Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The closer they got to Crooked Tree, the quieter Adam became. Ethan wanted desperately to say something clever to put him at ease, but not a single word sounded right in his head, so he stayed silent. Five miles from the ranch, he pulled the car over and stopped the engine.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked and peered out the window. "Are we there?"

"I stopped because this is close. We're really close."

Adam had slept on and off all the way from Billings. Not even the pills he'd taken had made him sleep soundly last night. The fact they were in Montana was playing with his head; add Crooked Tree Ranch to that, and Ethan knew Adam was stressed.

"Do we walk from here?" Adam glanced at Ethan with a confused expression. "I don't think we do, because I remember bits of this road."

"You do?"

"I think so," Adam murmured.

His gaze was now firmly fixed on the view of the Blackfoot River outside the car. Beyond that, the mountains rose dramatically behind grassed meadows.

"Really?" Ethan couldn't stop the hope that filtered into that one word.

"I haven't seen photos of here. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Ethan nodded and then spoke when he realized Adam couldn't see that. "Stunning."

"There's a pool. It's a heated one, but not a rectangle, not a real one." Adam turned in his seat to face Ethan. "I remember that I would swim. The water was warm and the trees bent over the water. Tell me."

"Silver Pool. Maybe? It's a mineral spring and is heated geothermally. It's not hot, but it's warm enough to swim. The water spills over into the lake. We all loved that place—you and Justin especially. Is there anything else you can remember?"

"I don't know. The feelings are weird, like a TV show I haven't seen for the longest time."

"Are you okay to do this, Adam? I stopped because we could go somewhere else if you want."

Adam huffed a laugh and turned to face him. "Where else do I go? No one misses me in whatever life I had since I left here, and I have no place to stay. This is my only link to anything real."

"You do have somewhere to go. We could stay in my place in Missoula for a bit. If you need to."

Adam smiled at him, a soft, sad smile that broke Ethan's heart.

"That would be delaying the inevitable. Let's go."

Ethan started the car and rejoined the road, with so many worries and thoughts of what could go wrong in his head that the remaining five miles vanished in an instant and all too soon they were driving down the entrance road and pulling into the parking lot by Branches.

"There's a restaurant here," Adam commented.

He hadn't made a move to get out of the car; something was keeping him in his seat.

"Something Jay is working on with Sam—he's the chef there. And there's Jay's office." He pointed up past Branches to the edge of Jay's office. "And beyond that are the three houses. Dad in the first one, Nate and his brothers at the top, and your house—yours and Cole's—in the middle."

Adam looked surprised. "I have a house? We have a house?"

"Between you and Cole, you own 33 percent of Crooked Tree."

"That doesn't make sense," Adam said.

"Your dad, Oliver, owned that much, so it passed to you and Cole when he died."

"No, I get that, but I mean… I have a house, a stake in this place, and seems like I had something with you, and good friends. Why would I have left?"

Ethan didn't have an answer for that one. He saw the small group of people walking down from the direction of the office and knew this was the moment they'd been building up to. At the front, Marcus walked with purpose and Ethan's chest tightened.

He hadn't seen his dad in months. The last time had ended in an explosive row about Ethan not wanting to work on the ranch, about how he'd abandoned his birthright. Usual shit, but enough to have put him off even visiting. Sophie was next to his dad, holding his hand, and he was glad for that; she had a steadying influence on Marcus.

In the same group was Nate and Jay—friendly faces—and Gabe, Nate's younger brother, Adam's friend from way back.

"I can't do this," Adam said urgently.

Ethan glanced over. Adam was as white as a sheet, his hands balled into fists, his eyes filling with tears.

They only had a few minutes before the group reached them. "I'll go. I'll drive you away if that's what you want," Ethan said. "Tell me what you want."

Adam looked at him, wide-eyed and breathing heavily. "They'll want me to be Adam…. I don't know how to be Adam."

Ethan gripped a hand, forcing Adam to unclench it, lacing his fingers with Adam's and holding tight. "I'll be right next to you," he promised.

"Shit, Ethan." Adam muttered. "Your dad… how can I even look at him?"

"Adam—"

"I'm not his son. He'll want to know why I'm here when Justin isn't. He'll…." Adam trailed away and bowed his head, tears falling freely. "I'm scared."

"Scared of my dad hating you're not his son?" Ethan summarized. He leaned in and bumped shoulders, as close as he could get in the car. "You want to go to my place? You want me to take you somewhere else?"

Adam didn't answer; he breathed through the tears and kept a tight grip on Ethan's hand. "I have to be okay. This is fucking stupid. What kind of man does this make me?"

"You're not stupid. Jesus, Adam."

Ethan looked up to see the small group of his family and friends stop a little way from the car. Sophie was talking to Marcus; Nate stood a few steps forward, forming a barrier between Adam and Ethan and the rest. He could step out and tell them that this wasn't right, that Adam wasn't ready. He'd do that, and it could be for the best. "Adam? You want me to talk to them? We can do this another time."

Adam looked up at him, his dark eyes filled with pain, his brow creased. "No." He swallowed. "I can do this." Then he squeezed Ethan's hand. "If you're with me, I'll be okay."

Ethan had never seen anything as brave before in his life, and he wasn't sure he would ever do so again. "Wait here."

He got out of the car, went around Adam's side and opened his door, offering a hand, which Adam took. Ethan helped him out, and when they closed up the car and stood close together, he could feel Adam shaking.

"It will be okay," Ethan lied again. He'd say anything to stop Adam from shivering in fear and shock.

"Okay." Adam looked right at him, focused in on Ethan's face.

Ethan made to release Adam's hand, but all Adam did was grip tighter. "Don't leave me," he said.

Together they stepped away from the car and up the slight incline to where the group stood, and then two things happened at once. Adam's steps became more confident, and Marcus walked toward them. They met in the middle. Marcus held Adam tight, and Ethan hoped to hell Adam would pull away before his ribs were crushed again.

Adam was crying, Marcus was crying, Sophie was there, Nate as well, Jay hovering, and just beyond, Ethan saw Nate's brother Gabe waiting, hesitating, his expression marked with shock.

"Thank God you're alive," Marcus said over and over, and allowed Adam to move back and away a little. "Nate tells me you don't have memories."

Ethan held up a hand. "Dad, don't jump on him straight away?—"

"I wasn't," Marcus said.

He looked hurt at the accusation, but Ethan wasn't falling for it; he'd been on the pointed end of a Marcus inquisition before. "Just, let's get somewhere to sit and talk."

"I only wanted to talk," Marcus said.

Ethan cast his dad a glance; he'd sounded broken, not defensive. Vulnerable.

"The house," Sophie interjected. "I have coffee on."

Sophie gripped Marcus's hand and led him back up the hill. Nate offered a nod of understanding and then followed them.

Which only left Gabe.

Adam squeezed Ethan's hand.

"This is Gabe," Ethan murmured. "He was a good friend of yours and Justin's when you were kids."

"Gabe. You were there when Justin fell out of the tree," Adam said.

Gabe took a step closer. Adam closed the gap, and finally they stood face-to-face.

Ethan watched Adam's expression. Confused, sad, then a small smile.

"Fucking hell," Gabe cursed before extending a hand. "I'm… I don't know what to do here. I want to hug you, but I know… shit. I'm Gabe."

"I know," Adam said. "You have a horse you called Lightning."

Gabe's mouth fell open. "You remember that? You remember me?" He sounded hopeful, but Adam shook his head.

"No, these things just… happen. I seem to remember horses a lot."

Gabe hesitated, but Adam took the initiative and hugged him.

Gabe clung on for dear life. "Welcome back, Adam. Fuck, I missed your face."

To his credit, his dad didn't ask about Justin until at least an hour after they all sat around the big dining table. Sophie had coffee ready, and there were cakes that Gabe said were from his girlfriend. Ethan refused to feel guilty about not knowing Gabe had a girlfriend; he had a job in Missoula, and there were reasons why he hadn't been to Crooked Tree. Still, seeing Gabe happy, and Nate too, he realized he had missed so much.

Then there was his dad. He looked older, frailer, not the rugged, ruddy-faced rancher who worked with the horses. This man was quieter, with the toll of the years and the grief he carried marked into every line of his face.

"And you don't remember anything about Justin?" Marcus asked. A hush fell over the table. Marcus coughed. "Or why you left? What happened? Do you remember any of it?"

Adam sought Ethan's hand under the table, and Ethan was happy to hold on if it helped. Adam needed that grounding touch, and Ethan had to be honest, it felt good to be the person Adam turned to right at that moment.

"I wish I did," Adam said finally.

"Being here, though… it could help, right?" Marcus pressed.

"He can't promise anything," Ethan defended when Adam didn't answer immediately.

"I wasn't talking to you," Marcus said without apology. "I was talking to Adam."

"Fuck, Dad, you don't stop, do you?"

"It's okay," Adam interrupted Ethan, and that was probably a good thing given Ethan's hackles were up at the tone Marcus had used. "I hope that being here will help me get my memories back," he said.

That was clearly the best thing to say, as Marcus sat back in his seat, looking like a weight had been lifted.

"I could get my son back," he murmured to no one in particular.

Yeah, Dad, because you only have the one son. The words were on the tip of Ethan's tongue, but he didn't say them out loud. What was the point? When Justin vanished, Marcus became a very different dad. Obsessed with finding his youngest son, to the point where Ethan and his relationship with him deteriorated.

But it wasn't all his dad's fault, and Ethan knew that for sure. He'd pulled away.

"I want to remember." Adam interrupted Ethan's introspection. "I'll try anything to get my memories back."

Ethan heard the words and dread gripped him. What if Adam recalled the life since Crooked Tree; what if he had a boyfriend? A family? A career?

What if Ethan had found him only to lose him again?

And how could he even be thinking this when Justin was still missing?

Abruptly, he couldn't breathe and not even holding Adam's hand was making him stay at the table. He pushed back his chair, shaking his hand free, and for a second he stared at his dad, wanting to spill out so many words: excuses, pleas for his father to love him. Fuck. The shit was circling in his head so bad that his chest was tight.

A hand on his arm, and Nate was there, right next to him, with Gabe behind him.

"I'll stay with Adam," Gabe said, and then Ethan was tugged out of the room and into the cold night air.

Nate pulled him—near dragged him away from the house and down toward the bridge over the river, where he stopped and encouraged Ethan to lean against the brickwork.

"Breathe," Nate said firmly. "In… out… in… out."

Ethan focused on Nate's voice, on the grip of Nate's hands on his arms, and he tried to still the emotion that threatened to choke him.

Grief started in the deepest recess of his heart, a prickle that grew and grew until it became something huge, overwhelming and all-consuming. He tried to focus on Nate's voice, but all he could feel was the grief.

Nate spoke softly. "C'mon, E, you can do this…. It's okay…. I know…, I promise you, I know."

"Is he okay?"

His dad's voice was the last thing Ethan wanted to hear right now, not when the red mist of anger was mixing with the grief and making it unbelievably hard to keep it all in.

"Go back inside, Marcus," Nate ordered.

"I'm not leaving until I know he's okay. What happened?"

Anger got the upper hand over the grief. All thoughts of how it was Adam here and not Justin fled at hearing the question in his dad's tone. "He isn't Justin!" Ethan shouted, staring at his father, allowing the venom bubbling inside him to spill out.

His dad took a step back, shock on his face as Ethan shouted. He should stop there, but he couldn't. "If you hadn't thrown him out, he would still be here now."

Marcus blanched and pressed a hand to his chest. "Ethan?—"

"Don't, okay. Don't say you're happy to have Adam here when you were determined they were dead. You stole every bit of hope from everyone around you."

Nate stepped between Ethan and Marcus and held up a hand to Ethan. "Ethan, that's enough."

Ethan shoved at Nate to get him away, and the surprise tactic made Nate stumble away from him and straight into Jay, who was standing behind him. Nate recovered quickly, but he didn't come closer to Ethan again.

"Shit, Nate, I'm sorry," Ethan said.

Nate looked at him in shock, and Ethan's guilt index ramped a little higher.

"I couldn't let myself believe it," Marcus snapped, interrupting whatever Ethan thought he was going to say by way of apology to his old friend. "I couldn't have that hope. And I don't expect you to understand."

"He was a kid," Ethan said, the words tumbling out of him. "You told him to leave, that you didn't want him here. I heard you, so don't stand there telling me that I don't understand."

Marcus paled. "You heard that?"

"What? You think I stayed away from you for my health? I hate what you did."

Unspoken was the "I hate you" that would have completed that sentence.

"You can think what you want," Marcus mumbled. "It was an argument that got out of hand. I didn't mean it. I just want my son back." He stepped away, turned on his heel, and walked back to his house. Sophie was there at his side, linking arms with him, but not before she'd stared back at Ethan, shaking her head a little. Was that a reprimand? Or a warning?

Ethan turned and braced his hands on the wall, staring down at the churning water as it spilled and hissed around the stones under the bridge.

He stayed there long enough for everyone who'd witnessed that shameful breakdown to have walked away. He didn't expect anyone to be standing there still, but when he turned back, he was shocked to see both Nate and Adam standing there.

"Are you okay?" Nate asked.

"I pushed you away," Ethan said miserably.

Nate stepped close and pulled Ethan into a one-armed hug, with some backslapping added for good measure. "I understand. Friends sometimes push friends around."

Nate moved away and looked at Adam, then left the bridge, walking past the Allens house to where Ethan could see Jay standing. Ethan owed Jay an apology as well before Jay could get all defensive of his boyfriend, so he raised a hand in a simple wave, which Jay returned. Ethan couldn't make out Jay's expression from here, but at least Jay acknowledged him.

"Are you okay?" Adam asked softly. He'd moved a little closer, bracing his hands on the bridge like Ethan had done. They were shoulder to shoulder, and Ethan liked that proximity, that evidence Adam was real, was here.

"Fucking lost my shit," Ethan muttered. He was embarrassed, exhausted, ashamed, and any one of a hundred other shitty emotions.

"Your dad—he and Justin argued and you heard it. Why did they argue?"

Ethan shivered in the cold now that the heat of anger had left him. "Let's walk."