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“When he admonishes me. Like, his voice gets all stern, which I find incredibly hot but don’t like at the same time.”
Saxton giggled. “You’re not supposed to like it when Daddy gets stern with you. That’s the whole point.”
Oh. Wait, what? “I thought that you loved what Gale does for you.”
“Of course I do, but that doesn’t mean I like it when he’s upset with me. I mean, I love that he cares enough to be irate, but I hate that I made him be stern with me or discipline me.”
Saxton had just perfectly described George’s complicated mess of emotions. “I thought my displeasure meant I maybe didn’t want to be a boy.”
“If you didn’t want a Daddy, you wouldn’t give two fucks about what Jack thinks,” Gale said. “Like you couldn’t care less about what others in general think of you. All through school, you had zero fucks to give about the opinion of others. The only ones that mattered were those of your friends. If you feel that way about Jack, then it’s safe to say there’s something going on there, something that has made you care…”
“But I only met him a few days ago. How could I care about him already?”
Gale rolled his eyes, then nudged his chin in Saxton’s direction. “I fell for him the moment I met him. It may not be standard, but it happens. Sometimes the connection is so strong that you just know. But is there a reason that you doubt your feelings? Are there areas where you think you’d be incompatible?”
“What does he do for a job?” Saxton asked.
“Don’t laugh, but he’s an actual lumberjack.”
“Oh my god…” Gale said, then burst out laughing. “That’s the best thing ever! You weren’t lying when you said your type was a lumberjack.”
George shrugged, grinning. “I know, right? He’s six foot four of furry perfection, built like a fucking wall with thighs the size of tree trunks and arms like thick branches. And let’s just say histoolfits the rest of him.”
“Sounds like you hit the jackpot,” Gale said, still laughing.
“He’s gone for six weeks, then back for two,” George said softly. “That’s why he’s never been a Daddy because he doesn’t know how that could ever work.”
Gale sobered. “I can see why that would make things complicated. Not impossible but hard for sure.”
George sighed. “I told him I had to think about everything. Things were going awfully fast, even for me, and I had to hit the brakes.”
“Nothing wrong with that. We both know you tend to rush into things, and this sounds like it could be too important for that.” Gale’s eyes were soft and understanding.
“I like him, Gale. I really, really like him. But what if I can’t be what and who he needs me to be?”
“It doesn’t work like that, honey. You can’t ever change who you are. And being in a relationship always comes with adjustments, but they should come from both parties. Compromise is king, my mom always says, but never at the cost of losing your own identity. If you’re not a boy, you can’t pretend you are. Just like if you are one, you should never try to be like Saxton. It’s not you. And if Jack likes you, then he won’t want you to. He’ll like you for who you are, just the way you are, not for who he wants you to be.”
11
Jack had loved every minute he’d spent with George, whether it was in bed, eating together, or going on outings. But he also wanted to show George a side of himself he hadn’t told him about yet, and so he’d taken him out to Rob’s farm.
“He’s an old Army friend of mine,” he told George as they were driving over. “We met in bootcamp, ended up in the same unit, and we stayed friends ever since. He runs a charity on his farm for old horses.”
“Old horses?”
Jack nodded. “He drives all over the country to pick up horses that are headed for the slaughterhouse because no one wants them anymore, and he brings them here to spend their last years in freedom.”
George’s eyes widened. “That’s so cool. How many horses does he have?”
“I honestly don’t know, since it fluctuates, but he’s had as many as fifty at one time. He inherited this farm from his grandfather, who bred horses, so it was ideally set up to do this. He already had the stalls and the fields.”
Jack turned into the long driveway to Rob’s farm, which was out in the boonies, far from the civilized world.
“It’s gorgeous out here,” George said, peering out the window. “You’d never know we’re so close to Albany.”
“One of the many things I love about this part of New York.”
Jack parked his truck right next to Rob’s impressive Ford F-450.
