by Lynn Lorenz
“So, let’s talk.” Brian wanted to tell Rush about his decision to change his life.
“Okay.” They continued to swing and watch the sun set behind the low hills. Rush wrapped his arm around Brian, and Brian allowed himself to lean against him, content to enjoy the quiet moment, gazing out at the ranch, the sky, the shadows growing under the trees.
“I have to tell you something, Rush.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Rush stared at him in mock horror.
Brian laughed. This was the Rush he loved. “No. I’m on the pill.”
They snorted.
“I joined the Spring Lake PD today. I report at the beginning of the month.”
Chapter Twenty
Rush pulled his hand from Brian and stared at him.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Brian?” His heart thudded like a bass drum.
“I interviewed today with the chief. He hired me.” Brian seemed so elated.
Rush should have been happy, but fear filled him instead.
“But, your business? Your house?” Rush stuttered.
“I have a few jobs I need to finish, but they’ll be done in a week or two. I’m going to keep the house, just rent it out.”
Rush didn’t speak, didn’t want to ask where Brian planned on living. If he moved to Spring Lake, Rush would be able to see him all the time, and that was good. They could sneak around, but eventually, people would find out they were lovers, and that was bad. Nothing stayed a secret around here for long.
Everyone would know.
“I’m going to find a house to rent.” Brian seemed to be waiting for Rush to say something, but Rush didn’t trust himself to say the right thing.
Brian stood and stared at him, waiting. Seemed not saying anything had been the wrong thing. Rush was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
“I’ll see you around.” Disgusted by Rush’s silence, by his refusal to come out, Brian walked to the end of the porch then halted. What had he expected? “By the way, I told Whittaker I was gay. I wanted to be upfront about it.”
Rush surged to his feet. “What the fuck? Why did you do that? Once everyone sees you with me, they’ll assume I’m gay, too.”
“You are gay.” Brian struggled to keep his voice level. “Something you keep forgetting when it’s convenient.”
“I can’t forget it. You keep reminding me.”
“Someone has to.” Brian turned away.
“Why did you have to ruin everything?” Rush yelled.
The last straw snapped and Brian whirled around. In two strides, he was at Rush, his arm jerked back then exploded forward, smashing into Rush’s mouth. The cowboy was knocked to his ass on the porch, his lip torn and bleeding.
Brian shook his hand, the knuckles scraped raw. “I ruined? You stupid, selfish bastard,” he growled as he stood over Rush. “I offered you everything. A life, my heart, forever. And you spit on it.”
Staring up at him, Rush held his hand over his mouth. Blood oozed from between his fingers.
“Shit.” Brian licked the back of his hand and grimaced at the metallic tang on his tongue. He’d lost control, and that had never happened to him before he’d met Rush. But the big man had pushed him, had driven him crazy, had hurt him so bad that he’d struck out. Leaving him breathless and wanting Rush. Brian’s cock swelled.
What was wrong with him? He wanted to fall on top of Rush, press him into the wooden floor, crush his mouth down on Rush’s swollen lips and fuck him until Rush told the world, admitted to everyone, that he was gay and Brian’s lover.
“Goddamn you.” Brian spun, fists still clenched, and headed down the steps. He needed to cool off, needed to get the smell of Rush’s blood out of his nostrils, and get the need for Rush’s body beneath his out of his mind.
Taking long, striding, furious steps, he followed a worn path in the low grass around the house, past the barn, and kept marching. Tears blurred his vision but he didn’t care. On autopilot, he headed as far from Rush as he could get, swallowing great gulps of air into his burning lungs.
* * * *
Too stunned to move, Rush lay on the porch. He pulled his hand from his mouth and stared at it.
Blood.
Testing his lip with his tongue, he felt the cut. It was already swelling. He pushed to his feet and steadied himself on the railing, his head still swimming from the blow.
He’d deserved that. And more.
Rush staggered into the ranch house and made his way to the kitchen. He turned on the water full blast, cupped his hands and splashed it on this face, washing the blood away.
Then he got ice from the freezer and wrapped it in a towel. He slumped onto a kitchen chair, held the ice pack to his mouth, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He had no idea how long he’d sat there, not thinking, wallowing in the pain of his busted lip and his shattered life.
“What the hell happened to you?”
He cracked open one eye. Manuel stood with his hands on his hips, head cocked like a feisty gray-haired rooster.
“It didn’t go like I planned.”
“No shit.” Manuel pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “Where’s Brian?”
Rush shrugged. “Gone.”
“His truck is still outside.”
“I didn’t see. I was lying on my ass, looking up at the stars circling the porch ceiling at the time.”
“Undoubtedly deserved.”
“What are you doing back here?”
“Forgot my list for the feed supplies.” He held up a piece of paper.
Rush sighed. “I’ve really fucked this up, Manuel.”
“Fucking is easy, Rush. Relationships are hard. Don’t guess you’ve had much practice with those.” Manuel stared at him, his gaze boring into Rush’s heart.
“Yeah, I’ve got the fucking down. And I’m a master at the fucking up part.” He tried to laugh but it pulled at his lip, so he replaced the ice pack.
Manuel peered out of the window. “It’s dark. Any idea where he might have gone?”
“No.” Rush stood, staring through the panes of glass. “He could be anywhere.”
“We’ll give him another thirty minutes or so, then we’d better go look for him.”
“You go on home. I’ll find him. Apologize, grovel…” Rush muttered. “I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”
Manuel slapped him on the back. “You’ll get it right. If not this time, the next.”
Rush shook his head. “There’ll never be a next time. Brian was it. The one.”
Without replying, Manuel left Rush alone in the kitchen, staring out at the dark.
* * * *
Brian swore and kicked another rock, sending it flying into the night. Each one was a tiny Rush being kicked out of Brian’s life with the pointed end of his boots. He’d been walking for a while, each step taking him farther and farther from Rush, and that was just peachy damn keen with him.
The rock vanished into the blackness around him. The ping as it landed broke the night noises. It tumbled along the ground then was silent. He stopped and searched around.
Where the hell was he? The sky was moonless and the stars weren’t out yet. How did it get so dark so fast? Must be the country. No lights from the city, nor from the highway. No lights at all.
He turned in a slow circle. Not even lights from the ranch house.
Great. Just fucking great. He was lost.
If he just followed the path back, he’d be fine. If he could see it. Squinting in the darkness, he strained to find some outline of the worn path he’d followed.
He couldn’t just stand here all night.
Brian started walking back in the direction he’d figured he’d come from. Fifteen minutes later, he was still surrounded by the night.
“Fuck!” This wasn’t cool. He could barely see his way now.
He didn’t let a little thing like darkness bother him—he just kept going, marching as if he’d had order
s from military command. March or die.
He stumbled, losing his footing on a scattering of loose rocks. Arms flailing as he twisted, he went down on one knee and pain shot up his leg. With a useless attempt at righting himself, he went down on his side in the dirt.
The ground beneath him was cold, hard and unyielding. Above, the sky was so dark he couldn’t tell if he was floating or not.
The pain in his knee throbbed and he tried to straighten it. He kicked a large rock with his heel and it shifted out of the way.
There were some sounds he would’ve recognized in a heartbeat. His lover’s voice. The cocking of a pistol. The warning rattle of a snake.
Snake. Primeval, irrational fear. Naked terror.
The rattling filled the night, like someone’s radio turned up too loud, and his heart was the pounding bass. Warmth drained from Brian’s body, disappearing as if it had been sucked out of him. All that was left was cold terror.
The rattle lessened.
Brian took a tentative breath.
Silence.
He drew his good leg up and angry rattling broke the night.
He froze. The rattling stopped.
His dream came back to him. The terror, the night sky, the inability to move.
All that was missing was Rush trying to kill him.
And he’d given Rush the motive when he’d punched him.
Brian closed his eyes, got control of his runaway heart and his imagination. He swallowed but there wasn’t enough moisture left in his mouth.
He tried to move his other leg but the pain wasn’t going to allow it. Even the small movement set off the rattler. He stilled.
How long could he lie here with a snake curled up next to him?
Maybe it would move off. Get hungry and leave. Chase down some poor field mouse or a lizard. It couldn’t be interested in him, could it?
The adrenaline surged and he fought the impulse to jump up, run and never look back. His muscles tightened, ready to take flight.
No fucking way. He didn’t even know where it hid. Bringing his urge to run under control, he held still.
Somewhere near his feet was a snake. Left or right?
He raised his arm on the right and the rattler sounded.
Okay. Right side—check.
He inched his arm back down without setting off the snake.
If he just kept still, he’d be fine. The ground grew colder and a shiver ran through him. How cold did it get out here at night? Couldn’t be any colder than in the city.
Sixties, tops.
Now all he had to do was wait until Rush showed up and shot him.
* * * *
Rush stood on the porch and stared into the night. He switched to night vision and scanned the area around the ranch.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Brian!”
No answer, not even the dogs. Where were the dogs? Probably off chasing possums and raccoons in one of the outer pastures.
Thirty minutes had come and gone.
He moved off the porch onto the steps.
In the distance, a series of howls broke the quiet.
Coyotes.
Rush turned around, went inside to the gun rack and took down his rifle.
* * * *
No fucking way. Coyotes? Brian groaned.
This was too much. Really. Like some bad B movie with that second-rate action hero, Bruce somebody.
Brian laughed.
The snake rattled.
The coyotes joined in.
Are we having fun yet?
He’d take Rush with the rifle right about now.
* * * *
Rush followed the tracks of Brian’s boots past the barn. They came and went as the ground hardened into packed earth and mixed with the prints of hooves and paws. Rifle slung over his shoulder, he scanned the night and kept going.
The coyotes sounded like they were hunting. A small pack, maybe five or six. They could bring down a stray calf, or a sick steer, but a man?
If he were on the ground. Injured. Unconscious.
Rush picked up his pace, broke into a trot, his long legs eating up the distance. Breathless, he paused at the top of a rise and looked down into the wash. On his left in the distance, the coyotes were gathered, yipping and working up their courage.
There on the ground lay a body. With his heart in his throat, he slid down the slope, reached the bottom and stalked forward.
He called out, “Brian?”
“Rush?” Brian squinted but all he could see was a tall dark shape moving toward him.
It had to be Rush. Unarmed. He let out a sigh. “Wait, don’t come closer. There’s a snake somewhere next to me. It’s too dark for me to see it. On the right. A rattler.”
Rush froze. With a quick movement, he swung what could only be a rifle off his shoulder, leveled it at waist height and pointed it at Brian.
Brian’s heart stopped. This was it. His premonition come true.
Rush was going to kill him.
“Don’t move.”
“Rush. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. Really. I never should have punched you. You don’t have to do this.” Brian held out his hand to ward off Rush and the snake’s death song filled the air.
“Don’t fucking move.” Rush gritted out between clenched teeth.
“Rush. Don’t. Please,” Brian’s voice cracked as he begged for his life.
“Trust me.”
“What?”
“Just for once, trust me.” Rush brought the rifle to his shoulder. His actions calm, sure, steady.
Trust this man, let go of his fear. Of his vision. Brian closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and nodded once. “Okay.” He held still, watched and waited for the shot.
The crack of the shot exploded and the muzzle flare blinded Brian. The ground near his calf shook. The snake blew into the air and landed across his legs in a tangle of thick, heavy loops.
Brian screamed and flinched. He tried to peddle backward, away from the snake, but his bad leg wouldn’t let him.
Rush dropped the rifle, ran to Brian, grabbed the snake and tossed it into the night.
“You’re all right, darlin’,” Rush crooned as he gathered Brian into his arms.
Brian grabbed him hard and held on.
“How did you…? It’s pitch dark.” Brian was so cold and he couldn’t control the shaking that racked his body.
“You’re not the only one with powers. Can you stand now?”
“Not sure. I really wrenched my knee.”
Rush pulled Brian to his feet and let him rest his weight on his shoulder.
“How the hell did you make that shot? I couldn’t even see far enough to know where the snake was and it was next to me.” Brian shook his head as he tested putting weight on his knee. He grimaced but it wasn’t impossible.
“I can see in the dark.”
Brian shifted his grip around Rush’s waist. “You could have told me.”
“I was going to. Just wasn’t sure when or how.” They began hobbling back to the house.
“How about when Mitchell and I were talking about our powers?”
“Yeah. I was afraid you’d think I was a freak or something.”
“Christ, Weston.” Brian shook his head. “You really suck at this relationship thing.”
“I know. Let’s get you back to the ranch house.” He started back at a steady pace as Brian hobbled along next to him.
“So that’s how you saw me behind the dumpster. And in my garden.”
“Yep.”
“I can’t believe even after I told you about my abilities you didn’t say something. I trusted you, but you couldn’t trust me.” Brian didn’t want to admit how much that hurt him.
“I was afraid to lose you.”
“You’re an asshole, Weston,” Brian muttered.
“Yep. Think we’ve got that firmly established.”
They were silent the rest of the way, until they reached the front of the
house.
Brian broke from Rush, limping on one leg. “I’m going home, Rush. I have a long drive.”
“You’re leaving?” Rush leaned the rifle against the porch wall.
“Yeah. Like I said, it’s a long drive back.”
“You could stay here tonight.” Rush rubbed the back of his neck.
“What would the neighbors say?” Brian shook his head. “I promised you I wouldn’t out you. I’m not going to do it. It’s your decision.”
“Brian…” Rush reached for him, but Brian took two halting steps back.
“I’ve got to go. Thank you for saving my life, cowboy.” He turned and limped over to the truck, opened the door and slid inside.
The door closed and he turned the key. The Tahoe roared to life as he hit his lights, illuminating Rush. The cowboy looked done in. His lip was about two sizes bigger and there was a dark spot, probably a bruise, on his chin.
Brian put the Tahoe into gear, backed out then headed down the road.
He glanced into the rearview mirror. Rush stood in the yard, hands in the back pockets of his jeans, watching him leave. For a split second, Brian thought Rush might run after him, call out, wave, something to signal Brian to come back. That he was ready.
That he loved Brian enough to come out of the closet. To step out of the dark and into the rest of his life.
Brian stared forward, concentrating on navigating the dark road.
He flicked his gaze to the mirror for one last look.
Rush climbed the steps of the porch and broke Brian’s heart.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I’m so nervous, Mitch. What if she doesn’t like me?” Sammi twisted his fingers as he, Mitchell and Brian headed up the sidewalk to his grandmother’s house. This was what he’d wanted ever since he’d learned he might have a chance to find his family, but now that he was here, he was terrified.
“Don’t worry, babe. She doesn’t have to love you, just meet you. And you don’t have to love her either.” Mitchell’s words reassured him but it was Mitchell’s feelings of well-being and calm washing over him that really helped settle his nerves.
Brian rang the bell. The door opened and Mrs. Waters stood there. His grandmother. His mother’s mother.
