I carried his warmth. I ached where he’d taken me.
Memories of him, of sex and sweetness hummed in my belly, confusing my body, keeping me half-aroused and deliriously, stupidly happy, even when soggy tree branches whipped my face and thorns scraped my legs.
A whistle from Tad caught my attention. I wheeled Ogre toward the sound.
“Get those guys,” he pointed to a cow and her bull calf, which had fled into the waist-high chaparral on the right side of the sodden path.
I turned Ogre and we went after them, slipping perilously. I prayed and cursed and kept my seat by the power of will alone, but I got ’em going in the right direction again. When we rejoined the rest of the herd I caught up with Robbie and Foz.
Foz jerked his chin in greeting. “You look positively disreputable, Skyler.”
He was right. I was mud-spattered. Crusty with sweat. One big ache.
I winced. “Sorry.”
Foz paused to take in the view from the hillock we’d crested. Even though the sky was black with clouds, you could see water building up in the deeply gouged grooves of the earth. Fast-moving, churning, dangerous runoff.
My folks had warned me about flash floods. Now I saw them with new eyes. They were far more treacherous than I’d imagined.
“We’ll have to check the culverts by the ranch house.” Foz turned and let out a piercing whistle. Tad waved his hat to signal Foz he understood.
“Normally, Rock takes care of that. We need to head over and make sure they stay clear.”
The rest of the hands had to assess the stock, noting individual numbers, checking the animals over to make sure they didn’t have any obvious signs of distress or disease.
Foz turned his horse for home, waving for me to go with him.
Ogre followed Foz’s mount along the trail, avoiding slippery mud where he could.
Things were agonizing between me and Foz. I couldn’t look him in the eye, not when he knew I’d been with Rock the night before.
Worse than that, Rock had pulled some strings to get me the morning off work, which probably cost me points with the other hands.
No one said anything, but it wasn’t hard to guess how they’d feel if they knew I was getting special treatment.
“I, uh—” Foz glanced over. “For what it’s worth, Elena did everything she could. I mean, she and Chandler tried to—”
“Sure.” I nodded like I knew exactly what he was going to say. “How long have I got before I have to leave?” I asked.
I understood. Times were hard. Things change.
“What?” Foz’s brows drew together. “You don’t have to leave. Why would you think that?”
“I guess because of Rock. I mean, I get that Chandler might be pissed, and even though he’s in the hospital—”
“Don’t worry about Chandler.” He blew out a breath. “Rocky wouldn’t go anywhere unless Elena and I guaranteed your job at the Rocking C. I’m still foreman and—”
“Wait. Sorry, boy.” I released tension on the reins as soon as I realized I was gripping them too tight. I patted Ogre’s neck with my soaked glove, only half-convinced I was too good a rider to get ham-fisted with a horse. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Rock. About him going back home.”
I felt dazed, like someone had hit me from behind. Like I’d been stabbed or something. The Earth spun off its orbit and next thing I knew the trail came up and hit my face. I lay there, heaped in mud and misery. Stunned.
Even Ogre looked down at my sorry ass with pity.
I didn’t even try to keep the shock off my face.
“Rock left?” I shouted.
“This afternoon. His folks sent their driver. I thought—” He narrowed his eyes. “We came back here last night so he could tell you. Spend some time with you. Didn’t he—”
“Okay.” I had to get on all fours to stand—I was punch-drunk without a lamppost or a street sign handy. “I didn’t know.”
“That little pissant. He didn’t tell you?”
Foz’s unexpected outburst had the effect of clearing my head. “He wanted to tell me something. I figured he needed his sleep.”
Heat burned my face beneath the layers of grime.
I’d stopped Rock from saying his piece last night and left him asleep before he had the chance that morning.
Shit.
“It’s all right.” I dug my phone out of my shirt pocket and turned it on. No signal. I turned it off because there was no point to wasting the battery. “I’ll bet he’s pissed as hell.”
“I’m sure.” Foz dismounted and took both horse’s reins.
Stupid to waste time standing in the rain.
“What’s he going home to?” I asked. “Is it as bad as he thinks? Or is he only borrowing trouble?”
“Hard to say.” Foz waited patiently. “Elena knows more about his family than I do. They believe being gay is some kind of choice.”
I nodded. “Figured as much.”
“Tough love, isn’t that what they call it?” He started walking, leading the horses. I fell in beside him. “They’re doing it out of love.”
I nodded. “So there’s always a chance they’ll work it out?”
“Sure.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Lots of folks are overhauling what they believe about gender and sexuality now that it’s legal for everybody to get married. Psychologists say we’re all on some kind of continuum anyway, that gender and sexuality aren’t on-off binaries. Elena keeps up with the social justice blogs and whatnot. I like hearing her talk about it. Her eyes kinda sparkle, you know? It’s important to her. It lights her up.”
“At least one of us is doing okay in that department.” I muttered. “Elena’s good people.”
He chuckled sadly. “Right. Well, you might want to save your congratulations because I don’t think me and Elena are a couple anymore.”
“What happened? I saw you dancing last week and I assumed . . .”
“Yeah, well.” He took his hat off and slapped it on his thigh. Water and mud sprayed everywhere. “Shoot. Elena’s always had eyes for the boss.”
“Wait. Our boss?”
“Well, with him being such a dick about Andi and Ryder and you and Rock, I figured I had a chance to make some headway there. And you saw, right? It worked for a while.”
He sighed and handed Ogre’s reins back. I said, “Sorry.”
“You tell anyone I stood in the rain half the day jawing over a woman and I will end you.”
“Blackmail’s an ugly—but lucrative—word.”
“I’ll write you a check.” He shot me a sad grimace.
“Well, shit.” Still feeling sick inside, we mounted up and I set Ogre to following Foz’s mount back to the ranch house.
But my phone started vibrating like a pricey dildo as soon we got within sight of the Ranch house.
Oh. My. God. Why didn’t you wake me? Came the first text from Rock, followed a second later by, I told you I needed to talk to you! Christ. I can’t believe this.
Then they just kept on coming.
Okay.
Okay.
My parents lost their shit.
They want me home and they’re not taking no for an answer.
They didn’t give me a choice this time. Someone must’ve said something about us.
I can’t think who, unless it was Cecilia Everett. She and my mom are tight.
I made Elena promise that nothing will happen to you.
My heart squeezed painfully. Why the hell was he worrying about me? I could fucking take care of myself.
I choked down a surge of impotent rage.
I’d promised I’d be there for him and I failed before the sheets were cold.
Still, his texts kept coming.
/> If you need help, go to Elena.
Or Foz. Foz is awesome. He’ll see you right.
Declan might be a good ally. Ryder and Andi.
I was so selfish, he sent.
God, no. It was me. I was selfish.
I wanted my night with you. Please, please say you’ll forgive me for not telling you. I didn’t want to spoil things and then you were just gone.
I blinked away the sting of tears. No time for that. The horses needed taking care of while Foz dug debris from the culverts.
I couldn’t reply until I took care of the animals.
I don’t deserve a decent guy like Rock if I’m too selfish to see to the animals first.
By the time I ran to the bunkhouse, I could barely carry my wet gear.
Plop, plop. Off came my gloves. Thud. The duster.
Piece by piece, I ditched my clothing on the back porch, and then I stepped into the shower.
An animal noise escaped my throat. Raw and wounded. Tears burned my eyes. Rage and helplessness dogged my thoughts.
Rock left me out of a decision that affected me.
Like he didn’t think I was worth telling. And maybe knowing a dude for a week . . . maybe I didn’t have any right to expect him to confide in me but I thought we had some kind of understanding.
I thought he understood me. I trusted him.
And now I didn’t know what to think. So maybe I had to let things play out. Answer his texts. See if he was okay with his folks after all. See if maybe he was exaggerating how bad things would be with them.
Maybe he was going to be fine and all I had to worry about was my job.
I got out of the shower, dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Jammed my feet into barn boots.
Going back outside didn’t help, but at least out there, I could stop by the goats and the pigs. I could say hello to Rock’s feathered lady friends.
The storm outside passed, but inside, it still raged.
Figures.
Rock’s fancy chickens stretched and preened for a handful of corn.
Disappointment swelled inside me.
I pulled out my phone and held it like I was praying.
Hey. I sent. Wish to God I’d woken you before I left.
Chapter 32
Rock
The drive didn’t start well. Maisy fell asleep in the backseat, I stared out the window, and because there was a storm boiling overhead, Jackson got diarrhea of the mouth.
He delivered all the latest news: Michael and his wife Linda were expecting their third, Justin was engaged, and William had a girl he was serious about, but there was some drinking involved and her parents were pissed. William was acting like a redneck Romeo deprived of his Juliet, blah, blah, blah.
Everyone figures because I got hit by lightning, I should be afraid of storms. I’ve told them a hundred times that isn’t the case. I love watching storms from the safety of a house, a plane, or even a car. And if I’m caught out in one, I don’t break any land speed records getting to safety.
A lot of things could kill me.
I wasn’t putting my money on being hit by lightning a second time.
As the SUV splashed over the miles between the Rocking C and I-35, I tuned Jackson out.
Physically, I was in the car, but my thoughts were still in the empty equipment shed where I’d searched for Sky and come to the awful realization he’d left without waking me.
Now I was leaving too. Without any good-byes between us.
What would Sky make of that?
I’d studied him. He could read people like a carnival psychic. Then he’d play them a little, just to see if he could. I’d watched him work his way into everyone’s good graces, Elena and the boss and the hands alike. I’d seen how much he wanted to be part of things.
Sparrow.
He fit his nickname well.
Sparrows are social creatures. You always see ’em grooming or bathing or singing together, sometimes hundreds of them, one big community.
A guy like Sky needed to belong to something bigger than himself.
My dad’s church was full of guys like him.
Church or a prison gang. The army or a ranch full of cowboys in Texas.
Sky needed to belong.
That didn’t mean he was weak, although I wasn’t sure how he saw himself in that regard. He wasn’t real confident. And now I’d gone and taken away one of the things that made him feel safe.
The hollow ache of grief took root inside me.
This would be bad for Sky, never mind my situation which was . . . probably not good either.
I saw my situation clearly. I saw what I had. After all, I’d just packed up everything I owned. I saw what I’d lost, even as I forced myself not to look back.
The future yawned out before me—a future dictated by my parents in one way or another. Like the land on either side of the highway as far as I could see, my future was going to be unforgiving.
The storm moved with us, following our progress for hours. “We’re making good time, Leadfoot.”
Jackson gave one of his rare little laughs. “Speed limit’s 75.”
“But ninety is your sweet spot. Might have been easier to fly.”
“Nothing goes straight through, and I don’t want to have to layover in Goddamn Dallas to get to Oklahoma City from Austin.”
I was glad he drove fast. I couldn’t imagine spending the night at Motel Whatever with Jackson. A retired soldier, he’d worked for my family as both the head of security and a personal bodyguard for ages. I outweighed him, but he looked like a dirty fighter. He was loyal to my dad. Half in love with my mother. Silent and competent.
We stopped at a convenience store just north of Austin. He played a videogame on his phone while I got snacks and something to drink.
At one time, I’d had an enormous boner for him.
“Imagine Dad picking me up in a U-Haul. Or Mom.”
That earned another smile. For Jackson, that was almost hysterics.
“C’mon.” He turned away.
I remembered other trips we’d taken together. Jackson, carrying my Star Wars pilot case. Jackson, buying puzzles to keep me occupied. Jackson, backstage during a conference, keeping me and my brothers quiet while my father showed off our “beautiful family culture” to his congregation and—through cable television—the world at large.
“I’m gay, Jackson.” I stopped walking on the way to the SUV. “You know that, right?”
His shoulders tightened before he turned, as if he’d been bracing himself for this conversation for a while.
“I know you believe that,” he said.
“Like you believe you’re straight. How do you think it’d go if I tried to tell you otherwise?”
“We aren’t talking about me.” He’d always toed the party line. Right on cue, he said, “Your confusion is because of the accident.”
“Bullshit.” Silence fell all around us. All those years of being a nice boy, a silent, go-along-to-get-along McLean swept away with one word.
Fuck that.
Since I’d gotten Maisy, anonymity was no longer an option anyway.
I didn’t lower my voice but I didn’t raise it either. “I knew I was gay at eight.”
“All kids—”
“I’m gay,” I said again. “Did my older brothers come on to you like I did?”
He winced because, yeah. Not my finest hour.
He took hold of my shirt and pushed me and Maisy out of the flow of traffic. Once he unlocked the car, I put my bags in back and got in.
“Do you even remember it?” I asked. “All those clumsy attempts to get your attention?”
“That was you being an entitled monster. And you know what? Fuck you. Christ.” He backed away, hands up. “If you think I have something
worth trying to hide, then—”
“What about that kiss?”
He paled.
“Oh relax. I handed you a classic case of sexual harassment. You should have sued. You deserve it after all you put up with.”
“I don’t have time for this.” He turned away. I closed the passenger door.
Maisy and I waited for him to get back in the car. Predictably, eventually, he did.
“So it’s all water under the bridge now?” I asked.
Because I didn’t think he ever forgave me for trying to kiss him. We’d pretended I had been drinking. That the clumsy pass I made was only a joke.
It wasn’t long after that I had my accident.
“My parents think lightning turned me gay. That my unsanctioned desires are the result of bad wiring or some shit. But you know better. I was a gay entitled monster before I got hit by lighting and things haven’t changed all that much.”
He snorted. Backed out of the parking space, and turned, edging out of the lot and onto the damp street again.
“I was a pain in the ass to you when I was a kid. I blamed you for a lot of things that weren’t your fault. I blamed you because my parents weren’t there. I couldn’t air my grievances to them so . . .”
Jackson drove. His jaw worked. That was the only sign he heard me.
“I blamed you because you were the only one available and I’m sorry.”
That earned me an irritated glance. I couldn’t help the feeling that was the first skirmish in the war over my future. I had to decide who I was and then I had to stick to my guns.
Two hours later, I asked him to stop again.
“I need to hit the head.”
Frowning, he nodded. He took the next opportunity to get off the highway.
The truck stop was busier than I expected. Maisy and I had to run the gauntlet: people who loved dogs in general, people who admired service dogs specifically, people who didn’t think I ought to be able to take my dog with me when they couldn’t, and all the nosy fuckers in between.
Fucking exhausting.
We used the handicapped stall, and while I was washing my hands Jackson took the sink next to mine.
“We’re going to have to agree to disagree,” he said. “To keep the peace between us.”
My Cowboy Freedom Page 25
