Texas Fall (14 page)

“I haven’t, not yet. I
don’t get why it’s something he thinks I should read, I know there’s PTSD stuff
in there, but I’m trying to deal with it my own way, okay? And Eden is coming
out this weekend for a girly thing with Hayley, getting ready for the party, so
I’ll talk to her then.”

Jack hated that Riley had
changed the subject. Things were definitely not okay. Riley had woken him up
last night in the throes of a nightmare. They were all too frequent.

“Wouldn’t hurt to read
it,” Jack said. He worded it so it sounded like it didn’t matter one bit if
Riley didn’t. He was pleased when Riley scooped it up and took it to the
bedroom with them, although it got left on the dresser once they were there.

They climbed into bed, and
Riley immediately turned into Jack’s hold and buried his face into Jack’s chest
before turning his head. He was doing a lot of that kind of thing. Wanting
hugs, to be held, and he seemed most at ease when he had his ear pressed to
Jack’s heart. Jack just wished Riley would actually talk some more about what
had happened to him in Mexico. They hadn’t really made love since it happened,
nothing more than some mutual masturbation. It was something that didn’t sit
right with Jack and normally wouldn’t have been right for Riley either.

Jack buried his fingers in
Riley’s short blond hair and tugged him up for a kiss. Riley made a small noise
of protest but moved enough so he could meet Jack’s lips. The kisses were slow
and soft, and only when Jack was hard and needy did he press for more. And then
the inevitable happened.

Riley pulled away and
resumed his position in Jack’s hold with his head lying on Jack’s chest.

“’M tired,” he whispered.

Jack didn’t sleep. He waited
until Riley was asleep and was pliant enough to gently ease off him. Then he
slipped out of bed and pulled on his jeans.

This wasn’t a happy Riley
in his arms. This was a man who had demons, who couldn’t seem to rest, who was
on the go in avoidance mode as often as he could be. For a second, Jack stood
by the open door and looked back on Riley, curled in a ball on his side. Even
that was different. Riley was the kind to sprawl this way and that, stealing
covers and generally making the bed his own. That was one of the things Jack
loved, when he and Riley tussled for blankets and inevitably came together in
heated passion at any time of the night. The sex, the making love, that wasn’t
what was missing. It was the most basic of connections that Riley was not
making.

Grabbing his cell, Jack
let himself out of the kitchen door and found his familiar place at the fence.
Leaning against the solid wood, he dialed the first number he could think of,
the only person who could hear all his thoughts and not judge. It was late, but
he hoped to hell she was up.

She answered almost immediately.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Mom.” Then he stopped.
What kind of an adult man went running to Momma when he had a problem? He
should have called Josh or Beth or maybe no one at all.

“Jack? Sweetheart? Is it
the children?”

“What? No. Sorry, nothing
is… everything is okay.”

Donna let out an
exhalation of relief.

“Is everything okay?” Jack
heard Neil say somewhere in the room with his mom, and abruptly he was
embarrassed.

“All okay,” Donna answered
her husband. At that point Jack wanted to say good-bye and just forget he’d
even called, but she continued. “Hang on, Jack. Stay right there.” There was
some rustling and the sound of a door closing, and then she was back. “Sorry,
Neil was on call out last night, so he’s exhausted.”

“No, I’m the one who’s
sorry.”

“So talk to me,” she said.
She used the mom-tone, the one that spoke of a safe place to share news and
problems.

“It’s not… it’s… Riley.”

“What’s wrong with Riley?”

“He’s not himself, and he
won’t listen to me about going to a counselor or getting some help, and he’s
just shutting down whenever we’re alone.”

His mom hummed her
acknowledgment of his words. “Darling, he probably feels safe shutting down
with you. He went through something bad, and this is his way of dealing. Not
everyone needs to see a shrink.”

“You think I should just
leave him?”

“What does your instinct
tell you?”

Jack held back what his
instinct was telling him. His instinct had him using ties and a blow job and a
whole lot of edging to get Riley to open up to him. The approach had worked
before, why wouldn’t it work now?

Instead he kept his
response PG rated. “I want to get him to see that he’s wound up tighter than a
coiled spring.”

Donna chuckled. “Then that
is what you need to do.”

And just like that Donna
was pushing the whole thing back to Jack. She was right; there was nothing she
could do. He was the one with a lover who had nightmares. He was the one with
the man who curled in a fetal position in bed. Tomorrow morning he would tell
Riley exactly what he thought of everything and get Riley to do something.
Anything. No one knew Riley like he did, all the tiny insecurities, the size of
the man’s heart, and the worries and fears.

“You’re good,” he said
with his own laugh.

“I’m a mom,” Donna
replied. “Go to bed, Jack, tomorrow is soon enough.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too.”

She finished the call, and
Jack stretched tall in the cool air. A quick walkthrough of the horses and a
check on the security cameras in the back barn and he had no excuse not to go
back indoors. When he yawned as he shut the kitchen door, he realized he was
putting off sleep and that he would regret it come morning.

He made his way back to
the bedroom, already unbuttoning jeans and imagining his soft pillows and the
thought of warming up against Riley’s always-hot body. The sounds he heard when
he opened the bedroom door were enough to have him rushing to Riley’s side. He
knew he wasn’t supposed to be waking up a person in the middle of a nightmare,
but he acted on that instinct that his mom had reminded him of. Gathering Riley
into his arms, he held him tight even as Riley thrashed around in the hold.
Jack knew he’d have bruises, but he didn’t care.

“Wake up, Riley, it’s only
a dream, come on… wake up.”

As violent as the
nightmare was, it appeared to let him go quickly, and he went limp in Jack’s
arms. Jack reached past him and turned on the lamp and looked into damp hazel
eyes that were filled with resignation.

“No excuses,” Jack said,
firm and in control. “Tell me what you saw.”

Riley closed his eyes and
struggled until Jack let him go. “Nothing,” he spat. “That is it. It’s nothing.
I hold out my hand with the gun…” Riley extended one hand in front of him, his
arm shaking imperceptibly. “Then I fire, and it’s dark, and I’m talking and
shouting and there is nothing there, not even a darkness you can get used to,
just nothing, and my head hurts so badly.” To underscore the last statement, Riley
winced and pressed his other hand to his temple.

Jack didn’t know what to
say. Instead he grasped the shaking hand and tugged Riley closer, thankful when
Riley didn’t argue and instead tumbled into his hold.

“It’s okay,” Jack said
over and over. “You’re home, and nothing can hurt you now.”

They lay back on the bed,
and this time it was Jack with his head on Riley’s chest, listening to his
husband’s heart beat slowing from its frantic chase. They fell asleep that way.

When Jack woke in middle
of the night, he realized the side lamp was still on and Riley and he had moved
apart in sleep. Then he saw what Riley was doing, and Jack closed his eyes
again before he broke the spell of what Riley was reading.

Sean’s book.

Riley took his coffee out
to the fence, staring out into the distance with his head full of what he’d
read in Sean’s book. He needed the caffeine—he hadn’t turned the light out
until four and had read the book from cover to cover. So maybe an hours’ sleep
broken by a nightmare and a meeting at ten in the city and he was screwed. At
least he’d managed to get a shower and get dressed and it was the weekend, so
no school runs. But he was supposed to be carrying on intelligent adult
conversation with the team from Beta Four and he was losing the ability to keep
his eyes open, let alone concentrate.

Not for the first time, he
considered it might well be a better option to have offices on D land. Then he
could just walk from door to door. It wasn’t like he was in among the
backstabbing wheeling and dealing, he had staff to deal with that side of it,
and Tom was proving to be an astute and trustworthy support for Riley.

What he’d read last night had
gotten to him much more than he thought it would. To anyone else who didn’t
know Sean, it was an in-depth look at using equine therapy in PTSD cases. Not
necessarily in adults, but in children. He also wrote a lot about the
connection between horses and humans, about understanding, and the whole point
of the association.

Jack came to stand next to
Riley, coffee in his hand and looking just as tired.

“Sorry about the nightmare
and the light,” Riley said. Jack had told him it wasn’t a problem on more than
one occasion, but still, it must have interrupted his sleep.

Jack leaned and kissed
Riley, then slid a hand around him to hug him. “Morning,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You finish the book?”

Riley nodded. “Can I ask
you something that may sound really stupid?”

Jack frowned. “Yeah.”

“Horses. And you.” How did
he word this question? “Are you in tune with them? Do they…? Do you…?”

“Become attuned to each
other? Yeah. I know Solo is fixed to my mental and physical state. There’s
nothing like getting in the saddle pissed off only to have Solo show me in no
uncertain terms that I am being a dick.”

“Maybe I should spend more
time with the horses,” Riley said. He tilted his head in thought. “And I’m
going to reread the book. I think I’m not processing it all.”

Jack kissed him again, and
Riley felt abruptly lighter. Riley smiled, grabbed a handful of Jack’s shirt,
and kissed him thoroughly. “Missed you,” he whispered into the kiss. “Sorry.”

When they parted, Jack was
smiling, and even though this wasn’t done, it was a step in the right
direction.

“You never have to be
sorry.” Jack stopped as Max appeared at their side with his own sippy cup of
juice. Riley glanced back at Carol, who watched them from the door. Only when
Jack hoisted Max up to sit on the fence did Carol wave and go back in the door.
“We’ll talk later,” he mumbled.

“Hey, Max,” Riley said.
Max looked up at him, then away back to the house. Riley was used to the
infrequent glances and the lack of words, and he snuggled in for a cuddle,
which was the one way Max seemed happy to communicate. His hugs were legendary
and only given out to a select few. Riley, Jack, Donna, Sandra, Carol, and
Hayley all made the list. He would cling to Robbie’s legs but had begun to
refuse being picked up, particularly when he was riding. He was stubborn about
getting on the horse on his own, and no one stopped him. As long as he followed
all the rules and was safe, it was good to encourage the independence.

One of the horses came
over to the fence and nudged at Jack’s arm. Riley reached past to pat the
beautiful bay mare, and Max moved at the same time. All three of them patted
and fussed, and the connection was instant and right.

Maybe there was something to
this therapy that Riley hadn’t understood before.

He wanted to learn.

* * * * *

Darren watched Riley and
Jack from side of the house. They were talking and then their little boy—
Max?
—ran
over to them and climbed the fence. Darren didn’t mean to stare, but he wanted
some of what they had.

Hell, Darren hadn’t even
come out of the closet until he was eighteen for fear of what his family would
say. His dad was old-school Texan, tradition in his blood, and Darren’s brother
Hank, well he’d just been an asshole. When their dad died, the ranch had become
his and Hank’s, but Darren didn’t want any part of it or the homophobia or the
cattle or the horses. All he wanted was numbers and education and the chance to
leave and make a life for himself.

He’d been so close, then his
clandestine affair with Vaughn had become public knowledge and he’d had Hank on
his back, heard the hate. But he’d been packed. Ready to move away from the Bar
Five and the Triple-K, ready to see if Vaughn wanted to go as well. Arizona,
Montana, those places always wanted cowboys, and Vaughn was the best there was.

Then came the court case,
and Vaughn had left with Jack. Darren wanted so much to grab his bags and go,
but he couldn’t. Hank was in prison, and Darren Castille was the only one left
to run Bar Five, or rather what remained of it after Hank had cashed in so much
for his defense.

He looked down at his suit
and brushed it with his hands. Today was a big day, and he had to make this
work if he wanted a chance with Vaughn. He went back to the trailer and let
himself in.

“Why are you in a suit?”
Vaughn asked as soon as Darren stepped inside. He was still in boxers, his hair
messed, his eyes heavy with lack of sleep. Darren hoped to hell his face looked
healthier than his exhausted lover’s, otherwise he’d never get the job.

“It’s a long story,”
Darren hedged. The story wasn’t actually that long at all.

“All prettied up and ready
for me to take it off.” Vaughn leered and took a step closer with hands
outstretched.

Darren let out a very
unmanly squeak of distress. “No touching,” he snapped.

Vaughn’s expression
changed. He’d been sleepy and smiling, and now he was wary. “Darren?”

Darren held up his hands
in an effort to stave off the reaction he expected Vaughn to have. “I have an
interview, okay? At an investment bank in Dallas, in the accounts department.”

Vaughn’s mouth opened in a
parody of shock. Then he closed it again just as quickly. Evidently he had no
idea what to say.

“You’re here, okay? And I
want to be here, and I don’t want to go home, but I can’t sit on my ass.” He
waved around him. “The ranch, horses, there’s little to no accounting here.”

“If that is what you want
to do.”

“Riley commutes to
Dallas,” Darren said hurriedly.

“It’s not that,” Vaughn
said on a sigh. “Just, is the city really what you want? You hate the city.”

Darren winced. He hadn’t
expected Vaughn to be a blunt. “I hate the city, but I love you,” he defended.

“Then don’t go. Take a few
more days to think about what you want.”

“You sound like you don’t
want me staying.”

“I never said that.”

“I need to stay here in
Dallas, with you.”

“Darren, what I said last
night was true. I’m happy here in my work and with the people, but this place
is missing something, it doesn’t have you in it.”

Darren smiled softly. “I
want to be with you. I want to stay here, and I’ll do anything to make it
happen.”

“You can stay in here with
me as long as you need to, ’m sure Jack won’t mind. Just wait a bit before
making a decision on what you’re doin’.”

“I don’t care what I’m
doing, as long as I’m with you.”

Darren waited. He’d laid
all his cards on the table, and now he had to leave Vaughn to think about it.
He edged away from the window and picked up his keys, but he didn’t get to the
door. Vaughn grasped his arm and tugged him back.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really what?”

“You want to make a life on
the ranch? With me.”

Darren lifted his chin.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all along?” He had, but he knew Vaughn hadn’t
been listening, not really.

Vaughn worried his lower
lip with his tooth, a sign that he was thinking. Then he sighed heavily, and
Darren tensed. This was make or break. “I was waiting for you to want to go
back, to the money and what is yours. But being honest, all I really wanted was
for you to follow me here.”

A great weight lifted from
Darren at that simple statement, and he felt so much lighter. “You’d best wish
me luck with this interview, then.”

Suit or no suit, Darren
held onto Vaughn, and they stood there for the longest time simply hugging.
Finally they separated and Darren kissed his lover firmly.

“I’ll find you after,” he
said.

“Good luck.”

Darren jumped the small
height from the trailer to the road and left the D with a couple of hours to
spare until the interview. He would use the time to find some kind of housing; after
all, the two of them couldn’t stay in the trailer forever. If he got the damn
position, that was.

* * * * *

The building he parked
under wasn’t the tallest in the city, but it was impressive, at least fifty or
sixty stories of glass. There was a security entrance and reception, and it all
felt a little wrong, although he didn’t want to admit it. He’d made this
gesture to find a job, and he could handle the glass and the city if it meant
he got to go home to Vaughn at the end of the day.

The interview part went
well, lots of questions about what he’d been doing before and comments about
whether or not he knew this was an entry-level position. The practical part was
easy enough, and he lost himself in figures long enough to make sure he made
the best impression. They made all the right noises when he left, but his gut
was telling him he hadn’t gotten it. He was overqualified with his degree, and he
was too old for entry-level at this company. But he didn’t have the corporate
experience to work at a big company at a higher level.

Frustrated, he stopped at
the nearest Starbucks and ordered himself a latte. Only sitting in the window,
people-watching, did an idea begin to form. He didn’t exactly need the money a nine-to-five
job would give him. There was plenty left for a while after the purchase of the
Bar Five, despite the mortgages Hank had taken out on the place and the lack of
assets to sell other than the land. But that wasn’t his money. That was for
something else altogether. That couple hundred thousand sat in his accounts,
and he was using it to do something positive. Invest in the kids that Hank hurt.

So if I’m working for
myself, how am I doing this?
he thought. He hadn’t
much thought past the idea of it, but now, maybe he should really think about
what he could do. He pulled out his phone and opened the note app, listing the
possible clients he could work for.
Ranches. What I know.
Vaughn would
have to keep him in pasta and ham until he made any money, but that was beside
the point.

His cell vibrated, and he
knew who it was even before he answered. The company he’d just interviewed at. Apparently
he wasn’t being called back for a second interview. He thanked them politely.

He’d known that would be
the response. His heart hadn’t been in the interview. Not really.

The journey back to the
Double D was a slow one. Not because of traffic, but because he was thinking
and he needed the time and he doubled back on himself a few times. He even
pulled into a diner and sat for an hour scribbling on a set of four napkins set
out in front of him.

He’d need somewhere to
work. Perhaps he and Vaughn could set up a spare room or something in a house.
Anything would work. It wasn’t like he’d need a lot of space, just a filing
cabinet, internet, and a damn good computer. Maybe Jack and Riley would rent
him a small room off a barn, or hell, he could work at the trailer’s tiny
table.

When he reached the D, he
stopped under the large wrought iron sign and got out of the car, stretching
tall in the warmth of the sun. A car pulled up next to him leaving the D and
the driver lowered the window.

“Can I help you?” a man
asked. He was short with white-blond hair and dark brown eyes. “Are you lost?”

Darren felt like laughing.
No, he wasn’t lost, for the very first time in his life, he actually felt like
he had direction. Crossing to the guy, he held out a hand. Clearly this man was
something to do with the D. The light of recognition in the other man’s eyes
must have reflected in his. This was Marcus, Liam’s lover.

“Darren Castille. I don’t
know if you remember me, from the court, um…” He paused. “Vaughn’s partner.”

The other man took his
hand firmly, a strong grip for a little guy. “Marcus Walker,” he said. “I
remember you.”

Darren waited for
condemnation or something like it; after all, he was Hank’s brother. But there
was nothing.