself. If you weren’t so frustrated previously, you might’ve laughed, but instead, you stood up and took a few careful steps over to where she was standing to get a better look at her now very slightly wounded hand.

Abby sighed and began patting the pockets of her worn jeans for something to pull the splinter out. When she tensed at the sudden hold on her wrist.

“Let me see,” you said blankly, still not in the mood but not wanting her to hurt herself further.

Abby rolled her eyes but extended her hand anyway, palm up. You stepped closer, taking her calloused fingers carefully in your own. The splinter wasn’t deep, but you took your time anyway—digging it out slowly, dragging your fingertips along her skin just enough to be annoying.

“There,” you said, once it was free. “Think you’ll live.”

She huffed a soft laugh when you made a joke about you fixing something for her for a change, feeling a little bit apologetic for your dismissal of her earlier. She was trying to check on you, and you had been a bit mean. Abby shaking her head, but when the laughter faded, she didn’t pull away from you. Letting her arm stay in your hand.

Instead, she just… looked at you.

It was subtle at first. The way her gaze flickered, just briefly, downward. You caught it. Your heart kicked up.

It would’ve been easy to ignore. To brush it off as nothing, keep things light. But instead, you took the risk. Going against better judgment, you repeated the eye movement.

Your gaze dropped—to her lips, then back up.

Abby noticed. You saw it in the way her lips parted slightly, as if she might say something…but she didn’t. You recognize this silence, the way both of your breathing picked up. This was exactly like the day you called her. She didn’t want to hang up; she told you she’d be there in an hour, and she still didn’t move her fingers to the gray buttons to hang up her own house phone after the conversation had already faded into nothing but the same silence that was washing over right now.

The barn suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker. Neither of you moved; neither of you spoke.

And then, Abby shifted. Just enough to snap the moment, clearing her throat as she pulled her hand away.

“Y’know,” she muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets, “if you were really worried about me, you’d kiss it better.”

It was a joke. Obviously. But her voice wasn’t as confident as usual, a slight rasp in the words that made your stomach twist.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned away, but you couldn’t hide the heat creeping up your neck. Instead, you told her to stay put while you grabbed a Band-Aid for her hand just until the small break in her skin of the finger healed.

Final: Kissing it better ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Supper in mid-April was warm, filling, and laced with the kind of easy conversation that only happened when things were settling into place. Nana and Papaw had their moments, but there was no thick tension, no sharp words. Just the clatter of dishes, the low hum of the radio, and the occasional chuckle between bites.

You could feel the shift—subtle, but there. Even in Papaw, who had spent the past few months stiffening at the mere thought of you and Abby being something. Now, his comments were still gruff, but there was something softer underneath, something close to acceptance. Nana, of course, had caught on well before him. She never said it outright, but the glint in her eye when she glanced between you and Abby made it obvious. Especially when she passed you a dish towel with a knowing little smile.

“Figure you two can handle clean-up.”

So here you were, sleeves pushed up, fingers dipped under the warm, soapy water, while Abby stood beside you, drying the plates you passed her. Her hair was styled differently today, hm. You glanced down at her face and spoke.

“You’re awful quiet,” you teased, bumping her hip lightly. “Suds got your tongue?”

Abby huffed, giving you a sideways glance. “You Just focus on not breakin’ a plate.”

You gasped at her comment. Putting on some bariatrics to get her to crack a smile. That smile you loved. The one complimented with the pink of her gums. “I’ll have you know, I’m very delicate.”

Abby hummed, clearly unconvinced. But before she could respond, you flicked a bit of water at her. She blinked as the droplets hit her cheek, then slowly turned to you, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, you’re really funny, huh?”

“Hilarious, actually.” You bite your bottom lip to not laugh. Trying to hold composure.

A second later, her hand was in the sink, long fingers sending a splash of water in your direction. The sound of splashing water echoed through the kitchen as you and her turned the simple task of dishwashing into a soak city. The first flick of water from your hand was a quiet challenge, a warning. But she was quick, her hand moving faster than you expected, sending a spray of water in your direction.

You laughed, barely managing to avoid the worst of it. “Oh, it’s on now,” you said, wiping the droplets from your cheek.

Abby’s eyes lit up, and before you could react, she’d dunked her hands into the soapy water, splashing you again. This time, it soaked the front of your shirt. Dripping down the fabric.

“Abby!” You shrieked, laughing as you swatted at her the next few minutes were chaos—water flying, dish towels being used as weak shields, your laughter mixing with hers as you both tried and failed to keep the mess to a minimum. When the counter was a disaster and your shirts were damp, Abby’s grey shirt now darkened to a new shade. You finally called a truce, breathless and with light smiles.

“Reckon Nana set us up,” Abby muttered, shaking her head as she wrung out the dish towel.

“I ‘reckon’ you’re right.” You quipped back.

She chuckled, then nudged your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here before we get wrangled into sweeping’ too.” She whispered into the hollow of your ear, lips grazing the skin.

The night air was crisp but not cold, wrapping around you both as you sat in the open trunk of Abby’s pickup. You meant to check in with her when it broke down the first time, but she clearly has it running again, so no need to mention it. You turned your gaze to the sky stretched wide above, dotted with stars, the occasional chirp of crickets filling the silence.

You absentmindedly traced the wooden charm between your fingers on your keychain, the one Abby had given you weeks ago.

“How’s your brother?” you asked, glancing over.

Abby smiled slightly. “He’s good. Annoying as hell, but good.” She seemed pleased that you were asking more about her family and life outside of being Miss Fix-It. You smirked, nodding before twirling the charm between your fingers again. When one of two questions you’d been wondering blurted out.

“…say, How’d you know my favorite color?”

She hesitated. Then, with a small huff, she leaned back on her palms, looking at you with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

“I mean, You always wear somethin’ of that color. Your curtains are the same too. Wasn’t that hard to figure out?

She said it like it was obvious, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. The thought of her noticing…really noticing. made something warm bloom in your chest. Like a tulip in the springtime. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Guess I’ll have to switch things up, keep you on your toes.”

Abby snorted. “Like hell you will.”

For a while, you both sat there, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. Abby’s gaze dropped briefly, and when you followed it, you saw where her focus had landed—her bandaged finger, the one she’d gotten a splinter in back at the stable. The stable, when you caught her looking at your slightly pouted lips.

“How’s that healing?”

“Pfft, just fine. Basically a paper cut…Thank you for checking, though. There goes that second one. You had to ask; the worst she could say was no or laugh it off, right?

“You still want me to kiss it better?” You pointed to her hand, then looked back to her face. The words rung out into the small distance of your bodies.

The space between you felt charged, thick with something neither of you had been able to name for months. The teasing had always been there, the lingering touches, the glances that lasted just a little too long. But this? This was different. This was an open door, an invitation waiting to be accepted. Abby’s head tilted—just slightly, that same motion you’d caught onto since the start. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, holding steady, searching.

She exhaled softly, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but no words came. Instead, her fingers twitched against the truck bed, like she was waging some internal battle. And then—

She moved.

Slow, hesitant at first, like she was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

Her calloused fingers found the back of your neck, warm and careful, her thumb barely brushing the edge of your jaw. There was a second just one where she hesitated, where her breath stuttered slightly like she couldn’t believe she was finally doing this. And then, the months of waiting, of tension thick enough to cut with a knife, finally took over.

Abby pulled you in, her grip firm but still giving you the choice, the chance to stop her. But you weren’t going anywhere.

Her lips met yours, slow and searching, like she was memorizing the way you felt against her. You sighed into the kiss, hands finding the rough fabric of her shirt, fisting it slightly like you needed something to ground you. She responded in kind, her fingers tightening against your skin, pulling you just a little closer.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads nearly touched, both of you breathing a little heavier than before. Abby let out a short, breathless laugh, almost like she couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. Months of waiting, months of ups and downs, months of wanting to close that gap.

Her gaze flickered to her finger, still wrapped in its makeshift bandage, then back to you,

“Much better,” she murmured.

Time seemed to still as that weight that had been pressing on your chest for months, thick, unspoken, and suffocating…seemed to melt away the second Abby’s lips met yours. It was like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finally stretching out sore muscles after a long day’s work. The tension, the wondering, the stolen glances that never felt like enough, all of it moved to replaced by something …warm and steady. Relief. Certainty.

It wasn’t just the kiss, it was the knowing. Knowing that you hadn’t imagined it, that she’d felt it too. That you hadn’t been foolish for wanting, for hoping. It settled in your chest like a quiet reassurance, like something that had always been meant to happen,

…Just waiting for the right moment.

Ty for reading babes! 💐 whew

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