by Ariel Tachna
“So why did you come here?” Chris asked. “I mean, not that I think you shouldn’t have, but why would you leave all that behind for Australia?”
“Because I was in a d-dead-end job, the g-guy I thought I’d be with d-dumped me, I couldn’t afford the apartment by myself, and I’d always wanted to visit my uncle’s sheep station,” Caine said. “My mother was g-going to sell it. She didn’t have any need for a sheep station and no way to run it either. It was about to be my last chance, and even if I b-blew it, it couldn’t be any w-worse than what I was leaving b-behind.”
“You’re stuttering. You never stutter.”
Caine laughed. “You didn’t know me a year ago. I don’t stutter very often anymore, but strong emotion still brings it out. My point, though, is that being gay wasn’t ever something I needed to hide, so of course it’s easy for me to talk about being with Macklin. I don’t think of it any differently than Neil would think about telling people he and Molly are getting married, but I’ve been here long enough to realize I’m the only one in the outback who feels that way. Honestly, it didn’t take twenty-four hours to realize I was the only one who felt that way. So yes, I say it easily, and the people around me have reached a point where I can even live it fairly easily, but that doesn’t mean reaching this point was easy. You’ve met Macklin. You can’t believe for a second that he was out before I came.”
“No,” Chris said. “You’re right. I couldn’t believe he danced with you last night.”
“He couldn’t believe it either,” Caine said. “He’s a stockman through and through. Hard as nails and strong as the mountains we’re standing on, and anything that might imply weakness is stomped out before it can take root. It’s one of the many reasons I love him. He will always be there for me to lean on, offering his strength, but it sometimes makes me want to beat his head against the wall because he’s as stubborn and set in his ways as he is strong, and that’s the thing you need to know about Aussie stockmen. They respect strength and determination. They’re strong enough, or maybe repressed enough, to turn off their emotions and walk away from everything they really want if they think it’s not right or good or whatever stupid ideas they get in their heads. Macklin tried to do it to me, and I’d venture a guess Jesse’s trying to do the same thing to you.”
“So what do I do about it?” Chris asked.
“Well, that depends,” Caine replied. “Just like water wears down rock, it’s possible to break them down and get inside their heads and their hearts, but it’s a hell of a lot of work, and it’s not something that happens overnight. I was lucky, in a sense. I almost drowned, and that scared Macklin right out of his stoic shell. If that hadn’t happened, I’d probably still be working on him because it hasn’t been a year yet since I got here, much less since I realized Macklin was what I wanted. So the first question isn’t what to do about it. The first question is what do you want from Jesse?”
“Nothing at the moment,” Chris muttered.
“I don’t blame you,” Caine said, giving Chris’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “And if that’s really your answer, then you don’t need to worry about anything else. You can forget everything I told you except for future reference if you meet another stubborn stockman you want to try your luck with.”
“No,” Chris admitted, “it’s not really my answer. I’m angry and hurt that he left without a word, but Macklin seemed to think he was pretty upset, so maybe Seth letting the cat out of the bag about me falling in love with him really bothered him.”
“I take it you hadn’t talked about it?”
Chris shook his head. “It never seemed like the right time, and besides, we were just messing around, you know? It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just two guys letting off a little steam now and then. There’s no harm in that.”
“No, there isn’t,” Caine agreed. “So Jesse’s problem is he thinks you changed the rules on him mid-game, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell him,” Chris said. “My emotions are my problem, not his. I mean, I hoped he’d eventually feel the same way, but I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it or ask him for anything or expect him to do anything differently.”
“Even to the point of letting him go at the end of the season?”
“I hadn’t gotten that far,” Chris said, “but I knew he planned on going. He’d made comments about spending the winter in Melbourne and stuff, so I knew he wasn’t planning on settling down yet, but he also made comments about maybe coming back next summer, so I figured we’d pick up where we left off, and maybe next summer would be different.”
“It sounds to me like you already know the answer to my first question, then,” Caine said. “You want him, whatever that ends up looking like.”
“Yeah, but will he still want me now that he knows how I feel?”
“I can’t answer that question for you,” Caine said, “but I’ll repeat what I said about those stubborn stockmen. If Macklin thought for a second that the station and I would be better served without him here, he would leave and never look back. Fortunately I disabused him of that notion before he could actually do it, but I have no doubt it could have happened. If Jesse’s got it in his head that he’s bad for you, he’s perfectly capable of leaving, no matter what he really wants, just because he’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide and core of steel that he’s built up from hiding who he is and being strong enough to protect himself if someone does find out. Granted, Macklin’s had a few more years to build that up than Jesse has, but Macklin’s been on Lang Downs since he was sixteen, and until a year ago, he had Uncle Michael to back him up if necessary. Jesse’s moved from station to station, so he’s had to start over each time with convincing the people around him he’s as hard and tough as they are.”
“So what do I do?”
“You fight for him.”
THE BAR in Melbourne where Jesse spent most of his winter evenings was just as crowded and just as dingy in the summer, but the drinks were still as cheap and the men just as available. Jesse figured it was the best he could ask for. Now he just had to find oblivion in hard liquor and some twink’s tight ass. An anonymous fuck to help him get Chris out of his system. Just what the doctor ordered.
If only he could find one.
He ruled out all the blonds because he’d end up picturing a pair of deep, dark eyes to go with the light hair. The brunets all rubbed him the wrong way too. They were too tall, too short, too buff, or too skinny. He’d had enough seductive looks cast his way to take his pick, but he obviously wasn’t drunk enough yet since none of them sparked more than a passing flicker of interest.
“You’re back early,” the bartender said as he brought Jesse another drink. “We don’t usually see you until the end of April.”
“I took a week off,” Jesse said, refusing to think about why he had the time. “Where else would I go?”
“I can think of a couple regulars who’ll be happy to see you, early or not,” the bartender said with a leer.
“Point me their way,” Jesse said with a joviality he didn’t feel. “Better yet, send one of them a drink from me.”
“You don’t want to know who it is first?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jesse said. “I’m just looking for some action, not romance.”
The bartender looked skeptical, but he indicated a guy at the end of the bar—not a blond, thankfully—and Jesse nodded. A few minutes later, the man came down to lean on the bar next to Jesse. “Welcome back.”
“It’s just for a few days,” Jesse said, not wanting to give the man any false hope. He’d done enough of that with Chris apparently.
“I could deal with a few days,” the guy said. “I’m Matt.”
“Jesse.”
“You wanna dance, Jesse?”
Dancing was the last thing Jesse wanted, not when he’d been too afraid to dance with Chris, but he had to have some prelude to dragging the guy into the bathroom or
back room to fuck him. “Why not?”
Matt grinned and pulled Jesse onto the dance floor, grinding against him more than actually dancing as he felt up Jesse’s chest through his shirt.
Jesse’s body reacted to the stimulation, his nipples tightening and his cock waking up in his pants. Matt grinned and turned in Jesse’s loose embrace so he could press his arse against Jesse’s groin. Jesse groaned and used the new position to run his hands over Matt’s chest in turn. The man was hot and obviously eager, and the combination of lust and drunkenness made it easy to forget the desperation that had brought him Melbourne at the height of summer. He closed his eyes and let the music add to the pounding in his blood. He couldn’t have danced like this with Chris, even if he’d given in to Seth’s urging. He would have had to keep it clean, not this raw, needy build-up to mindless release. Matt didn’t care who was watching, and no one in the bar cared how lewdly they rubbed against each other. Hell, half the bar would probably cheer if Jesse got Matt’s shirt off and started giving them a real show.
If the way Matt egged him on, bucking against him and moaning loud enough to be heard over the music every time Jesse squeezed his nipples was any indication, Matt wouldn’t mind either.
“Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” Jesse said as he slid one hand from Matt’s chest to his dick. “I want to get a taste of this.”
Matt flashed him a seductive grin and pulled him toward the shadowy restroom corridor. Jesse ignored his conscience screaming that this was wrong, that he’d regret it in the morning, that Matt deserved better than to be used as a path to forgetfulness even if he didn’t mind being a casual fuck.
The fluorescent lights of the restroom were glaring after the relative darkness of the bar itself, making Jesse wince as his head pounded and his gut churned from everything he’d drunk before dancing with Matt. Matt wasn’t paying attention to Jesse’s discomfort, though, pulling Jesse toward one of the open stalls and locking them inside.
Chris would have noticed, Jesse’s conscience said. Chris would have cared.
Jesse silenced the annoying internal voice by pushing Matt against the wall and shoving his hand down the other man’s pants. “You’re in a hurry,” Matt purred. “I like that in a man.”
There wasn’t any choice, Jesse thought cynically. They were in the bathroom of a bar, likely to be interrupted at any moment. This wasn’t the time for slow and sweet.
Matt undid Jesse’s jeans, pulling him free and pumping him roughly. His grip was tight, almost too tight, but his palm was smooth, a city dweller’s hand.
Not Chris’s hand.
Jesse got Matt’s shirt open to reveal a startlingly smooth chest. Jesse ran his hand over it in surprise, only to feel the slightest hint of stubble.
Waxed.
Fake.
Reminding himself he didn’t have to approve of Matt’s choices to fuck him, he turned his attention to Matt’s pants instead, but when he pushed them down around his hips and saw the nearly shaved pubes, he groaned and turned away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean you can’t do this?” Matt demanded behind him. “You didn’t have any trouble all but screwing me on the dance floor.”
Jesse’s stomach roiled, bile rising in his throat.
“I said I can’t do this,” Jesse repeated, straightening his clothes and turning back to face Matt. He opened the stall door and gestured for Matt to leave. “Get out.”
“Fucker!” Matt shouted. “Tease.”
The invectives continued as Jesse closed the door again in the other man’s face, but the words carried over the thin partitions. Jesse couldn’t even hear them after a moment. Nothing Matt could say was worse than what Jesse was saying to himself.
He didn’t want a mindless fuck. He didn’t want some polished, pretty body who’d fuck anything that moved.
He wanted Chris.
His stomach heaved and he collapsed to his knees, everything he’d drunk coming back up in one foul rush. He puked hard, gagging as the bile nearly choked him.
He’d had Chris. He’d had not just the fucking but the friendship and even the love, and he’d thrown it back in Chris’s face like it was as meaningless as every other encounter he’d ever had.
Sweat poured down his face as another wave of nausea shook him and he vomited again. He didn’t think he had anything left in his stomach, but his body disagreed, spasm after spasm leaving him weak and shaking.
He’d blown it. Despite Jesse’s inability to see what was in front of him, Chris had fallen in love with him, warts and all. Jesse hadn’t tried to impress Chris, hadn’t approached him as he would have if he’d been thinking about romance, and Chris loved him anyway.
The vomiting turned to dry heaves, his body still trying to purge all the alcohol he’d consumed even though his stomach was empty, and Jesse’s ragged breathing turned to sobs.
Fuck, he’d sunk low, on his knees in a grungy bar loo that probably hadn’t been cleaned in months, stinking of alcohol and bile.
It served him right.
Twenty-One
CHRIS SAT outside on the tiny veranda of his little house, staring up at the stars. They made him think of Jesse, of all the nights they’d sat together looking up at them with Jesse pointing out constellations or simply watching them wheel overhead, not that Chris could think about much else since he and Caine had talked two days before.
Fight for him.
Such simple words, but Chris had no idea how to begin. If Jesse were asleep in the bunkhouse where he belonged, it would be easy. He’d keep talking, keep seducing, keep loving until Jesse had no choice but to see how good things were between them, but Jesse wasn’t there, and Chris didn’t know if he was coming back.
He’d resisted the urge to snoop in Jesse’s room to see if Jesse had left anything behind. Clothes and things could be replaced, of course, but if Jesse had left stuff behind, it meant he’d planned to come back when he left, even if he’d changed his mind since then. If the room was completely empty….
That didn’t even bear thinking about.
He could wait and see if Jesse came back, see what the man’s mood was when he arrived, but that hardly counted as fighting for him. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe Jesse would work out whatever demons had sent him running and things would be back to normal, but the cat was out of the bag now. Chris wasn’t sure they could go back to “normal.” Jesse knew how he felt now, even if Chris hadn’t said it to him yet. Even if Chris said he could accept their old arrangement, his feelings would be there, hanging between them, and he’d always wonder what would make Jesse run the next time. And that assumed Jesse would be willing to have any kind of arrangement with Chris, knowing how Chris felt.
“Are you still out there?” Seth asked, sticking his head through the open doorway.
“Yes,” Chris said. “Just thinking.”
“About Jesse?”
“Yeah,” Chris said.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you want to hear about it?” Chris said with a laugh.
“Maybe not the details,” Seth said, “but you’re my brother. You’ve been taking care of me for months, and this is kind of my fault. If you need to talk, I’ll listen.”
“I have to figure out what I want with Jesse,” Chris said slowly. “I may or may not get what I want, of course, but if I don’t know what I want, what I can live with, and what I can’t, how can I figure out where to go if he comes back?”
“So what do you want?” Seth asked, taking the other seat.
“What Caine and Macklin have,” Chris said. He almost laughed with the relief of saying it aloud for the first time. “God, I never thought I’d say that. I never thought I’d be able to say that. Are you okay with that?”
“I’ve never had a problem with you being gay,” Seth reminded him. “I like Jesse, and I like it here on the station. If you want to shack up with Jesse and spend the rest of you
r life here, I’m good with that.”
“Then I guess I’d better figure out how to make it work, huh?”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Not for sure,” Chris said. “He mentioned Melbourne more than once, saying he spent the winters with friends there, but Melbourne’s not exactly Boorowa or Yass. Just showing up there isn’t going to be enough to find him.”
“You could try calling him,” Seth suggested. “I’m sure Caine has his contact information somewhere.”
Chris blinked a couple of times. “God, you’re brilliant. Okay, first thing in the morning, I’ll get the number from Caine and then I’m going after him. Will you be okay alone here for a few days?”
“Alone?” Seth said with a laugh. “How many people live on this station? I’ll be lucky to spend a second of the time you’re gone alone with everyone coming to check on me.”
“You okay with that?” Chris asked.
Seth grinned. “Oh yeah.”
JESSE WOKE up the next day, well past noon, still feeling hung over and shaky. His friend had already left for work, but Jesse knew the apartment well enough to stumble into the kitchen and start a pot of tea. He hoped the caffeine would help clear his head. The bottles of water he drank after he got back to the apartment last night hadn’t made a difference, but his stomach wasn’t threatening to empty again like it had been last night.
He prepared the first cup of tea on autopilot, letting the force of habit move him through the motions. By the time he poured the second cup, he could feel his brain starting to kick in and with it, the sense of loss that had driven him to his knees the night before.
He’d blown it with Chris. He knew that, but maybe everything wasn’t as hopeless as it had seemed the night before when he was drunk off his arse. If Seth was right and Chris really did love him, maybe Chris could be convinced to forgive him. Not that Jesse thought it would be that easy. Jesse hadn’t just freaked out at the thought that Chris might love him; he’d run. And now that things had gone down the way they did, he didn’t expect they could go back to the way things had been before. Ignorance had allowed Jesse to imagine they were comfortable with the status quo, but those blinders had been stripped away. If he went back, if he asked Chris to forgive him and give him another chance, he had to be willing to accept Chris’s feelings and all that entailed. He had to be willing to commit to something.
