“I need you in my bed, my home, my life. I need you so fucking much.” John continued, both men's tears turning into joy. “I think I might even beat my parents' record…” He drew back, capturing Wyatt’s hand and tracing his ring finger. Wyatt’s heart stopped and his breath sped up. “'Cause I don’t think I can wait a year to make you mine forever.”
Oh God.
Wyatt roughly grabbed him, pushing him against Charity’s stall. John let out a whoosh of breath from the impact as Wyatt devoured him, heart dancing in his chest.
“My answer is yes,” he whispered against John’s wet lips.
John let out a sigh, and more tears filled his eyes. Wyatt was obsessed with his vulnerability, his sensitivity—knowing he felt everything so deeply, so passionately—and that heart belonged to him now.
“But first, we’ll live together,” Wyatt said, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face and knowing he probably looked like a fool in love, but it didn’t matter because John was looking back at him the same way. “Make sure it works.”
“It will,” John replied firmly, kissing him.
“It will.”
He thought briefly of seducing John in the barn, of feeling their love in the most sensual way possible, with the smell of leather, hay, and animals filtering through his bloodstream, becoming a bit animalistic himself. Because he could do that here. This barn was the only place growing up where he felt truly free. He had lost his virginity to Mateo here on a stormy, hot night, caught up in the turbulence of the storm and each other. Working with the horses here also made it the first place he had understood the value of giving without wanting anything in return. He had found himself here, became the person he is today because of this scared place.
And damn, did he want to drop to his knees right now and give in to the temptation.
But he had unfinished business with his father. Until things felt settled and he could breathe easier here again, all those deliciously naughty things he wanted to do to John would have to wait.
“I know you’ve got complicated feelings about being back here,” John began slowly, fingers reaching for the collar on Wyatt’s shirt and stroking the stubble beneath his jaw. “And I certainly don’t want to add to it, but…” He glanced over his shoulder at Charity, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile before sliding back to Wyatt and holding it. “I think I would love to see your home through your eyes someday. Me being the student, you being the teacher. Teaching me how toride a horse, do the whole cowboy thing. I am positive I would love every second of it.”
“Even cleaning out a stall?” Wyatt asked, throat clenching.
John scrubbed the back of his neck, bashful and so heart-stoppingly cute. “Yeah. Sign me up, John Wayne.”
Emotion welled up inside him and he nodded. “I would love that.”
John's smile reflected his love and excitement, and Wyatt couldn’t hold back any longer, giving him another thorough, ravishing kiss. John swayed and melded into him. Their embrace wasn’t sexual, it was love. Their vulnerability, it was just them. Without barriers, expectations, or shame.
“And just so we’re clear,” Wyatt rasped between kisses. “This placewasmy home. It’s not anymore, John. You are.”
He mentally attempted to ingrain the image of John, just like this, in his mind to hold forever. His reaction, his happiness, his glow.
“I want everything from you,” Wyatt whispered, dropping his temple to his.
“And I’ll always give it,” John murmured, trembling against him.
But Wyatt wasn’t done. He wanted to rip all the armor off of John and never be pushed away again.
“I want you to give me what you can’t—what you won’t—because that’s what I need,” Wyatt framed his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. “I need all of it, because all of it isyou, and I love you.”
“Yeah, ok,” he breathed as tears, fat and heavy, slid down his handsome face. “Fuck, I love you so much. You see me, you see all of me, and that’s a gift. You’re a gift. You’re a good man—a good fuckin’ soul. How’d I get so lucky?”
He slowly kissed his tears away, holding him. “That’s my line.”
They kissed one last time, and then Wyatt showed him how to bridle a horse, and together they led Charity out of the barn. Her pretty mahogany-gray hair shone under the sunlight as she moved with muscular grace across the trail back to the house.
He tethered her to the horse post outside by the porch, and together they helped his father out of bed and into the wheelchair. John carefully maneuvered the oxygen tank as he guided him out onto the porch.
His father didn’t say anything, but he sighed when he was settled outside, seeing Charity and the sprawling ranch. Everything his father had built and loved so dearly. Wyatt knew his father’s love was reflected not in his words, but in his labor and time. He swallowed his grief and proceeded to brush Charity, teaching John how to do it and how to talk to her. John was an attentive, easy student, taking his instruction effortlessly.
The Arizona sun was glowing in an orange haze, illuminating his father’s pale skin as he leaned back, taking it in.
They spent a long time out there.
Carol brought out a bottle of wine and Nancy made a simple pasta dish that they enjoyed for dinner on the porch. Wyatt’s father didn’t say much as he watched the sunset and the horse. He didn’t eat, didn’t drink. Wyatt had glanced at the oxygen monitor, knowing his father’s heart rate was steadily declining throughout the day. Nancy had called the hospice nurse, and she was on her way to be with the family.
