12. Porter

It's August,the hottest month of summer, and Sully and I have kept our friendly, boss-employee relationship going pretty well. I catch him watching me, especially when I'm out with Storm. When I look his way, sometimes he'll immediately move on like he hadn't been doing what he was doing, but others, he'll give me that half-smile he's known for, the right side always kicking up more than the left, and just keep staring like he's daring me to call him on it.

I don't, even though that's not in my nature. Everything is more dangerous with him, me always trying to balance on a tightrope, knowing one missed step will send me plummeting. That's the thing Sully doesn't understand, can't understand. Between the two of us, if shit goes bad, I'll always be the one to suffer and he never will. I'll lose my job, or the respect of others, and he won't. He'll always have his family, his ranch, and I'll just be an angry hand who is replaceable.

"Come on. Ride the fence with me," Wade calls my way. I'm with Storm, having done most of my work for today. Dinner's coming soon, and while I'd rather spend my time with Storm, if there's a job to be done, I'll do it.

"Yep. On my way." I turn back to the horse. "Sure would like to take you out there. You think you're gonna let me ride you soon?"

He snorts, blowing hot air from his nose, and damned if I don't chuckle.

"I'm gonna get you to fall in love with me, Storm. You just wait and see."

I leave him in the pen, then head to meet Wade. My gaze automatically bounces over to where Sully always parks. His truck has been gone all day. I'm not sure what he's doing, and though it's been on the tip of my tongue to ask, I don't let myself.

Wade is holding the reins for his horse in one hand and Arrow's in the other. I give the gelding some love so he doesn't feel like I've forgotten about him since Storm arrived.

"Not sure I've ever met anyone as attached to horses as you." Wade climbs onto Rowdy.

"Yep. Like 'em a whole lot better than people." I give him a pointed look, and Wade laughs.

"I hear ya, kid, but don't think I believe that for a second. You love those animals, but you like people too. At least some of 'em. Don't think I haven't noticed how you been keeping an eye on the girl. Reminds me of someone else I know…hmm…who could it be…" He rubs his chin, and I grumble.

"You a damn comedian now or what?" I climb up onto Arrow.

"Nope. Just someone who sees things most folks don't take the time to see. Now let's ride before you get all salty on me."

I open my mouth to reply, but he's already got Rowdy moving, the gelding taking off at a steady canter.

I click my tongue at Arrow, who automatically starts moving too.

Wade cuts me some slack while we ride, not calling me out on Sully, Pixie, or anything else. We talk ranching life, and about shit that needs to be done, and the cow that had to be put down due to an infection.

I feel itchy in my skin the whole time. I have since the bonfire, to be honest. It might have only been a few weeks, but I haven't ever gone this long without heading out to a bar, finding somewhere public to play, or hell, a willing man to fuck.

Every day the need grows. It's always been like that for me, and even worse since I left Laurel Springs for the first time, like my body won't let me get too comfortable anywhere. Playing helps. Fucking helps more.

Sully always used to help.

There are no problems with the fence, so we return to the ranch. It'll start getting darker soon, the days shorter, less time to be on the ranch and more time in your head.

"My legs are killin' me. I can't wait to take a load off," Wade says after we get the horses put away.

"I'm gonna shower and head to Buck's."

"I'd ask if you want some company, but I already know the answer."

"You just said you were tired anyway."

"Yeah, but that's not the point."

I pull my hat off and scratch my head. "This is why horses make more sense to me." People make things hard.

"I guess you're right. I just like to give you shit. You could use a little razzing from time to time."

"I think you're losin' it, old man." I wink, and Wade chuckles. Goddamn him. I don't want to like him giving me a hard time, don't want him or anyone else to be able to get to me, but he can, and he does.

"Some things just get better with age, kid, and I'm one of them."

"At your age you must be a fuckin' saint."

This time we both laugh. In moments like this it's hard not to forget the past. Hell, in moments like this it's hard not to want to forget it, but my fear of getting hurt holds me back.

The rest of the guys are in the bunkhouse when we arrive. Big Jimmy made spaghetti, and we all dig in and fill our bowls—me and Wade washing up first.

I eat with the guys rather than heading straight for the shower. Jeb starts rambling about some woman in town, Bella, and how he's been trying to get her to go out with him. "She'll let me fuck her, but she won't let me take her on a date. What the hell is that shit?"

"I can tell you it don't sound like somethin' you should be complaining about," Bulldog counters. "Pussy with no obligation."

"Jesus Christ." Wade rubs a hand over his face. "Do you know the first damn thing about being appropriate?"

"Why the fuck I gotta be appropriate in here with you guys?" Bulldog argues. "Ask Porter. He'd agree. You want ass with or without obligation?"

I shrug. "Don't bring me into your shit. You're in this alone."

"How do you know he wants ass at all? Maybe he's a bottom," Otis adds.

"What the fuck is a bottom?" Bulldog asks, and then the light goes on in his head. "Ooh, so you're saying Porter takes the dick and don't give it. Well, hell. I can't see that happening. You can hardly get the guy to talk, much less loosen up enough to take a cock."

The guys all laugh as I wonder how in the fuck we got here, where in the hell this conversation is coming from, and why it makes me feel an unexpected twitch in my chest.

"My dick or ass aren't going anywhere near any of you, so I don't know why you're so worried about how I fuck."

Of course it's Bulldog who speaks first. "Well, I wasn't until Otis got me thinking about it."

"Jesus fucking Christ," I groan, dropping my head back.

"What? I never talked to anyone about gay sex before. I got questions."

Big Jimmy swats Bulldog on the back of his head for me.

"Don't ask me. Ask Otis. He seems to know a lot." I stand up and take my dish to the sink. We all clean up after ourselves around here, so I wash the bowl, then ignore Bulldog throwing questions at me, grab my clothes, and head for the shower.

It wasn't like this at any of the other ranches I've been at. I don't keep my sexuality a secret, but we also weren't talking over dinner about what a bottom is and what sex is like with two guys. I'll never tell them this, but I appreciate that they don't make a big deal out of it, that they talk about my sex life the same way they would about Bulldog's or anyone else's.

Still, I'm thankful the conversation is over by the time I get out. They're all playing cards at the table, Jeb looking over his shoulder to ask, "Wanna be dealt in?"

"Nah, I'm heading to Buck's." I hope no one asks if they can go as I grab my guitar. Contrary to what some people think, I don't get off on being an asshole. I just need space. It's how I'm built.

"Be good." Bulldog pumps his brows at me, and Big Jimmy swats the back of his head again. "Goddamn it. Why you always gotta do that to me?"

"Why you always gotta deserve it?" Big Jimmy counters, and the two of them start arguing.

I take that as my cue to get the hell outta there.

It's not that I'm looking, but it's impossible not to notice Sully's truck still isn't there. What the fuck is he doing? Not that it matters. After all these years, I don't know why he's still playing games with my thoughts like this.

The air smells like fall as I climb into my truck. The roads are dark on the way into Laurel Springs. Hardly any vehicles even pass me for most of the drive on the long country road. The stars light up the sky, billions of dots of light so damn pretty, they steal my breath.

"Look, Porter. Right there. It's a shooting star," Sully says.

"Missed it," I lie, holding back my awe at the light darting through the black night.

"Fuck." I try to shake that thought. This is definitely a good night for going out. I need it, need to fucking clear my head of my and Sully's past that's filling it up again.

Buck's is fairly busy when I walk in. There's a guy onstage, playing his guitar and a harmonica attached to it. A few people are sitting at the long bar with beers in front of them, some pepper the tables around the edges, with bar foods and drinks, and others are dancing not too far from the stage.

I head straight to the counter, and as I approach, the bartender looks up, his face familiar.

"Holy shit. Porter Dixon? I heard you were back in town. How ya doin', man?"

Winston went to high school with us. He's a year or two younger than me and Sully. I wasn't friends with him, partly because I wasn't friends with anyone, but he's looking at me now like we had been.

"Doin' good. Yeah, I'm back temporarily. Can I get a beer?"

"Of course."

I sit down and tell him what I want, and a moment later he's setting a bottle in front of me. "There room for someone else to play tonight?"

"Sure is. Thad is almost finished. No one signed up to go next, so you're welcome to it. You're back at the Sullivan Ranch, right?"

I grit my teeth, feel them grind together at his question. "Yep."

"That's nice. Well, it sure is nice to see you. Maybe we can get together sometime."

"I'm real busy, so I can't make any promises."

The light in his green eyes dims. "Okay, well, you know where to find me if you change your mind."

I nod, and he goes about his job, making drinks for a couple who just arrived. Thad, a man I don't recognize, is playing a few covers.

I sit back and watch him while I nurse my beer. My fingers itch to play, dance along the guitar case as if that's the same. A few songs later, Thad bids everyone good night, and Winston heads to the stage to introduce me.