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He nodded. This he completely understood. And one day he’d tell Ambrose about it. Right now wasn’t his time, though. Ambrose needed help and Barrett was going to be there, no matter what it took. “What does that mean to you?”
Ambrose’s laugh was dry, humorless. “It used to mean getting fucked six ways from Sunday so I didn’t have to think for a while.”
As appealing as that sounded to Barrett, he also knew it would be a mistake. He was pretty sure Ambrose knew it too. His face bore no sign of hope or expectation, just raw honesty. “Anything else help you get out of your head for a bit? Music, a book? We can cook or take Dandi on a walk.”
Ambrose contemplated that for a long moment, and then he moved toward his back door. “Can we head up into the hills with Dandi? A little more physical space from the letter couldn’t hurt.”
“Of course. What if I showed you my first ranger trail?”
Ambrose was already shrugging into his fleece jacket. “I’d love to see it.”
Barrett led Ambrose up into the western hills. The spring sun was warm and they were soon shedding their jackets to better soak it in. Dandi ran ahead of them only to come back minutes later with a massive stick, the ends of it covered in mud and leaves. “Good thing there’s a river up ahead,” Barrett said as they both laughed. “Gods, she’s filthy.”
“Did you hear him, Dandi? He said you’re filthy.” Ambrose didn’t mind scratching the dog’s dirt-streaked ears. Dandi dropped the stick and spun circles in front of Ambrose, whacking him on the thigh with her tail. “How many rivers are there around here?”
“Depends on your definition of river.” Barrett pointed further west, where the land sloped up gently. “There’s a little valley below that hill with a stream. In the drier summers, it gets down to nothing but a trickle. It’s mostly fed from runoff. But since we don’t classify that as a river, then…” He paused, gaze going skyward. “Officially there are four. A couple of the streams have widened over the years due to erosion and all the rain, so I’d say it’s actually six.”
Ambrose followed Barrett through a set of budding oaks as Dandi darted ahead once more, her massive paws sending leaves flying. “And this river was part of your first ranger trail?”
“Yeah.” Barrett drew out his phone and pulled up an app. Soon a topographical map of the area in which they stood appeared on the screen. “So from that road we cut up, then west, down into the valley and across the river.” He traced the path on the screen with his finger, lighting up the area in green. “Then over, looping back east. My old stomping grounds as a baby ranger.”
Ambrose smiled. He could almost see Barrett then, a decade and a half younger but maybe with the same beard and hair. Fewer lines around his eyes and a tendency to smile more. It wasn’t that Barrett didn’t smile now, but there were layers to most of them. A fond one for his neighbors, a big open one for his sister and nephew. The one he used when talking about his job, as if his smile could express the volumes of enjoyment and exasperation he faced on a daily basis.
And then there was the one he was giving Ambrose now. “What’s that look for?”
Ambrose tipped his head up and slowly reached out to touch Barrett’s beard. A silent request for permission, one that was granted as Barrett angled his chin down. The smile didn’t waver, but its edges grew curious. “You’re a man of many emotions and expressions. I like pondering them. I don’t want to ascribe meaning to them that doesn’t exist and yet here I am, wondering if the smile you’re giving me now has any specific meaning.”
That seemed to bring Barrett up short, something Ambrose had never seen before. “Guess I don’t think about it in those terms,” he said slowly, still leaning into Ambrose’s touch. His beard was wiry and Ambrose wanted to coat it in balms and lotions after giving it better shape. Or maybe Barrett would let him shave it off completely. “But I think this one is just happiness. The kind that I only get around you.”
“Oh.” The air left his lungs in a gust. “Is that a confession?”
“Confession implies it’s something I’m ashamed of.”
With a wink, Barrett pulled away and Ambrose almost dragged him back. But they trekked on, following in Dandi’s scattershot path as she chased after chipmunks and squirrels. “She won’t actually catch anything, will she?” Ambrose asked, suddenly very concerned that the dog would bring them a tiny, mangled body.
“Nah. She’s never shown any inclination to actually hunt. I think it’s more the noise she likes than anything.” Barrett whistled and immediately Dandi was romping back through the forest toward them. But now her feet were wet. “Looks like she found the river. Come on, girl!”
Ambrose found himself tugged along in Barrett’s wake, the forest spinning by as they ran toward the sound of rushing water. Barrett’s grip was firm and sure and they slipped between trees with the confidence of a man who knew the land and trusted in his footing. Confidence was always attractive, but Barrett’s was the kind that came naturally. As if he and the forest shared a private, protective bond. If he took good care of it, it would pay that kindness back.
Ambrose breathed in the scent of fresh dirt and river water and the bright promise of spring and let Barrett steer them downhill. His steps quickened, the sole of one boot slid, and he was crashing into Barrett’s back with all the gracefulness of a drunken horse.
“Whoa, steady!” Those warm hands he’d come to love were now on him, stilling his forward momentum. “I got you.”
They paused, face to face and breathing hard. Barrett’s cheeks were rosy, his smile wide and open, and the grip he had on Ambrose’s arms helped make the world stop spinning. “Thanks.”
A splash behind them drew their attention to where Dandi was prancing in the shallow water at the river’s edge. The landscape still bore the marks of winter, the ground too muddy for greenery to poke through, but beyond the river there were bits of yellow and green sprouting across the ground. Even the air was losing its bite. “Hell of a winter,” Barrett said. “And yet still one of the best in a long time.”
Something giddy rose in Ambrose’s chest. He leaned into Barrett’s touch, hoping the other man would read his silent signal. A request, and a token of permission.
Lean in and kiss me.
“You’re making it harder and harder for me, you know.”
Ambrose raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Harder for…?”
Barrett snorted. “Everything. Learning to take my time. Learning what you need. I want all of that. Old habits die hard, though.” He smoothed his palms over Ambrose’s sides, following the seams of his sweater until he could rest his hands on slim hips. “Guess that’s part of my smile. What you were asking earlier.”
Ambrose leaned in more. Aching. The sweetness, the desire, the yearning were getting all tangled up in one big ball that he didn’t want to undo. This was like nothing he’d ever, ever experienced and it made everything in him light up under Barrett’s attentions. “I don’t understand.”
