2. Porter

I don't knowwhat in the hell I'm doing back in Laurel Springs. I swore to myself I would never see this town again. I thought I meant it, but I've also always been itchy. Like my skin feels too tight if I stay in one place too long, and there are only so many ranches to choose from, so I figure I'll let my wandering soul take a journey back to where I came from.

It doesn't help that I got fired from the last place after I got caught fucking the ranch owner's son, Travis. He wasn't out, and his daddy didn't take too kindly to having a queer son. Travis is older than me, thirty-two, but he still lets his dad run his life. He laid all the blame on me, as if he wasn't the one who'd approached me in a bar bathroom one night, as if he hadn't been the one to ask to get on his knees for me. So I was kicked out, and Travis is gonna go on pretending, something I swore I would never do.

I don't hide my sexuality for anyone—haven't since I left Laurel Springs. I'm as gay as they come, and if someone don't like it, well, they can kiss my ass.

But I also can't pretend I'm not a little impulsive…the thing with Travis is all too familiar, only with him, it really wasn't more than just sex.

I pull my old Ford up in front of the only hotel in Laurel Springs, where I go inside and get a room for the night. It smells like pinecones, likely from the bowl of them on the table. The hotel is aged, just like everything else in Laurel Springs. It needed an update when I lived here eleven years ago—and that flowery wallpaper that doesn't match on one wall is still here.

I collapse onto the bed, which is firm, just how I like it. I've spent too many nights sleeping in the dirt to like any kind of soft mattress.

A heaviness had settled in my gut the second I pulled back into Laurel Springs, a tingle in my feet that wants me to head back to my truck and drive the fuck outta here. I've lost everything that ever mattered to me in this place—my momma, my dad, and a family legacy. And here I am, planning on going to the same exact ranch and asking about a job.

What am I gonna find when I get there? I heard that Bishop married Aimee not long after I left. They probably got a couple of kids running around now, the next generation to manage the ranch.

Anger burns through my chest at the thought, setting everything in its path on fire.

I don't care about him. I don't. I've got something to prove to him, though. Too bad I don't know what it is. That I'm one of the best at breaking horses in the whole damn country? That I don't give a shit about him or what his family took from mine? Only one of those things is true, but I sure plan to make Sully think both of them are—Bishop, I try to remind myself. Sully is the man I used to laugh with and taste the sweat off his skin. I need to remind myself there's a difference.

Sully, I cared about. Bishop, I want to prove something to. The ranch has been struggling to keep good people, that much is obvious. This ain't the first time I've seen them looking for hands. I'll head to the ranch, show them what I can do, then be on my way again. I don't belong in one place too long. That just ain't me.

I open my case, pull out my guitar, and start to play. Other than ranching, it's the only thing that brings me any peace.

* * *

The first thing I notice is how it looks the same as I pull up to the open ranch gate—a black, metal, intricate design of the Colorado countryside. Along the top, in a curved scroll, it reads: SULLIVAN RANCH, with a stone pillar on each side of the gate.

The rock in my gut feels like it weighs a ton now, the back of my neck prickling like it used to do when I could feel Sully watching me. It used to make my dick hard, make me want to smile even though I hate smiling, but now it's all discomfort and anger. Seeing him with Aimee, so soon after we fucked and I found my momma dead… It's all I can see when I think about him.

Get outta here. What the hell are you doing back at Sullivan Ranch?

I ignore that voice because I'm pretty good at ignoring things that make sense, instead driving down the long gravel driveway leading to the main house.

It's just as beautiful as in my memories. I remember thinking it looked like a mansion when I was a kid, and despite knowing it isn't one, it's bigger than anything I've ever had, all dark wood and stone pillars and fireplaces, this style of wealthy rustic that owners of large ranches like this can afford while the hands are all sleeping in the same building that ain't nearly as nice.

I ignore my twitching muscles and get out of the truck. I see him almost instantly, standing in the corral beside his father. They're watching one of the hands with a horse, with their backs to me. There's a good distance between us, but I would recognize Bishop Sullivan's ass anywhere. The man can wear a pair of jeans like nobody's business, and man, I hate him for that too.

He's lean and muscular, a little thicker than he was when I left. I wonder if his hair is the same as it was before, light brown with unruly wisps curling over his ears. It's still short enough to be hidden under his cowboy hat.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then turns as if he can sense something. I'm pretty sure his gaze lands on the truck first, then me. Sully—Bishop—takes one step, then another and another before he pauses, as if unsure what to do or if he's really seeing what he thinks he's seeing.

"Can I help you?" Another man approaches. I'm not sure where he came from, but then my attention had been all sucked up in Sully. It makes my skin feel like it's on fire the way he can do that to me, like he's a vacuum and I have no power against him.

"Here about the ranch hand job. Name's Porter Dixon."

I don't recognize his face and can't help wondering who all is still here from back in the day, if anyone.

He doesn't seem to recognize my name, but then why would he? We were just another poor family working for the Sullivans. There were rumors around Laurel Springs, of course, but I imagine they'd died down since the last three Dixons passed or left town, everyone forgetting us in a way they never would a Sullivan.

"I'll get the boss," the man says, rubbing a hand over his beard.

"I got it from here," Sully replies, and I don't turn to look at him, can't. Just feel my muscles clenching up, my jaw tightening just hearing his voice. He's the boss now? It's not his daddy who's gonna come over and offer me a pity job like he did my momma when I was young?

"Yessir." The man tips his hat at Sully and walks away. I still don't know why I call him that—I don't do it anywhere except in my head or when we're alone.

Sully waits until the hand is gone before he says, "Porter?" in this soft, questioning voice that sounds a little deeper than it had when we were eighteen. It's not as raspy as mine and not as bottled up, which sounds like a confusing way to put it, but it works in my head.

I still won't look at him, which doesn't make a lick of sense, considering I'm the one who came here searching for a job.

"Jesus, I can't believe you're here. You gonna stand there with your back to me all day or what?"

I turn because I know he'll just walk around to face me anyway. Sully isn't like me. He doesn't get angry and doesn't hold grudges. He's the perfect son and the perfect boss, and I'm sure he's the perfect husband for Aimee too. He's always gonna do the right thing, what's expected of him, which is likely part of why he married her. I've been doing the wrong damn thing all my life.

"It is you. I?—"

"I'm here about the job," I cut him off. "I've got lots of experience. It's all I've been doing since I left. I'm even better than I was when we were kids. I've never found a horse I couldn't break. Got real good at moving cattle too."

"I've heard."

I adjust my hat. Has he been checking up on me? "Then you probably know I don't stay anywhere long, and it'll be the same here, but if you're looking for someone who can outwork all the men here, I'm your guy."

He quirks a brow. "Still cocky, I see."

"Still got good reason to be."

I wait for him to smile, but he doesn't. The weight in my stomach gets heavier by the second. I have to shove my hands into my pockets, squeeze my thighs to keep from hightailing it out of here and never come back.

Sully looks around to make sure no one is close, then says, "You left."

My chest tightens. "I ain't here to talk about that."

I needed you, and you were with her, married her.

I should've known better than to think he would be there for me. No one ever had in my life, not outside my momma and dad, and I don't know why part of me had ever wished Sully would be different.

"You wouldn't talk to me. I sat outside your house all night."

But you were with her. You were courting her and fucking me.

It shouldn't've mattered. I'd told him it could never be more than the sex, but it still hurt all the same.

"This was a mistake." I turn on my heels and head back to my truck. I can't do this. What was I thinking?

"Porter, wait. Goddamn it. You're still a fucking hothead. Just settle down a minute."

"Fuck you. You're not my boss. You don't get to tell me what to do." But I damn well do what he says, stop moving, then turn to look at him.

"I only ever treated you like an employee when I had to. You know that wasn't…" He takes his hat off, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it on his head again. "You came here for a reason. Don't stalk off because you're angry."

"I wish I knew how to take it away," Sully says.

"Take what away?"

"All that hurt inside you."

I shake that memory away, not letting it take root. My insides are jittery, and I want to do nothing but evict it, to force myself not to feel because feeling hurts too damn much. "You don't know me." But he's right about me, and we both know it.

"You got the job, Porter."

"You don't want to see what I can do? I'm better than anyone on this ranch—even you. But you might wanna check references. I'm sure your daddy would expect that."

He gives me a small grin. "I don't need to see what you can do. You want the job or not?"

I want my momma and dad not to have worked themselves into an early grave. I want to get up with the sun and work land that's mine, but since that won't ever happen, I want to keep seeing where my boots take me because I don't have a home. I want not to wish I could bend over for Sully right now, or work my way inside him, but none of my wishing has ever come true. "Yeah, I want the job." It's a mistake, and outside of ranching, there's nothing I'm better at than making mistakes.

He smiles. "Come on, then. I'll show you where you'll stay."