HERS |Tris Morgan x Jack Marston |Book III of HIS Series

"Hope For The Future"

Arthur wakes up earlier than usual, slipping his arm from around you he pulls on his shirt and jeans. Silently kissing your forehead he makes his way from the room to head out to the horses.

I gotta clear my head.

He thinks as he pulls on his hat and heads towards the stalls. He makes a point of not looking at the old barn, not wanting to resurface the memories.

Could just tear it down. Blow it up with dynamite.

He shakes the thoughts from his brain, pushing into the stables. He grabs a pitchfork from the wall intending to sink into his morning chores alone but instead, he finds John already tending to the horses.

Arthur sighs.

There goes my peace.

"The hell are you doing up?" He leans over the stall plucking up a piece of hay and twirling it between his fingers mindlessly.

"Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Same."

The tension hangs thick between the pair as John continues to work. 

"You eat already?" Arthur swallows thickly his throat suddenly dry.

The scrape of the pitchfork slows, "Not yet. Which horse you wanna work on today?"

"New Mustang?"

John nods and Arthur pushes away, grateful for the distraction. He moves to grab a brush and begins to work on the horse's coat, the two men working in silence.

After a few minutes, John speaks up, his voice low and hesitant. "Look, Arthur, about what happened..."

Arthur freezes, his hand stilling on the horse's flank. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check, remembering his promise to you. "Don't wanna talk about it."

John nods understandingly, sensing Arthur's discomfort. The two continue to work around the stables. Arthur readying the horse and John clearing the stall. The only sounds in the barn are the soft shuffling of hooves and the swishing of brushes against the horse's coat.

After a few minutes, John breaks the silence again, this time with a lighter tone. "So uh...since we're kinda brothers. Does that um... make 'em cousins?"

The brush tumbles from Arthur's fingers. "I said I don't wanna talk about it." he huffs, bending low to retrieve the fallen item. "For once in your life can ya listen?"

John's eyes nearly roll from his head in frustration as he slams the pitchfork down making the horse and Arthur flinch.

"18 years Arthur!"

Throwing his brother a pointed look he smoothes a hand calmly down the Mustang's neck "Easy there boy," he soothes, "He ain't gonna hurt ya," Sure that the horse isn't going to bolt he scowls at John,  "The hell ya talking about?"

"18 years and you still haven't learned a damn thing..."

"What are you talking about, John?" he enunciates each word as if it was taking every ounce of his strength to maintain his patience.

John takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'm talking about how you always shut down when things get uncomfortable. You never want to talk about your feelings or what's really going on. You just bottle everything up and hope it goes away. But it never does, does it?"

Arthur stares at John, his mind racing with emotions he's been trying to suppress for too long.

"What do you want me to say, John? That I was wrong for pointing a gun at your son? Because I already know that. I just don't know how to fix things now."