23. Rowdy

23

ROWDY

Disappointment colored Woody’s features. “I’m guessing that you don’t give a shit that Kess is Emery’s best friend and that adding him to your extensive list of one-night stands the second he moved onto the property was a selfish, shitty move.”

His judgment stung as bad as a killer bee sting, and shame flooded my guts. Woody was as loyal as they came, and even though neither of us thought he’d ever be a family man, he was as protective of Emery’s and Stevie’s peace and happiness as he’d always been of mine.

Unfortunately, his opinion of what he’d just seen was based on the lies I’d been shoveling for years.

The Dalls started banging on their preferred feed station again, but Woody ignored them. “You haven’t brought one guy over this whole time you’ve been living here, and the first time you do, it’s Kess. Make it make sense.”

There was a frustrated sort of sadness to his words, and I didn’t have it in me to goad him while layering on more bullshit like I might’ve in the past. Instead, I held up my hands in surrender.

“I hafta refill that feeder before these guys riot, but there’s a conversation that you and I need to have. If you want, we can ride out like old times and check the rest of the feeders.”

Woody grunted—a good sign—then wordlessly cleaned and refilled the water troughs while I fed the Dalls and took care of the horses and injured animals in the barn. We’d normally refill the feeders on Woody’s Mule, but this conversation required something quieter. Something closer to nature.

And talking on horseback was how we’d always handled the hard conversations.

After taking care of the animals by the cabin, Woody and I added our detachable saddle bags full of feed to the horses’ tack, then headed out.

It had been a while since we’d ridden together, and despite Woody’s initial annoyance, we settled into the tradition we started when he bought this place. Riding out to the hilly fields lowered the temperature between us, and by the time we got to the first feeder, Woody looked like he was ready to listen.

He’d never been one to push for words that hadn’t yet come to me, and that was a good thing because I was still scrambling after twenty minutes on horseback.

We hopped down and Woody unhooked the rope from the tree, then lowered the hanging feeder so that I could check it. It was about three-quarters of the way full, but I unclipped the saddlebag and topped off the feeder anyway because I needed the extra time.

Woody raised the feeder and set the rope while I returned to Huck and clipped the bag back in place. I grabbed the pommel, then touched my forehead to the saddle as emotions flooded my chest.

“Cousin, what’s going on?” Woody asked, stepping in next to me.

I glanced over at him and gone was the judgmental glare from before, now replaced with a look of concern. I’d only just spent the night with Kess, so everything felt like it was happening all at once. In reality, though, this conversation was long overdue.

“I haven’t always been honest about who I really am,” I finally said, barely able to speak.

“Are you not my cousin?” Woody asked, perfectly mirroring my pose.

“Oh, we’re definitely related.” I bit at my upper lip, shaking my head. “I’m just not the lovable slut everyone thinks I am.”

There was only silence from Woody, so I snuck another peek in his direction. His eyebrows were bunched together, his face serious.

“I never thought you were.” He lifted a shoulder. “I was pretty sure all the sleeping around was a coping mechanism.”

“Really?”

He tapped his chest. “You’re just as soft as me underneath all the bullshit.” His smile was warm and a little sad. “A family trait, I’m afraid to say. I just wish you didn’t keep throwing yourself at people who can’t take care of your heart.”

“I wasn’t ignoring my heart, Woody.” I took a deep breath, knowing this next part would change things. “I don’t sleep around. Never have, actually.”

He stilled, confusion marring his expression. “But...”

I needed to explain myself, so I went in with a topic he and I’d discussed a few times before.

“You know how my parents really, really hate the fact that I’m gay, right?”

“Of course.”

“When they kicked me out, I had to find friends fast. And the first thing you hear about the gay community is that sleeping around is sort of part of the culture.”

“Not for everybody,” Woody said, gesturing to himself. “That can be a really harmful stereotype?—”

I held up my hand. “I know. I know exactly how harmful it can be. But I’d just lost everyone except you, and I learned pretty quickly that sometimes you need to lie to fit in. Even though, in retrospect, I could have trusted my friends with the truth, fitting in was survival at that point.”

“So...you started, what? Acting like you were sleeping around even though you weren’t?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my head. “I got a lot of admiration for it. Judgment, too, but mostly admiration.”

“Something in short supply in our family,” Woody said, shifting on his feet.

I nodded. Any self-confidence that Woody and I had was hard won and grown in soil that was never meant to support such an endeavor.

“Fine, I get wanting to fit in with your friends, but why lie to me?”

It was hard to miss the hurt in that question, and I knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Neither of us had a whole lot, Woody. At least not until you started making money on your poems.”

“Yeah, but whatever I had was always yours. You know that.”

“Yes, I do know that. But I went through a rough patch for a while there, and I knew you’d have given me everything you had, but you had your dreams and I couldn’t take from you like that. Sleeping around felt like a better excuse than telling you where I really was.”

“Where were you?”

If he didn’t like that answer, he was going to hate this one. I remembered our group counselor’s advice, though, and chose to trust Woody with the hard truth.

“Until I got enough side jobs to cover that first shitty apartment, I sometimes slept in my car. And sometimes I stayed with friends who I knew you wouldn’t like.” I shook out my hands. “And, rarely, I’d give hand jobs to guys who’d let me sleep on their couch if I asked.”

Woody went quiet again, but this time when I looked over at him, his eyes were welling with tears.

“How did I not know that?”

“Because I didn’t want you to.”

“But why? There’s no way in hell I’d have ever let you fucking sleep in your car, Rowd. And there’s certainly no way in hell I’d ever?—”

“Where was I going to stay?” I asked, not wanting him to repeat what I’d said. “In your family’s little shithole trailer while your mom was dying? That one-room apartment over Mr. Whatshisface’s garage? Your one-room cabin?”

“Rowdy...”

A tear tracked down his cheek.

“I’ve been going to group therapy, Woody. By the way, that’s where I really met Skylar, not at a club. I don’t like the clubs.”

Woody looked down and toed the dirt, like maybe something about that hurt his feelings.

“It’s hard to talk about it outside of the group,” I said, trying to explain. “But it’s helped me to learn why I did things the way I did.”

“That’s...good,” Woody said, more to himself than to me.

I knew my cousin very well, and he’d have wanted to be the one to come in and fix all of my problems for me. But that wasn’t his job.

“It’s given me perspective, for sure.”

“What kind of perspective?” he asked.

“Like I said, looking in the rearview, I know there was a lot I could’ve done differently, including letting myself lean on you a little more.” Woody opened his mouth, no doubt to confirm it, but I shook my head. “But also, maybe not. Being raised in that house, Wood...you have no idea.”

“Tell me.” His soft request reminded me that, as hardheaded and judgmental as he could seem, my cousin loved me unconditionally. Something I’d forgotten in all of my lying.

“Everything about me was always wrong. Nothing I did made my parents happy, and trying to win their affection only made them resent me even more.”

Woody snorted derisively. “Resent you for their choices? Like you purposefully came into the world to destroy their lives?” He spit in the dirt. “Fucking assholes.”

I let out a dry laugh. He never did hold back his opinion.

“When I think about that little kid who tried so goddamned hard to make his parents love him, especially knowing now that they were never gonna...” I sniffled loudly. “You were the only good thing in my life, Woody. For a really, really long time. And once I was on my own, the thought of overstaying my welcome, of ruining this relationship...?”

A lump formed in my throat and I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

“Must’ve been terrifying,” he said, his understanding a balm to my soul.

I nodded, then wiped the tears that’d refused to stay back.

Woody stepped up to me and pulled me into a bracing hug. We didn’t say anything for several moments, both of us holding onto one other, ridiculous, sniffling messes.

We released each other, and I took a few calming breaths. “Then, when I realized I needed help, I felt stupid admitting it.”

Woody grumbled at that but seemed willing to let me talk.

“So, I’d lie about why I was going into Austin. And Skylar, who had a similar past, had quickly become a good friend and offered to let me rack out at whatever sugar daddy’s place he was staying at.”

Woody nodded along, biting at a hangnail, thinking through my words. “Can I ask—what does that have to do with Kessler leaving your place this morning?”

“I’ve been in love with Kess for a long time,” I admitted, avoiding Woody’s eyes. “And even though I’ve had some experiences, sometimes under shitty circumstances, the truth of the matter is that I’m demi. And it took me a really long time to tell him I had feelings for him.”

A line appeared between Woody’s brows. “Demi as in demisexual?”

“Yes.”

“So that wasn’t a one-night stand?”

“ Blech .” I shuddered. “ No .”

He chuckled. “You really are demi, aren’t you?”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Yes. And shut up.”

Woody’s look was thoughtful. “Emery had said something about the two of you flirting with each other and had also mentioned that you were going into Austin for some volunteer work? But I didn’t think you were serious about either.”

I wasn’t shocked to find out that some of what I was doing had reached his ears.

“Oh, I’m very serious. About both. In fact, there’s this mom and son I’m trying to get out of a terrible situation, and now Kess is helping.”

“What’s your plan?” he asked, going into fix-it mode.

“I hoped that Kit might have an opening, but he hired the land manager already.”

“Yeah, Lane Somethingorother. But he still needs to replace his office manager.”

My eyes widened and I grabbed his arm. “Really?”

Woody nodded. “It’s been frustrating for him because he needs somebody who’s responsible and willing to either live on-site or drive out there. He’s seen a few people but hasn’t been impressed.”

“My gal has all sorts of management experience, and her thirteen-year-old son is six-three and wants to be put to work.”

Woody raised his brows. “A two for one? I can see that working really well for Kit.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “But this isn’t the last that we’re going to talk about everything you just said. If you and Kess are serious, then I’m happy for you. Genuinely happy for you. But I can’t have you walking around thinking that you can’t share your life with me, Rowd. We’re all we got from that goddamn family, and, sure, we’re lucky with Emery and his family and our friends, but you and me? There can’t be secrets between us. And definitely no lies.”

I pulled him in for another hug. “I promise. No more lies.”

Woody sniffled, then patted me on my back. “Okay. Enough crying for one day. Let’s take care of the rest of these feeders.”

And on that note, we separated and mounted our horses, riding out, closer than ever.