#soldwrecked

keeping a secret like this from their daughters feels unnatural. there's a countless amount of information that they don't need to know and johanna doesn't like keeping the extent of her first marriage from laura and art doesn't like answering questions about lily's mother, the news of her growing bump is different. they hadn't exactly counted on having another child immediately after moving back to new york. this baby won't be any less loved than their sisters. ( laura and canary weren't exactly, well, planned either. ) johanna can already imagine how the older girls' faces will brighten at the news of another sibling, the same way they did when they were told about canary. perhaps, they'll even have a brother this time.

more than anything, johanna's beyond grateful again that she's doing this with art.

It really was something, though, settling down around a fire after a long day of hard work, watching as the sunset painted the sky like he painted canvases at home. It was tranquil, really, sitting in the stillness as the sounds of night settled in around them, with the lowing of the cattle just a short distance away.

He took off his hat and sat it by his side with a groan, running his fingers through his damp hair. He hadn't been at this long, though, and he still knew little about his companion, other than that they shared a name. He leaned back to lay flat on his back, twirling a piece of grass between his fingers as he looked up at the stars. "S-so... d'ya got anybody at home?" He tried to sound casual, even if his voice shook a bit. Not that he was nervous... necessarily... he just didn't want to make a mistake and mess things up with this cowboy before he'd even been able to befriend him.

       Davey BLINKS.

   Admittedly, it takes him a moment to take in what Jack’s saying, not because he’s not listening, but it doesn’t make much sense to him. If anything, Davey is the one with abandonment issues in this...friendship? relationship? ( he doesn’t want to think TOO HARD about that term ), though he’d never say it out loud.

book open in front of her, she almost doesn't notice when art comes inside. it's becoming a sort of rhythm for her to come over in the afternoons. if he's busy, she knows the code to get in so she doesn't have to wait outside. it only took poor art several attempts at convincing her for her to reluctantly agree to have his password ( the last thing she wants is to intrude ). to have a habit like this again is nice. especially when it's with someone. johanna doesn't do well on her own. when she comes to reality and realizes she isn't alone any longer, she looks up at him.

❝ how did your practice go today? ❞ closing her bed and setting it back in her little purse ( since he has quite the schedule she's learned to take a book over with her; now the book just lives in her bag, going wherever she does ). ❝ i thought about calling you to make sure i was still welcome -- ❞ she never makes calls. not to anyone else. ❝ but i figured you wouldn't be able to pick up anyway so i didn't so i hope you don't mind that i - ❞

and he's shirtless. johanna freezes, eyes widening. oh, no. as soon as the world feels like it's unfrozen, she slams her hands over her eyes. she should not have seen that. in other contexts, she's seen him shirtless before yes, but that was for other reasons. she was looking over something or making sure his breastbone was broken after getting hit with a tennis ball or something strictly medical related. this is entirelly different. she saw him and infringed on his modesty and he'll hate her forever. she turns herself around.

@soldwrecked

The sun is creeping in slowly through the front windows of the small ranch house. It's Sunday, the day to rest and simply be. Spot has to admit, she likes New Mexico. The work is different on the ranch she and Jack have been hired by than work in the city. They go into the city often enough to help sell off the products of the ranch, but there's a certain peace being on the land together.

there were parties every night. fireworks that made her eardrums rattle. even from across the bay, she could hear the excited shrills of a dance. but what she looked forward to most of all were the birds that were released. the way they fly into the moon made her wonder if she would be able to do the same thing one day. with such celebrations going on, she had the sinking feeling that it wasn't art behind it although he lived in that house. he didn't like parties the last time she knew him. it would be someone else.

it's foolish to be jealous of whoever this faceless person was. here she is, sitting on art's bed as if she always shares it with him. johanna isn't the person he goes to bed with every night. there's someone else. someone for the parties. it isn't exactly jealousy, she thinks. a mere curiosity.

when her hand trailed over the shirts sitting on his shelf -- the silk and satin and cotton and wool -- she wondered if she even had any clothes that were more expensive than this. johanna has to bite back a smile, all seriousness, as she watches art try them on for her now. she sits on the corner of his bed. dressed only in one of the shirts that fits more like an extremely short dress on her more than a blouse, she sits on the corner of his bed.