Long Tall Drink

by L. C. Chase

  “S-so…c-cold…” Travis croaked through chattering teeth.

  “Shh. Help is on the way. You just hold on.”

  Ray adjusted the blanket under Travis’s chin, then leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to ones that had been warm and soft less than an hour ago but were now chillingly cold and tinged blue. Fear gripped his heart and squeezed it painfully, but he wouldn’t let Travis see it. He would be strong for Travis. Had to be.

  “I’m not letting you go, Travis Morgan,” he said vehemently. “Got that?”

  A half smile ghosted those unnaturally blue lips. “Con-trol…freak…”

  Ray smiled back, but knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “Save it, Morgan.”

  They fell quiet a moment, gazes locked, neither man able to pull away from the other. Travis’s smile faded from his face, his expression turned serious, and a flash of that enticing fire flared in his eyes.

  “I think I-I’m…falling in lo—”

  Ray quickly placed two fingers against Travis’s mouth. He didn’t want to hear that. It wasn’t something he ever thought he’d hear from Travis, and he definitely didn’t want to hear it now. Not like this. He shook his head sharply and his voice threatened to fail when he said, “You tell me later. Okay? We’ll get you patched up, and then you tell me.”

  But Travis told him anyway with his eyes.

  “Travis, please…”

  Travis tried to nod, and then his eyelids slid down, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After what seemed an eternity, Ray finally heard the distinctive, rhythmic wop-wop-wop of the approaching helicopter. He vaguely registered Diablo bolting as the aircraft began to set down. He draped himself carefully over Travis’s body to protect him from the swirling dirt and dry grass kicked up by the machine’s spinning rotors.

  And then there were hands on his shoulders, gentle but firm, trying to pull him away from Travis. But he fought the hold. He couldn’t let go. Refused to.

  “Sir, we’ve got him,” a compassionate voice said next to his ear. “It’s okay.”

  “But that…tree…”

  “We’re going to do our best for him,” the voice said. “Come on, let us do our job.”

  Ray nodded and reluctantly released his grip around the base of the branch. He stumbled backward as two paramedics closed in on Travis, checking vitals and assessing the wound. He didn’t really understand what they were saying, but their voices and actions were reassuringly professional and efficient.

  The man who’d spoken to him, another paramedic, led Ray to the chopper and eased him down in a leather seat. “What’s his name?”

  “Travis. Travis Morgan.”

  “He mean a lot to you?”

  Ray shot a startled glance at the paramedic, looking at him for the first time. The paramedic was a young man with kind blue eyes and a warm smile—no hint of malice or judgment in his expression.

  “It’s okay. I understand,” he said, extending his hand. “Name’s Jacob. My partner and I are going on eight years now.”

  Ray’s brain stuttered. He couldn’t respond. Didn’t know how. The whole situation was just too surreal to make sense of. Fortunately he didn’t have to. The other two paramedics had arrived with Travis secured to a board and lifted him into the aircraft. Once they were all safely buckled in, the big bird lifted off. Ray reached for Travis’s hand and held it while he stared at the man’s pale, strained face, willing him to live, to stay.

  A team of nurses and doctors were already waiting on the helipad when they landed on the roof of St Vincent’s Hospital. After quickly moving Travis onto a wheeled gurney, they rushed him straight through to emergency surgery—with that goddamned tree branch sticking out of his side.

  Ray didn’t notice the paramedics take their leave, didn’t hear what Jacob said in parting, or remember how he got from the helipad to the ER waiting room. He just felt the overwhelming, numbing fear of losing Travis so soon after having just begun to discover him. He couldn’t seem to stop the tremors that racked his body, or slow the pulse that made his heart pound erratically against his rib cage.

  Travis could die.

  He looked down at his hands and furrowed his brows in confusion. They were covered in blood—Travis’s blood. He’d lost so much, too much.

  His stomach flip-flopped, and bile burned the back of his throat. Ray’s knees gave out, and he plopped gracelessly onto the nearest chair. He dropped his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He refused to accept that Travis wouldn’t survive this. Refused a life without that carefree cowboy in it.

  Distantly he became aware of a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He looked up to see Dot and Jesse standing before him through a blurred veil. His mind registered that Dot was speaking to him, because her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying over the frenzied buzzing in his ears. Couldn’t understand her words or form any in response. Her eyes searched his with compassion and concern. He felt strangely detached from his body, as though he were nothing more than an empty husk. There but not.

  They sat down on either side of him, and Dot held his shaking, bloody hands in hers.

  Finally, almost three hours later, a doctor entered the tensely quiet waiting room. Ray immediately jumped from his chair.

  “How is he?” His voice cracked.

  “He’s going to be fine,” the doctor said. “We were able to remove the branch and clean the wound completely. Amazingly, the branch missed his vital organs and only nicked his stomach.”

  “Thank God,” Ray breathed, the relief so intense he felt momentarily dizzy and his vision blurred again. His face felt oddly wet. Warm arms wrapped around his waist from both sides, and he let himself be supported by Jesse and Dot.

  “Come on, Raymond,” Dot said quietly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Ray woke with a start. Panic jolted his system like an electrical shock that was quickly followed by relief when his gaze fell on Travis resting peacefully. Alive.

  After Ray had taken up residence in the chair at Travis’s bedside yesterday, the remainder of the day had passed in a hazy, disjointed blur.

  He remembered the moment Travis had come out of recovery and been moved to a private room. He’d been instantly at his side and refused to leave or even shift from his watchful perch in a chair butted right up next to Travis’s hospital bed. He ignored the nurses who’d tried getting him to leave, ignored Dot who’d tried to take him home, or at least make him eat, though he did finally acquiesce to a shower and a change into clean clothes. But then he’d refused to move until those captivating green eyes opened and once again trapped him with their secrets.

  Ray straightened up in the unforgiving chair he’d fallen asleep in, and rubbed absently at the kink in his neck. He studied the man who’d somehow come to mean everything to him in such a short time.

  Goose bumps spread across the exposed skin of Travis’s shoulders and upper chest. Ray leaned over and pulled the bed sheets up to Travis’s chin and tucked them around his cowboy’s blessedly warm body. His cowboy. He didn’t know quite when he’d started thinking of Travis as his, but he liked the sound of it.

  He let his hand rest lightly on the center of Travis’s chest, reveling at the warmth that radiated through the sheets under his open palm—warmth that meant he would live to ride another day. Ray slowly slid his hand to the base of Travis’s neck and then upward. A strong pulse pounded under his fingertips as he made his way to the hard jawline. He liked the rough scrape of day-old stubble against his palm. He cradled the side of Travis’s face and lightly caressed healthy, pink lips with his thumb. Then he leaned forward, his cheek to Travis’s chin, so he could feel the soft, reassuring brush of breath on his skin.

  Ray sighed. He began to lower his hand and pull back, but Travis reached up and caught him with a light grip around the wrist. Travis turned his head slightly and pressed his cheek into Ray’s palm. Then he opened his eyes. Though still dul
led with pain and medication, that mischievous, heart-stopping fire simmered in their depths, and Ray was positive he heard angels sing.

  Travis lowered Ray’s hand with his and rested them both on his chest—over his heart—and laced their fingers. Then he slid the other hand up Ray’s arm, over his shoulder, and threaded long fingers into his hair. Ray closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation of his cowboy’s reverent touch. Travis moved his hand to the back of Ray’s neck and tugged.

  Ray opened his eyes and parted his lips over Travis’s mouth, but paused a hairbreadth from touching. He just needed a second to breathe in the intoxicating scent of Travis, let the heat of Travis’s body flow over his skin. And then Ray closed the last sliver of space and took those velvet lips in a soft, intimate slide that said everything he didn’t have words for. He poured all his fear and relief and heart into the kiss and into Travis, and something in his chest relaxed.

  Travis parted his lips, and Ray didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his tongue around Travis’s and deepened the kiss. Suddenly it became intense, passionate. Need seared through Ray’s brain, and he had to be closer, dive deeper. Travis tried to rise up, but Ray eased him back gently and rose from his chair, leaning over Travis until he was practically in the bed with him, covering him.

  Ray knew right then and there without a doubt that this man, Travis Morgan, was the most important person in his life. He would give anything for him—even his ranch.

  Ray broke the kiss and gazed deep into Travis’s eyes, as if he could reach his soul.

  “I want you to stay, Travis,” he said in a rough whisper. “Stay here with me.”

  Travis was quiet for a moment, and Ray couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. Apprehension began to nip at the bliss he’d been riding.

  “You know I’m not one to lay down roots.”

  Ray nodded and quickly averted his eyes, hoping he’d dropped them before Travis could see the disappointment that threatened to split his heart. His chest felt like it had just caved in, and he struggled to breathe. He’d said his piece, put it out there, and received a response. There was no more he could do. He wouldn’t push the man to stay only to be resented for it later. It had to be Travis’s choice. But if it hurt this much now, Ray really didn’t know how he was going to survive without his carefree, effervescent cowboy when he eventually did leave.

  “But if there was any man worth staying in one place for,” Travis continued, “it would be you. It will be you, Ray.”

  Ray looked up into mischievous eyes that smiled back at him with merriment and so much adoration, his chest swelled, his throat opened, and he could breathe again.

  “Kiss me, sexy man,” Travis drawled in a low rumble that Ray responded to with a deep groan. And then he did exactly what his cowboy had commanded. He kissed him with everything he had.

  A throat cleared softly from the doorway.

  They froze. Ray’s eyes snapped open and met Travis’s wide, shocked gaze, mouths still locked.

  Ray jumped back from the bedside and stumbled over the chair he’d been sitting on. It tipped over and hit the floor with a loud clank that echoed incessantly in the stunned silence. Heat scorched his cheeks so intensely, he knew they had to be a brilliant, fire-engine red. “Mortified” didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling just then. He’d been caught kissing a man, and now it would destroy not only his reputation and the ranch’s, but Travis’s as well. He tried to tell Travis he was sorry with his eyes, but Travis was already looking toward the door with a bashful smile playing on his handsome face.

  Ray turned to see Dot walking into the room with a large paper bag in her hands. A cheek-splitting Cheshire cat smile lit her face, and amusement flashed in her piercing blue eyes. Even though Ray knew she’d suspected and seemed supportive, having her actually see was a horse of a whole other color.

  “You sit right back down by your man, Raymond Ford,” Dot admonished as she pulled a chair up to the other side of the bed. “Brought Travis a homemade meal. Don’t want my future son-in-law here dying from the poison they call food in this place.”

  Ray still hadn’t moved. Shock hadn’t finished its ragged tour through his body. Travis’s dancing gaze bounced back and forth between a stunned Ray and jovial Dot.

  “Pick your jaw up off the floor and come sit down.” Dot didn’t look at him as she pulled containers from the bag and arranged them on the hospital tray. “You think I wouldn’t have figured out how bad you two have it for each other? Goodness, half the ranch knows.”

  “What!” Ray reeled. His knees felt weak, and his stomach rolled over.

  They were ruined. Yes, he’d already decided he’d give everything, but zero to a hundred wasn’t quite the speed he’d planned on coming out at. Actually, he hadn’t thought about much beyond keeping Travis alive and getting him to stay.

  “Oh, don’t you worry, son,” Dot said cheerfully. “Not the off-site crew, just Hollis, Jesse, and Clay. Oh, and Ross too, of course. We’ve been running a bet on when you two would finally see what we’ve all seen since you brought this fine young man home.”

  She glanced up at Travis and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Of course, I won the pot. I swear. Men will never learn not to bet against ole Dot McCray.”

  Travis chuckled and immediately sucked in a sharp breath and winced. “Oww. Don’t make me laugh, Dottie.”

  Travis looked over at Ray and pinned him with that magnetic gaze he’d come to love being trapped by. Then his cowboy smiled, and Ray knew, one way or another, things would work out. They had to, because going back to a life in secret, without Travis in it, would be beyond unbearable.

  “This isn’t an issue for you, Dot? And the hands?” Ray asked. It seemed all too surreal. He’d woken up this morning buried deep in the closet, and now, before the day was even half-over, he was out and apparently accepted.

  Numbing terror and overwhelming relief battled for control of his mind.

  “I’ve only ever wanted you happy, son,” Dot said softly. “And this fine young man here seems to be the one to make that happen. I’ve no right to admonish that.”

  Travis held his hand out and quietly said, “Come here, babe.”

  Ray righted his chair and reached out hesitantly, taking Travis’s warm, strong hand in his before sitting back down. Travis gave him a quick, reassuring squeeze.

  “Now that we’ve got that all settled,” Dot chirped. “Let’s eat.”

  “But it’s not all settled, Dot. Not everyone is as accepting as you. Remember how Dwayne Harrelson was run out? And look what happened with Sam. He tried to kill Travis and will probably try again—”

  “But he didn’t, and he won’t,” Dot interrupted with a wave of her hand. “The sheriff arrested him this morning. They’re charging him with arson and attempted murder. He’ll be sent away for a good long time.”

  “Thank God.” Ray breathed out a long sigh of relief. “But we have the welfare of the ranch, our reputations, and the people who depend on us for their livelihoods to think about.”

  Dot regarded him for a long moment and then settled back into her chair.

  “Sometimes you just have to follow your heart, Raymond.” Her voice, deliberately soft and soothing, never failed to put him at ease. “No matter where that may lead. If the heart that matches the beat of your own comes in the body of a man, so be it. Doesn’t change anything. You’re the same man you were yesterday. Better, even.

  “Though I would’ve appreciated you telling me sooner. I wouldn’t have wasted my time trying to find you the perfect woman.” She chuckled and glanced at Travis with a shake of her head and roll of her eyes.

  “But what if everyone turns on us, like Dway—”

  “That was over twenty years ago, Raymond.” Dot cut him off again. “Still a ways to go, but society has progressed since then. So maybe we lose a little business, but in this day and age, big deal. There’s much more to gain than lose, and you won’t lose those closest to you. I doubt you’l
l lose many ranch hands or buyers either. Wouldn’t be surprised if you gained a few more.”

  “Maybe, but how can this work?” Ray sighed.

  “Like every relationship, son. Love, understanding, compromise, and a lot of hard work.” Dot paused. “Don’t worry. This town loves you. You boys are going to be just fine. You’ve got me to keep you in line, and some good men out there who have your backs.”

  Ray looked a little shell-shocked. Dark shadows tinged the delicate skin beneath his eyes, complexion pale, shoulders rolled forward, and gaze unfocused somewhere beyond Travis’s chest. He hadn’t yet said a word since Dot left the hospital room a few minutes ago, satisfied that Travis had been properly fed.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Travis couldn’t help but ask. Too many times he’d raised his hopes only to have them lopped off at the shoulders.

  Ray reached for his hand and threaded their fingers. That melodic voice was rough but decisive when Ray spoke. “Without a doubt. I don’t ever want to go back to a life without you.”

  “I don’t either.”

  For the first time since he’d left White Deer, Travis felt happy, truly floating-on-air, to-the-tips-of-his-toes happy. Ray wanted him to stay, wanted him enough to risk everything for. Despite the drug-dulled throbbing pain in his side, Travis couldn’t remember ever feeling better than he did at this moment. Ray Ford, the serious, stoic rancher with those sexy, soulful brown eyes, had put him first—Travis Morgan, number one.

  That little kernel of hope that refused to be dislodged could finally dig its roots in and grow. After eighteen years, he was home. For the rest of his life.

  “Dammit, Travis. I almost lost you out there.”

  He gave Ray’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  Ray looked into his eyes with so much intensity, so much emotion, Travis couldn’t breathe. The language this man, his man, silently spoke filled his heart near to bursting. He didn’t need to hear the words to know he was loved. Ray said it with his soul.