by A. M. Arthur
And it didn’t surprise either of them that Colt followed them into the cabin and collapsed on Miles’s bunk. He’d only called Avery during the drive home from the hospital, “Because he doesn’t need to spend the whole night worrying like we are,” he’d said.
Their group had spent the whole night worrying, and Arthur wasn’t out of the woods at all. He was in the ICU, hooked up to all kinds of life support machines, and his doctor had given them fifty-fifty on Arthur waking up. And if he did, there was the possibility of brain damage, given how long he’d been without oxygen. They’d all grieved and wondered and supported each other, but Reyes had never seen Mack so devastated. So...helpless.
He was glad Mack had Wes to keep him together, just as he was grateful to have Miles in his arms right now, hugging him back, his head of dark curls resting on Reyes’s shoulder. So much had happened in the past ten hours, from rage over Dallas’s threats to shock over Arthur’s heart attack, and Reyes wasn’t sure which emotions were stronger. All he did know was the rest of his friends and family were safe in this moment.
It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do.
Reyes tried to nap, but his body was too keyed up, and when he glanced down, Miles’s eyes were open, too. Colt, meanwhile, was snoring softly on the other bed. “You’re incredibly even-headed in a crisis,” Reyes whispered.
Miles snorted. “I guess that comes from so many years of living in crisis mode. You learn how to focus on what’s important in the moment and filter all the other noise out.”
“You don’t have to live that way anymore.”
“I know, and I don’t just mean in my personal life. In the kitchen, every dish is one bad decision away from disaster. You have to keep a level head.” Miles stroked his finger down the front of Reyes’s work polo. “And I don’t know Arthur as well as the rest of you guys.”
“Your feelings are still important.” Reyes felt Miles’s shrug more than he saw it. He tilted Miles’s head back so he could search those pretty green eyes he loved so much. “Why would you think you aren’t as entitled to your feelings as the rest of us?”
Miles bit his lower lip. “I’m not used to being around people who let me put my feelings first, I guess. My parents didn’t care about my feelings for anything. When I was with Dallas, everything was about Dallas. Kevin at least kind of gave a damn, but we were only together a few months.”
“What about Wes?”
“Wes was the exception, but he was a friend, not a romantic partner. And when I met him, I was so used to depending on myself for everything, to keeping my feelings and problems bottled up, that I never really accepted the support he offered me. He tried to get me to talk about Dallas so many times, but I refused. Still, he never gave up on me. Wes is different, just like you.”
Reyes nuzzled his nose against Miles’s. “I’m here for anything you need, mi alma.”
“Promise?”
“Of course.”
“Then please don’t push me on this Dallas thing. I need to figure out what I want to do. What I can live with, okay?”
Reyes frowned, but Miles didn’t look scared or upset. He simply looked tired and determined. Reyes hated to think that the stranger in those video clips was another victim of Dallas’s, suffering in silence just like Miguel had, until it became too much to bear. But the stranger could also be another attacker. Miles was an adult; this was his choice. “All right,” Reyes said. “I won’t push. But I’m here for whatever you need, even if it’s only to talk.”
“Thank you.” Miles kissed him on the mouth, and then settled back against Reyes’s shoulder.
They both dozed, until Colt’s phone rang and startled them all awake. He took the call without seeming to look at the screen. “Yeah, hello? Shit, sorry, Ernie, we’re on our way up in fifteen.”
Reyes glanced at his own phone. After nine. “We missed breakfast.”
“There are always leftover biscuits.” Colt rolled off the bunk and stretched. “Gonna take a shower and pretend I actually slept last night.”
“Judson called Patrice early this morning,” Reyes said after checking his texts. “Said to keep this to ourselves until there’s an actual update on Arthur.”
Colt groaned. “Great. That’ll be fun.”
“Get out of here and take a bath. You stink.”
On his way out, Colt flipped him the bird, and it only then occurred to him that Colt wasn’t wearing any shoes. Had he worn any last night at all?
Reyes pulled Miles into the bathroom with him, and they took turns showering and getting ready at the sink. Miles didn’t bother shaving, and Reyes quite liked the dark stubble on his chin and cheekbones. He’d be gorgeous if he ever let a real beard grow out. They hugged in the living room for a long time, before going their separate ways—Reyes to his office, and Miles up to Bentley.
Putting on a brave face and trying to pretend everything was normal around the ranch was harder than Reyes expected. The first time Arthur had a heart attack, it had been a mild one and he’d been conscious for it. This time his condition was graver, and Reyes found himself looking for every excuse possible to avoid this week’s group of tourists. He didn’t want to see smiling faces and excited kids. He wanted Arthur to be okay, damn it.
Mack sent a group text at noon that there was no change. Miles called Reyes during the midafternoon quiet period at the saloon, but Reyes didn’t answer it. He sent back a “busy with guests” response, which was a lie, but Reyes wasn’t in the mood to talk.
Judson returned to the property a little before dinner, and Reyes met him in the kitchen to talk with Patrice. “We need to tell the other hands what’s going on,” Judson said. “Arthur’s stats haven’t changed at all, not for better or worse, and the other boys deserve the truth.”
“Especially if Arthur deteriorates,” hung off the end of that statement like toxic sludge.
“Agreed,” Reyes said. “Some of the guys have known Arthur for years, and they’ll want to go see him, especially if...you know.”
They all knew. Patrice wiped at her eyes, then turned to stir a pot of stew.
“Here at six thirty,” Judson said. “Most everyone will already be here for supper.”
“What about Ernie and Robin?” Reyes asked. “They’re out on the overnight camping trip.”
“I’ll tell them when they get back tomorrow.”
“Mind if I skip the meeting?” Patrice asked with her back to them. “I’d like to go visit Arthur as soon as supper is served to the guests.”
“Not a problem,” Judson replied. “You go as soon as you can.” He squeezed her shoulder.
Patrice reached back to pat Judson’s hand, but she didn’t turn around. They stood like that for a long enough that Reyes felt as if he was interrupting something, so he sneaked out of the kitchen through the back. Headed for the barn and right to Hot Coffee’s stall. She wasn’t there and the stall door was unlatched, which irritated the hell out of him, and he went to check the log sheet.
She wasn’t out as part of the overnight, and no one was leading a trail ride right now. Quentin was in the tack room when Reyes stormed in. “Where’s Hot Coffee?” he asked.
For a moment, Quentin looked at him like he was nuts. “Oh, your horse? Should be in her stall.”
“Well, she’s not, and she’s not on the log book.”
“What?” Quentin dashed out of the tack room and did exactly what Reyes had done: checked both the stall and clipboard. “Shit.”
First Dallas, then Arthur, and now his favorite fucking horse? A cloud of anger swirled around Reyes’s head as he glared at Quentin. “Where the fuck is my horse?”
* * *
Miles spent part of his day telling other ghost town employees he wasn’t going to gossip about why Mack and Wes had taken the day off again, and the rest of it stuck between worrying about Arthur and about Dal
las. And all that worrying had started to affect his cooking—he burned a few burgers, misread and mis-filled orders, and after Shawn joked about Miles being hungover, Miles put his turner down and let it all out.
From Dallas’s threats to the birthday he didn’t remember, all the way up to getting home from the hospital this morning, and Shawn silently gaped at him while Miles released his verbal diarrhea. By the end, he wasn’t sure if he felt better for venting, or worse for dropping all that on Shawn’s shoulders. Yes, they were friends, but not the type of best friends who shared this kind of thing.
Except Shawn didn’t look annoyed or shocked, even. He seemed outraged and sad, which was an odd combination.
“Jesus Christ, dude,” Shawn finally said after a moment of silence.
The tiny computer spat out a ticket, but Miles ignored the order. “I’m sorry to throw all that at you, man.”
“It’s okay. Seriously.” Shawn stalked to the computer to grab the ticket, but he simply stared at it a beat. Then he looked at Miles again, his expression stony. “You’re going to the cops, right? About the videos?”
“I don’t know. I should, but what if the cops don’t take me seriously? They treated my protection order like a joke.”
“That’s because men are raised to believe we’re the strongest and we can handle anything on our own. Protection orders are for women against men, not vice versa, or a dude against a dude. But it takes a strong man to ask for help, Miles. Stronger than the one who tries to face down trouble alone when he knows he can’t handle it.”
Miles let out a long, frustrated breath. “You’re right. I don’t want to go alone, but Reyes has so much going on right now with Arthur being sick. He needs to be strong for Mack and the others.”
Shawn tilted his head. “Want me to go with you? Tomorrow’s our day off.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Plus, I was a witness to what happened when he showed up here to harass you.”
Genuine gratitude warmed Miles’s heart. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem at all.” Shawn waved the ticket in the air. “Better get on this before Annabelle comes back wondering where her food is.”
“Definitely.”
With so much off his shoulders, Miles finished his day with no more issues. Since they were closed the next two days, Miles sent Annabelle, Emily, and Shawn home with leftovers. Miles took the last quarter of a Mock Apple pie with him back to the ranch. It was after seven before he got home, and he was silently debating on whether or not he should tell Reyes about his decision, but the cabin was dark. Empty.
Miles checked, but he didn’t have any new messages or texts.
Just checking in. Home now. See you soon?
He’d gotten so used to Reyes being there, waiting with food from the guesthouse, that coming home to an empty cabin rattled him, especially with everything going on. He went next door to Colt’s, only for Avery to open the door—a few inches only. Avery was also bare-chested, so this wasn’t a good time.
“Hey, have you seen Reyes recently?” Miles asked.
“No, not since I arrived,” Avery replied. He looked over his shoulder and repeated the question to Colt, wherever he was in the cabin. “No, sorry, Colt hasn’t seen him since lunch, but he heard a rumor one of the horses was missing.”
Miles jolted with surprise—not only because of the missing horse, but because Colt wasn’t all over that rumor. Maybe he needed time with his boyfriend more, considering the current Arthur crisis. “Okay, thank you. See you guys at breakfast?”
Avery winked. “Sure thing. Night, Miles.”
He stood on their porch a beat, unsure if he should go check out the missing horse rumor, or simply wait for Reyes to come home. His phone rang with Wes’s ringtone. “Hey, man, how are you holding up?”
“With spit and duct tape,” Wes replied. “Still no change, in case you were wondering, but that’s not why I called.”
“It’s not?”
“No, I was curious how badly Reyes is freaking out right now? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man actually freak out, but I can kind of imagine it.”
“What? Why’s he supposed to be freaking out? You said there was no change in Arthur.”
“Oh hell, you don’t know? Reyes called about an hour ago and told Mack that Hot Coffee is missing.”
Miles nearly fell over. “What?” He strode toward the barn. Reyes adored that horse. “How can she be missing?”
“Don’t know, but all of the guests are accounted for, so no one’s out riding her without permission. The GPS system they use to track the horses is down, so they have to do a manual search. Reyes said her stall door wasn’t latched, so it’s possible she got out on her own, but how does no one noticed a big brown horse wandering the property?”
“Shit, this is bad.” A few feet up the path to the barn, Miles froze when he spotted a familiar, muscled figure stalking in his direction. “I just found Reyes. Call you later.”
“Good luck.”
Miles waited for Reyes to close the distance, not surprised to see anger blazing in his dark eyes and flushing his entire face. He was shocked, however, when Reyes strode right past him without even glancing his way. Tamping down on his hurt, Miles trailed Reyes back to their cabin and shut the door before speaking.
“Did you find Hot Coffee?” he asked.
“Scott did,” Reyes said to the floor. “She’d wandered to the west, about halfway between here and Mack’s place.”
Relief flooded Miles’s chest. “Thank God.” He stepped closer and put a hand on Reyes’s shoulder.
Reyes pulled away.
Miles’s stomach sank. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. Just can’t figure on how she got out. Last hand who had her out swears he latched the stall door. None of the guests saw anything they’re admitting to.” Anger rolled off Reyes in waves, and it kept Miles from reaching for him again.
He also hated seeing his boyfriend so distraught. First Arthur, and now his horse? “Hot Coffee is home safe and sound, that’s what’s important.”
“Could you go away, please?” Reyes finally turned around, his expression so fierce that Miles took a step backward. Scared of the man for the first time since meeting him. Reyes hadn’t shouted the question, but he’d put enough force into the words to sting.
Miles’s gut quivered and he backed up two more steps, until his butt hit the door. The strength of Reyes’s emotions kicked his flight instinct into high gear, but he couldn’t unlock his muscles long enough to flee the small cabin. A small cabin overrun with negative emotions, and Miles didn’t want to leave Reyes to deal with it all alone.
“I can’t take care of you right this second,” Reyes said. “I just...not with everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. Dallas, Arthur, Hot Coffee. I just can’t deal, Miles, please.”
“You don’t have to take care of me,” Miles replied, his voice as soft as Reyes’s had been harsh. “Let me take care of you. It’s what partners do.”
“Maybe I don’t want that. Maybe I need to be alone.”
“Maybe I don’t believe you. I won’t let you push me away because you’re hurting. You don’t have to be strong for everyone all the time, Reyes. You don’t have to always be strong in front of me.”
The instant Reyes’s eyes narrowed, Miles knew he’d hit the proverbial nail square on its head.
* * *
While Reyes was used to Mack calling him on his bullshit, he hadn’t anticipated Miles reading him like a goddamn book and doing the same. Reyes did need to be strong for Miles, at all times, or he ran the risk of exposing the darkest side of himself to Miles. The side that had driven him as a teenager, right into the arms of a gang, and into a lifestyle that destroyed others.
If Miles ever knew the depth of the pain Reyes had infli
cted on other people—people with the same inner beauty and sweetness as Miles—he’d never trust Reyes again. If Miles saw the real extent of Reyes’s temper, he’d run, and Reyes couldn’t stand the idea of scaring Miles. Not ever. He’d been scared enough, hurt enough.
“Yes, I do,” Reyes replied. “I do have to be the strong one. For you, for Mack and Wes, for Judson and the rest of the goddamn staff. I need to keep it together and keep this place running, and I can’t do that if I lose my mind. I will not do that in front of you.”
Miles’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms, some of his fear turning into annoyance. “Why not? Because I’m such a delicate fucking flower that I fall apart over an ex sending me a video clip? I have weak moments, but I’m not weak inside. Sorry I acted human for a while, Reyes.”
“I don’t think you’re weak.” Miles was one of the strongest people he’d ever known, and he’d come out of some horrible, stinking shit with a fresh start and hope for his future. How could Miles believe Reyes thought he was weak?
“No? Then put some of your shit on my shoulders. I won’t break.”
“I can handle it.”
“Clearly, while you’re standing way over there and demanding I leave our home.”
The way Miles said “our home” broke Reyes’s heart a little bit. He wasn’t kicking Miles out, only asking for space to vent his frustration and control his temper. Why was this such a huge ask? “Fine, I’ll go.” He was too riled up to ride, but maybe a long walk would clear his head.
Except when Reyes approached the door, Miles held his ground. Shoulders back, chin up, eyes still wary, but Miles wasn’t moving. The sheer determination on display gave Reyes hope for whatever happened with Dallas, but right now, Reyes needed space. “Miles.”
“What?”
“Please, move.”
“No. If you want out before we talk this through, then you’ll have to move me.”
