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“I always hoped he’d grow to think of this ranch as his home.”
“Why would he, after what happened between our families?”
She frowns. “I thought maybe the rift was healing with having them both on the ranch. It’s such a shame what happened to Mrs. Dixon. And Porter’s daddy too, for that matter.”
I sigh. “Yeah, it is.”
She gives me a sidelong glance. “It’s enough to make a young adult mad at the whole world.”
My chuckle is humorless. “Truer words might’ve never been spoken.”
I often wondered if this entire time Porter was taking out his heartache on me because he needed a target, someone to help carry his grief. And I would’ve, had he let me in. Fuck, what a mess.
Mom turns suddenly as if armed with a new outlook. “Maybe you can rekindle your friendship. Be there for him. He could probably use it.”
“Might be easier to tame a wild horse,” I retort.
She laughs and kisses my head, then heads off to one chore or another.
Chapter 4
Porter
Wade introduces me to Big Jimmy, Otis, Jeb, and a guy they call Bulldog—the hands and grooms who live in the bunkhouse. The others come in the mornings and leave at the end of the day. As soon as we’re done, my skin starts feeling a little itchy, like the walls are going to close in on me, so I say, “I’m gonna get some fresh air.”
“Mind if I join you?” Wade asks, and I give him a quick nod.
I can’t quite explain what it’s like being back here, thinking about my dad and how much he loved cowboy life and how his only dream was for us to have a spread of our own.
I remember after he died, the first time my momma brought me here to work with her and how it felt like it was bigger than the whole damn world. Sullivan Ranch was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and now, as I look out over the land that goes as far as the eye can see, I realize it still is.
Part of me hates Sully for loving this place too, though it doesn’t make a lick of sense.
It’s just a reminder of how big of a mistake it was to come here, but deep down, it feels good too. It’s also nice to see Wade again. He was always nice to me when I was a kid, never made me feel like I didn’t belong. He’d done some odd jobs with my dad in the past, so seeing this man my dad had liked, had maybe called a friend, weighs on my mind too.
“How’d you hear about me?” I ask as we head toward a large tree with big, weeping branches like a canopy. I remember it from when I was young. One time I got so pissed at the world, I kicked the damn thing and broke my toe. Sully gave me endless shit about it, but when we met up at night, he’d forced me to let him hold ice to it.
“You know I keep my ear to the ground. Been around a long time and talk to people from all over the country. I always make sure to ask about you, just to see if you’re okay.”
I shake off his concern. “I’m always okay.” I make sure of it. It isn’t like anyone else cares enough to. I’ve been taking care of myself a long time and will until the day I die. “So, what’d ya hear?”
“That you’ve been sticking your dick where it don’t belong.” He smirks. Wade doesn’t have a wife, never has that I heard of, but as far as I know, he isn’t queer either. It’s not something I’ve ever talked to him about. I didn’t share my sexuality with anyone except Bishop until I left.
“If he was willing, then there’s no reason my dick didn’t belong in him, and if I’m with them, they’re always willing.” I don’t bother to ask him if he has a problem with it because it won’t change who I am. I’m gay whether someone is homophobic or not, and their bigotry isn’t my problem. I’ll always defend myself any way I have to. Plus, I’d think if he did, he wouldn’t be talking to me the way he is.
“It’s good to have you back, Porter.”
In some ways it’s nice to be back, but in others it’s not at all, so I just say, “It ain’t for good.”
“So? It can still be good for now, and it is.”
I nod, the itchy feeling returning, this time not because the walls are closing in, but because someone is trying to get too close. Letting people in or close isn’t something I’m good at and never will be.
I pace in front of the tree, trying to calm down the rapid beat of my heart.
It takes everything in me not to ask him about Bishop, not to wonder if he’s got kids running around and if he and Aimee built a bigger house on the property to live in. Instead, I ask, “The guys good?”
“They’re all right. Otis works mostly with the horses. None of them are as good as I’ve heard you are.”
