30. Seth

Chapter Thirty

SETH

Seth braced one knee against the steering wheel, steadying the truck as he crept along at a snail's pace, and warmed his gloveless fingers with a puff of breath. The truck was cold enough to freeze a turkey. The full blast of the heater was struggling to defrost the windshield fast enough, so he flicked on the wipers and scraped away a bigger space to peer through the glass.

His heart twisted at the sight of Aiden, head down, trudging along the empty, snow-covered streets. He was swaying on his feet, pausing occasionally to catch his balance against a shopfront. Each step looked heavier than the last, but Seth knew better than to pull up alongside him and force him into the truck. Even an easy-going man like Aiden had his pride, and once it was riled, there was no talking him down. So, Seth followed at a distance, far enough that the rumble of his engine would be little more than a purr inside Aiden's booze-soaked brain.

Tessa and Aiden could call him controlling all they wanted, but there was no way he was going to allow Aiden to wander off, drunk and angry, into sub-zero temperatures. He'd done a lot of things wrong and made a lot of mistakes. If he could go back and do it over again, he'd have been honest with Aiden from the start—not just about the ionophore toxicity, but about his feelings for him. He'd always regret the time they'd wasted. But one thing he'd never budge on was his desire to protect him wherever and whenever he could.

Sweetwater was like a ghost town this late at night, empty and eerily silent. Every street was deserted, and the snow had a way of muffling even the crunch of his tires. His truck was an older model, so he was able to shut down his headlights and creep along unnoticed—or so he thought. His heart skipped a beat when the lone cowboy he was tailing stopped dead in the street and turned to face him.

They sat at a stand-off, staring at each other through the darkness of Seth's iced-over windshield, until Aiden eventually threw back his shoulders, widened his stance, and crooked a finger in a come-hither gesture.

"Fuck," Seth muttered under his breath.

He eased the truck alongside Aiden and left it idling quietly. Aiden stood there for a moment, his breath visible in tiny, rapid puffs, and then he yanked the door open so hard the hinges groaned in protest.

"If you're going to follow me anyway, you might as well give me a lift," he growled, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Always," Seth promised, but he couldn't resist adding, "You could've changed your mind before you were only a block from the trailer park."

"I'm not going home," Aiden said, bracing one boot against the dash and slouching in his seat. He looked like he was settling in for a long drive, and Seth's heart gave a hopeful little twitch. Maybe he wanted to go back to the Double Jay after all.

"Where to?" he asked in a measured tone, trying not to get his hopes up.

"My mom's place," Aiden said shortly. Even in the dark, Seth could see the muscles in his jaw tightening.

He hesitated. "It's the middle of the night, Aiden. Whatever you've got to say can wait until morning."

"I'm not going for her," Aiden said, staring straight through the windshield. "I'm going to get back the only real family I ever had."

"Aiden—"

Aiden shot him a sideways glance, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and defiance and deep, raw hurt that came from a source Seth couldn't even begin to touch. "If you're not gonna drive, I'll get out and walk," he said tightly.

Seth's knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel. With a sigh, he shifted the truck into gear and pulled back onto the empty street that would lead them out of town.

The weight of Aiden's silence as they drove crushed Seth more than he could have ever imagined. Aiden was never silent. Seth stole glances at him from the corner of his eye, disturbed by his distant expression. He'd never seen him so locked down. Aiden was always the laughing light for others. Whenever Seth needed him, Aiden was there, waiting with an outstretched hand. Seth had never struggled to reach him before, and it terrified him. He longed to say something—anything—to open him back up again, but he didn't have the words. He'd hurt Aiden so much more than he'd ever intended. Seth wasn't even sure it was about the two of them any longer. His lie had ripped open much older and deeper wounds.

When Seth pulled down the long driveway, the porch light was off, and the house looked dark and unwelcoming. He parked alongside the small barn and cut the engine, plunging them into sudden silence.

Aiden's head was turned away from him. He stared out the window for a long time, and when he spoke, it was so soft he could barely hear it. "She tried to make it feel like home, you know?"

Seth looked out at the dark property and tried to see what Aiden saw: the shadowed fence, snow-draped hedges, and a picturesque chicken coop that looked like something out of a magazine he'd find in a checkout line. It gave an impression of perfectly ordered serenity.

"Maybe she did," Seth said, unable to resist the impulse to touch. He reached out and grasped Aiden by the back of the neck, giving him a light, supportive squeeze. "But it wasn't for you. Everything she did was for herself. You didn't need a potpourri bowl on the back of every toilet. You needed a mom who didn't keep you walking on eggshells."

Aiden didn't reply. He waited another beat, then reached for the door handle. Seth caught him by the arm. "You're drunk," he said in a low voice. "You need to go home. Nothing good comes from forcing a confrontation at this time of night."

Aiden set his jaw. "I'm just here for my horse," he said stubbornly. "She won't even know I'm here."

Seth cursed and climbed out of the truck after him. He couldn't let Aiden steal the horse; Barbara Doyle was the type to call the cops on her own son. But maybe it wouldn't get that far. Aiden was lonely and hurting, and he refused to turn to Seth for comfort, so he'd come to the only other source for it he'd ever had. Seth figured he'd calm down once he'd seen and touched Bandit.

The night was the type of deep, inky black that swallowed sight and sound, muffling the crunch of their boots in the frozen grass. The barn felt like something he'd find premade at the back of a Home Depot, a tiny, well-maintained replica of his own weathered barn. The walls were insulated, and the warm, dry air smelled faintly of wood chips.

Aiden flipped the light switch by the door and led the way to the single stall at the far end.

Bandit poked his head over the door, ears on a swivel, and let out a friendly whicker of pleasure. He wasn't what Seth would call an attractive animal with his tiny head and big ears, but Seth had never seen Aiden love anything more.

"Hey, old man," Aiden murmured, wrapping his arms around Bandit's neck in a hug that seemed to last forever. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against his neck, and his entire body seemed to relax all at once. Bandit nuzzled him eagerly, nipping at the brim of his hat and knocking it off his head to mouth his hair.

Seth stood at a distance with his hands tucked in his pockets, watching and listening as Aiden stroked Bandit's muzzle and whispered to him in a low voice. He knew the feeling, the comfort of the strong, steady pulse of life radiating from a big animal.

"I'm a mess, buddy," Aiden murmured, so quiet that Seth could barely make out the words. His fingers tangled in the coarse hair of Bandit's mane, hanging on for dear life. His eyes were closed, and his face was scrunched and red even in the dim light. The anguish in his expression broke Seth's heart. "I've let you down, but I'm here now, and I’m taking you with me. Seth, can you hitch up the horse trailer?"

Seth frowned. "Aiden?—"

"Aiden? Whose truck is that?" Barbara's voice was shrill and alarmed as she stormed into the barn. She was more disheveled than Seth had ever seen her, wearing muck boots and a down jacket over a fluffy robe. Her hair was a frizzy halo around her pale face. She cast Seth a quick glance of loathing before approaching her son and grabbing his hand. "What on earth are you doing here so late?"

"I came to see Bandit," Aiden said, scrubbing his eyes in an effort to regain some drunken composure.

Her eyes widened, and she dropped his hand like a hot potato. "At this hour? What on earth has gotten into you?"

"I'm taking him with me," Aiden said flatly. He kept his tone neutral, but his shoulders had tensed at her first hint of disapproval. "He's mine."

Barbara's expression cooled. Seth could see her mentally digging in her heels. Aiden wore the exact same expression any time he was cornered. She crossed her arms over her chest and scanned her son from top to bottom, taking in his flushed face and disheveled appearance. "Are you drunk?" she asked in an appalled voice.

Aiden flushed an even deeper red at his mother's disgusted tone. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He kept his gaze trained on the ground beneath his boots, unable to meet her eyes, looking like a chastised boy.

Seth jammed his hands in his pockets, fisting his keys so hard that the metal bit into his flesh. He'd made a promise to himself years ago that he'd never get between Aiden and his mother, but it took all his willpower not to interfere.

Barbara whirled on Seth as if she sensed his objection. "How dare you bring my son here in this state?" she demanded coldly. "I want you off my property! I always knew you were a bad influence."

Aiden's head came up with a jerk. "Leave Seth out of this," he said angrily. "I make my own choices."

"Do you?" Barbara asked witheringly. "You always allowed this man to lead you around by the nose. Now that he's back in your life, you've been nothing but difficult! I won't have it. Both of you—out! Now!"

She pointed an imperious finger toward the door.

Aiden narrowed his eyes at his mother and stood his ground. "I'm not leaving without my horse."

Barbara scoffed. "That animal is mine. I paid for it."

"I was a kid!" Aiden shot back. "I've offered to buy him off you so many times, but you won't let him go. "

"How could I?" Barbara said, waving a hand dismissively. "You want to take him from his home just to—what? Board him? Stake him out like a dog behind that ridiculous trailer of yours? You're in no place to take on the responsibility."

Every word from her was like a carefully crafted bullet, and Aiden's body hunched to absorb the impact. The color drained from his face, leaving him like a strangely ashen doppelganger of the cocky, brightly grinning cowboy Seth loved. The woman made him feel small, and Seth hated it.

"Why are you like this?" Aiden asked in an anguished whisper. "Why can't you just let me have this one thing that's important to me?"

For a moment, Barbara's stony expression seemed to flicker. She hesitated, looking torn, but then her mouth tightened with resolve. "You don't know what you want," she said coldly. "You're like a child, always searching for the most expedient way to make yourself feel better about your failures. Bandit is a security blanket for you. Nothing more. I refuse to enable that kind of behavior."

Aiden's nostrils flared. "This isn't going to work anymore, Mom. You can't use him as a tool to control me. I've got nothing left. I'm finished trying to earn approval. I know now that I never will, not really, not for who I really am. I'm tired of putting on an act for you."

Barbara reeled back as if struck. For a long moment, the only sound was Bandit’s nervous stomping.

"After everything I've done for you, this is the thanks I get?" she whispered, pressing her thin fingers to her lips. "I know that I haven't always been the warmest mother, but I'm the only one who cares about your well-being, Aiden."

Barbara reached out tentatively to rest one hand on his arm, but Aiden flinched away. She blinked rapidly, and for the first time, Seth thought he caught a hint of real tears glistening in her eyes. They were there, and then they were gone. Her face stiffened, and she drew her frail body upright as if gathering reserves for battle.

"I refuse to continue this discussion in front of strangers," she said, shooting Seth a glare that should have dropped him on the spot. "You can come back when you're sober—and alone."

"I'm not leaving without Bandit," Aiden said firmly.

"Then you'll be leaving in handcuffs!" she snapped. She produced her cell phone from the sagging pocket of her robe and waved it. "Is that what you want? To humiliate us both?"

"Do it!" Aiden shouted.

Seth couldn't bear Aiden’s pain any longer. All he wanted was to hold him, tuck him against his body, and soothe away years of emotional neglect. His protective instincts roared to life, clawing their way out of his tight chest.

With a growl, he stepped forward and plucked the cell phone from Barbara's fingers. "Enough."

Aiden stared at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes. He looked surprised, as if he'd forgotten Seth was even standing there. He didn't look grateful. His expression was twisted into something Seth recognized, grief and despair so deep that the only choice was to bury it as quickly as possible before it consumed him.

"You've made your point," Seth said, training his unyielding gaze on Aiden's mother. "But this isn't the way to handle it. You're not calling anyone."

"This is none of your business," Barbara spoke with a disdainful sniff, but her voice lacked the venomous conviction of a moment earlier.

"Aiden is my business," Seth replied firmly. He stepped closer to Aiden and set a steadying hand on his shoulder. The muscle beneath his fingers was rock hard. "He's the only man I count on, the one I would trust with my home, my animals, or my sister. I'll always be in his corner, even when he doesn't want me there. I want to see him happy. I want to see him win . We'll leave for now, but we'll come back for Bandit once things have cooled down."

Aiden looked up at him, blue eyes swimming with drunken despair. "I'm not leaving without him, Seth."

Seth squeezed his shoulder gently. "We'll come back. I promise you. But this isn't the right time. You can't be impulsive about this, Aiden."

Barbara's lips parted, but Seth didn't give her a chance to reply. "You've said enough, Ms. Doyle. You're right; Aiden should never have come here this time of night. I'm sorry I brought him, but we're done now."

Aiden's breathing was ragged. He dug in his heels and resisted Seth's gentle direction. Seth waited, trusting him to make the right decision. Eventually, Aiden squared his shoulders and nodded. The hopelessness in his eyes was almost too much for Seth to bear. He kept a firm hand on Aiden's back as he guided him toward the door, mostly to keep him from turning around.

Barbara stood in the entrance, hugging the swaths of terrycloth and nylon to herself as she watched them leave. Seth held the door for Aiden and circled around the hood of the trunk, but he paused with a hand on his door and turned to meet her eyes. "You care about him? Then start showing it in a way that doesn't tear him apart."

Barbara's face remained stony. With a sigh, Seth climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. It took every bit of restraint he had to shift into reverse and back up calmly without spitting gravel in his wake. Aiden's mother was still standing, motionless, in the reflection of the rearview mirror as he pulled onto the highway.

"You shouldn't have done that," Aiden said, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. "She's right."

"No, she's not," Seth said harshly. He took Aiden’s hand, tightly threading their fingers so he couldn’t pull away. "Listen to me. I meant what I said. It doesn't matter if you never take me back or not—there's still no one on this earth I trust more than you."

Aiden threw back his head and belted out a broken, croaking laugh. He laughed so hard and for so long that he was panting for breath once it subsided. He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, choking on his laughter, and said, "Then you’re a goddamn fool. Once word starts to spread that I'm the one who fucked up your herd, no one's going to hire me. Whit's a soft touch, so he might keep me around, but it ain't like he ever gave me much responsibility anyway. If I want to pick up work now, it'll be in some strange bunkhouse across county lines."

"Bullshit," Seth said angrily. "Did it make me less trustworthy when you thought I'd done it? Did it make me worse at what I do?"

Aiden slouched in his seat and stared out the window. All Seth could see was the bulging cord of his neck and the bunched muscle of his clenched jaw. "That's different," he said through his teeth.

"How?"

"When it was you, it was one mistake in a lifetime of good decisions. But me?" He shook his head, eyes fixed on the dark landscape beyond the glass. He was so close that Seth could hear him breathing, but in that moment, he seemed impossible to reach. "It's just me fighting against the inevitable. I'm good for a laugh and a roll in the hay, but not much more."

"You're wrong," Seth said. "Come home with me, and I'll prove it."

"No." Aiden couldn't hide the sorrow in his voice, and that made it so much worse.

"Then let me come home with you," Seth said desperately.

Aiden didn't bother replying. He kept his face averted, retreating into himself in a way that seemed alien to the naturally vivacious man Seth loved.

Seth was half-tempted to duct tape him to the seat again. He wanted to escape into the mountains with him, hole up at the little hunting cabin by the lake, just the two of them, and keep Aiden naked beneath him until he admitted they were made for each other. But Aiden wasn't shallow or stupid, and he couldn't be easily swayed once he'd gotten an idea fixed in his head.

Seth gritted his teeth as he pulled into the trailer park. It was all he could do to keep from pulling Aiden back when he went for the door latch.

Aiden lingered in the open doorway for a moment, head down, face shaded by his hat brim. He toed the ground with his boot, and Seth caught the pale quirk of his lips pulling up in a ghostly imitation of a smile.

"Thanks, Seth," he said quietly. "For everything."

Seth leaned out the door and grabbed a fistful of Aiden's shirt, yanking him back into the truck and halfway across the seat. He slammed their mouths together with no finesse, grinding his lips in a kiss meant to punish. Aiden allowed it, but his mouth was unyielding.

"I don't want your thanks," Seth growled against his damp lips. His voice was like shattered glass. "I want you. Only you. Always you."

"I love you too much to do that to you," Aiden said, trying to inject some lightness into his voice and failing miserably when it cracked. He curled his fingers around Seth's fist and pried himself free. "You had the right idea back then," he said hoarsely. "You let me go once because you loved me. Now, I've finally grown the balls to do the same for you."

Aiden released him with a hard shove and slammed the door between them, effectively cutting off Seth before he could object. Then he walked swiftly toward his trailer, disappearing in the darkness beneath the broken lamplight.

He didn't look back.