My Cowboy Freedom

by Z. A. Maxfield

  He smiled at that. “They’ve probably already”—even pointing his finger up seemed to exhaust him—“uploaded.”

  “Fuck them.”

  He lifted his brows.

  “Seriously. Fuck them. I’m here for you. What do you need?”

  He swallowed so hard his whole head bobbed. He rubbed his lips together.

  He really was spacey as hell. No wonder Elena needed one of the hands.

  “Shall we see about getting you to the car?”

  “I have clothes.” He nudged his backpack with his free hand. “Back off, Maisy.”

  The dog obediently stepped over his legs to stand at attention by his side.

  “That’s one hell of a dog you have there. You broke her heart locking her out like that. You shouldn’t do that. A loyal soldier is worth more than that.”

  “I know. She’s too forgiving too. I don’t deserve . . . ” Tears tracked down his cheeks.

  “Oh, now. None of that. You can see she’s happiest when she can do something for you.” I understood her completely too. “It’s not just about you. She’s got a job, you know? She likes that.”

  He unzipped his pack and started pulling things out. Neatly packed, there were snacks, medications, a notebook and a change of clothes. The clothes had been vacuum-sealed by one of those machines you see on infomercials. He handed the bag to me and I tore it open while he started to strip.

  I looked over just as he reached behind himself to pull off his T-shirt. I thought I was prepared to see that, but the breadth of his shoulders, the shadow of musculature under his skin, was so goddamn hot. Especially for me, because I’ve always had a kink for big guys.

  For a few heartbeats, I worried I was going to screw things up, either by looking too long, or touching him the wrong way. But because he needed help, I shut off all my worries and simply got to work.

  I let him peel off his clothes, and when he dropped them I folded them and put them into the plastic laundry bag he gave me. He had wet wipes, and while he cleaned himself, I set out new socks, new underwear, a pair of gray sweats, and another T-shirt, this time, a plain white Hanes, Beefy-style, washed to a softness that probably felt great.

  “You always have to carry all this?”

  He shrugged, shivering. Maybe it was a kind of shock. He was awful pale. “Put your head between your knees.”

  “I’m okay.” He leaned his head back on the wall again. “Just groggy. It’ll pass.”

  “How long does it take, normally?”

  “You got somewhere to be?”

  “Well, shit.” I dragged my fingers through my hair. “Nope. I do not.”

  He glanced out the window, where the headlights from a car cruising across the parking lot flared and then faded. He braced his elbows on his knees and leaned his forehead on his fists.

  “It’s called aftermath. I’m in pain. I’m nearly helpless, I’m so weak. My blood sugar bottoms out when the seizure is especially violent.”

  I had the urge to apologize, but figured it would be unwelcome, so I nodded.

  “I’ll need you to help me walk to the car.”

  “You want me to roll you out in the pastor’s big leather office chair?” I asked. “’Cause I can’t lift your ass.”

  He laughed at that.

  “I’m so tired.” He sat up like a teddy bear, legs outstretched, staring at his shoes but making no move to reach for them.

  I crawled over and slipped a sock on one of his bare feet, and then his shoe, tucking the laces in so he wouldn’t trip. He moved his other foot closer, so I did that one too. It was like dressing a big, sad marionette—one whose strings had been cut at the whim of a trickster god.

  I got to my feet and held my hand out.

  Maisy gave a suspicious bark but she didn’t charge. I lifted him carefully to his feet. He was huge. If he’d been unconscious, it would have taken three guys to carry him.

  I sort of propped him up so he wouldn’t fall as I leaned over to pick up his pack. He tried to grab it from me but missed.

  “I’ll carry—”

  “Shh. Dizzy.” For a second he leaned against the door. I didn’t give him a choice. I carried his pack.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I will be. Give me a sec.”

  I draped his arm over my shoulder. “Take your time. Lean on me.”

  He breathed in and out audibly. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “I pissed myself.”

  The words felt booby-trapped. “So?”

  “So you think I’ll ever live that down with those—those—”

  “You think those kids out there will care about this next week? That they’ll even remember it? As soon as Kim Kardashian posts another selfie, no one will even remember. You’re not big news, bubba. I hate to tell you.”

  “They were laughing at me.” Rock’s naked pain made everything worse. “Taking pictures. Every time they see me I’ll be the guy who pissed himself. How would you like that?”

  “My friend ’Nando says pissing yourself with fear is very freeing.”

  “He did not.” Rock opened his eyes fully to glare at me.

  “You calling me a liar?”

  “What kind of saying is that? It’s grim. It’s like saying you’re not a man until someone kicks your balls out through your nose.”

  I grimaced at the image. “I think what he meant was that you don’t learn who you are if things are too easy.”

  “I know who I am.” His huff of laughter sounded strained. “The problem is everyone wants me to be someone else.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You and me both.”

  As we exited, he lurched a little drunkenly. Elena shot me a wan smile. The Deputy left last, after the EMTs, after the late-arriving parents finally came for their kids.

  We were the last ones left, standing in the parking lot with the pastor and his wife.

  That was the world’s shortest, least festive, receiving line. Ever.

  “My word, you and your family will certainly be in our thoughts and prayers this evening, Rockne McLean.” Cecilia smiled sweetly, even as she kept Rock at a careful distance. “We just love you to bits.”

  Rock told the lady, “Thanks.”

  While the pastor bobbed his head, nodding, he shook my hand.

  “And don’t you worry the teensiest bit about tonight’s little mishap,” she continued. “Everything cleans up with a little bleach. We look forward to hearing you share your talent with us again next week.”

  In contrast to his wife, Aiden Everett swept Rock into a full-body prayer-hug. Elena raised her hands so I put mine up once I figured out what was expected.

  We were supposed to put our hands on Rock in prayer, I guessed, but he stiffened, and I could see he didn’t like it.

  “Rockne Montana McLean, the Lord loves you so very much. He has given you your gifts and your trials because he knows you are mighty enough to bear them. I believe in you, Rockne. We all do. Blessed is the name of the Savior, amen.”

  “Praise Him.” Cecilia lowered her hands. She was watching me and Rock awful closely.

  Maybe she had some kind of heightened gaydar, because I could have sworn she narrowed her eyes when she looked between us, as if she were seeing the invisible attraction I’d felt from the beginning with Rock.

  I kept my face blank. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Rock’s reply was muted and maybe it wasn’t any of my business anyway. But his cheeks glowed pink as he averted his eyes.

  Oh, he was grateful, all right. And woozy and a little too interested in holding on to me, and Mrs. Church Lady was watching us like a cat watching a mouse hole.

  On the inside, you learn to read people pretty fast. You can spot givers and t
akers and scam artists. You know who the victims are, and who has the juice.

  Inside, deciding who to ride with is a matter of life and death.

  Outside, I probably needed a road map or a secret decoder ring, because as far as I could tell, nothing was straightforward.

  All these people said they just wanted what was best for Rock, but as far as I could tell, no one cared too much about his opinion on the matter.

  Maybe I was too tired to think clearly by that time, but Rock—whose blank, pained expression as I helped him into the back of the truck–brought out all my protective instincts. He needed someone to stand by him for real.

  Everyone had warned me off him. Everyone.

  But I rarely did what people told me to do.

  There are all kinds of prisons.

  I decided then and there to help Rock out of his.

  Chapter 16

  Rock

  I dozed with Maisy in the backseat of the truck, while Elena and Sky rode up front. As we bumped along the highway, I had to swallow hard to keep from getting sick. The car’s window felt cool against my skin. It felt good, so I leaned my temple against it, drifting between sleep and waking.

  If only I’d been quick enough, I could have come up with some reason for Sky to ride in the back with me. If I’d said I needed his help with Maisy, we could have talked on the way home. I should have asked him to put my guitar in the front seat. Pretended I was worried about the instrument or something.

  But Elena had been watching me for any sign I was too interested in our new hand, and Sky . . .

  Sky had let his head lie back on the seat. His hat had fallen into the foot well next to me. His hair was a sticky, matted mess. From what I could tell, he was well and truly wrung out.

  Of course the pungent scent coming from Sky’s clothes had been saying it all along—Sky had been out on the trail since before dawn. He should have been allowed to shower and go to bed. Instead, he’d been dragged into Bitterroot to play nursemaid to me.

  I tried to see Elena’s face in the rearview mirror but it was too dark. Under the circumstances, the best thing I could have done was get some shut-eye, but I couldn’t stop staring at Skyler’s profile.

  The way the moonlight fell over his face—the way it dripped along his nose and eyelashes like icing, the way it deepened the contrast between the planes and valleys of his face, making him look craggy and rough. His face was striped by light with every oncoming car, by shadow with every utility pole we passed.

  “You doing okay?” Elena turned toward me. “Temperature okay?”

  “Tired.” Maisy nudged under my wrist. She could be very proactive about petting.

  “Did you test?” Elena asked.

  “Yes.” Keeping records of an episode is part of the package. I record what I can on my phone, and then make a written record later, for the Doc.

  “Doc will want to take a look at your meds again.”

  “Boss says I can’t go to Doc Winters anymore because of Ryder.”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “Are you diabetic?” Apparently Skyler wasn’t asleep after all.

  “No.” My voice came out sharper than I’d meant it to. “Not yet anyway.”

  “Because of Rocky’s seizures,” said Elena. “He needs a glucose supplement sometimes.”

  “Speaking of which . . .” I pulled a couple of protein bars from my backpack and tore into one. I held the second out to Sky. “Want one?”

  “Only if you don’t need it.”

  “Take it.” I shook my head and pushed it toward him again. He glanced at his hand.

  “Can I have a wipe first?”

  “Sure.” Our fingers brushed when he took it from me and my dick tried to give a little shimmy.

  We ate in silence, but after a few minutes, saliva filled my mouth.

  Shit. “Stop the car.”

  Elena pulled over and because she’s thoughtful, she put the truck in reverse, so I’d have plenty of light to puke by. “Need anything else?”

  Shaking my head, I lurched out onto the side of the road and lost what little I’d eaten. The front passenger door opened a crack, but a sharp word from Elena stopped Skyler from getting out. I hung on to the fender, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. Sweat dried on my forehead while I waited to see if the show was going to have an encore.

  Inside the car, Elena and Sky argued. Maisy watched me anxiously through the back window. I’d heard it all before, so it didn’t surprise me to hear Elena call me “a grown man with a complicated medical problem” who would not appreciate being coddled.

  She stared straight ahead, waiting for me to clean myself up and come back. Elena wouldn’t consider intruding on my privacy at this time and she trained the hands to stay away too.

  At the same time, Sky’s worried gaze sought me out via the side mirror. His expression matched Maisy’s: worry and compassion and something else, something more than both—the desire, the need to do something. For Maisy, the yearning to get out of that truck made her ears twitch and her body tense up. She whined and wiggled and woofed at me.

  Sky just sat there with his heart in his eyes.

  I didn’t want Sky to see me like this. How could he ever act normal around me when he’d seen me act like a freak?

  But then the passenger door opened and his feet slid to the ground. I was torn. I wanted his attention, but not his pity. And now he was going to pay attention to me because he pitied me.

  “What do you want?” I snapped at him.

  “Gotta drain the python, man. Chill.” He passed me and pissed in the red glow of the truck’s taillights.

  He was real decent about the whole pissing thing too. He hid his business so Elena wouldn’t accidentally see anything untoward in the rearview mirror. He took his time.

  Apparently his “python” was connected to an underground firehose.

  When he finally shook off, he made a show of zipping discreetly and scrubbing his hands on the crumpled-up remains of the wipe I’d given him earlier.

  Then he leaned against the truck, eyeing me like, Oh hey. Didn’t see you there . . .

  It would have been funny if it wasn’t kinda sad.

  “You been inside a while, huh?” I asked. Probably so long you’ve got no idea you just pissed in full view of Elena’s backup camera.

  “Eight years.” His gaze flicked to my face. “How come?”

  I couldn’t tell him. I just couldn’t. “No reason.”

  He leaned over and whispered, “Don’t they have a group for twentysomethings at your church?”

  I didn’t understand. “How come?”

  “Those kids seemed a lot younger than you, is all.” His brows drew together. “Can’t you go to Bible Study with people your age?”

  “No.” Nobody thinks I fit in with the adults. “I go to regular worship services on Sundays. Why?”

  “I need to find a church, but I’m too old for a group like that—”

  “BS for singles is what you want, and that meets Friday nights. You’d like that. There’s usually something social going on after. A movie or something. Tad goes sometimes, or I’m sure the boss would let you take one of the ranch trucks.”

  “That’s not really what I’m looking for.” His smile was bittersweet. “You don’t go for that single stuff? I mean, I get why you wouldn’t. But you could. If only because they’re your own age.”

  “No.” I call it BS for a reason.

  “You guys coming or what?” Elena called out. “I’d like to get to bed by midnight.”

  “You take the front this time,” Sky jerked his head toward the passenger side. “You can push the seat back all the way and stretch out. I’ll sit behind Elena. Will Maisy be okay with that?”

  “She’ll be fine as long as she can see me and get an occasional scratch
.” At least one of us could enjoy the ride

  I reclined the passenger seat as far as I could and put my arm over the console, letting my hand fall to the scruff of Maisy’s neck. She lay curled contentedly on Sky’s feet, occasionally opening one eye or the other, her dog eyebrows lifting curiously, eyes on me. After a while, Sky sat forward, watching her watch me.

  “Maisy is relaxing now.” I said. “You can put your hand out for her to sniff if you want. She’s never officially off duty, but there are times when she gets to rest or play.”

  Sky scratched behind her ears, but Maisy wasn’t in the mood to relax her guard. She accepted his touch tentatively, keeping most of her attention focused on me.

  “What’s the matter, Maize?” My singsong voice made her tilt her head. I found a treat in my backpack and gave it to her. “I’m all right.”

  When I laid my hand on her back again, my fingers brushed Sky’s. This time, his warm brown eyes found mine and held them shyly, stealing my breath.

  Just looking at him felt daring.

  It was almost scary, the way his eyes met mine right there in front of Elena and Maisy and the God I didn’t believe in anymore . . .

  I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t blink. He didn’t let me see his thoughts. He’d gone blank in that way he had, but he kept his level gaze locked with mine while the night sped past around us.

  My chest tightened, like all the air was being squeezed from my lungs. Finally, I dropped my gaze to the place on Maisy’s golden fur where our hands were touching.

  With only the moonlight and Maisy to see us, he let his hand glide slowly against mine. Back and forth. A gentle caress. It wasn’t sexual and it wasn’t weird. It was the same kind of comfort Maisy offered me. Shared space, shared skin, and body heat.

  Breath fell from my lips like a silent cry of sheer, blessed relief.

  I am not alone.

  The truck’s tires crunched when Elena turned onto the ranch road.

  “There we go,” Elena broke the silent communication between us. Our hands drifted apart. “Almost home, boys. Thank you again, Skyler. Bet you’ll be glad to get some shut-eye. I’ll tell the boys you need a couple extra hours in the morning, my fault.”