Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Dillon wiped his hands on his jeans, afraid to look at the inside of the mailbox.
Adam Taggart had told him the key would be there, taped to the roof of the big metal can, but he was terrified it wouldn’t be.
Oh, he could hop the fence, leave his rental right there by the road, but that was stupid, even in central Texas.
It would be so much better if he could just…see. “Look, stupid,” he said out loud, startling himself a little.
Sheepish, Dillon finally opened the box, got Coke’s mail and the key, just like Adam had said.
Adam had also screamed at him, saying, “I know it’s a stupid mistake, honey. Get your ass down there and sort it out with him. He needs you.”
Thank God for Adam.
He closed the gate behind him and hopped into the little Subaru, driving down to park beside the house, beside Coke’s big diesel.
Gripping the steering wheel, he sat there for a long moment, breathing through his nose. At least his shoulder had stopped throbbing every time he moved. That would help when he had to hold Coke down and make him listen.
When he finally did get out of the car, his knees shook. This was the most important thing he’d ever had to do. So he’d better make it good. Dillon went around to the back of the house, through the barbecue patio, past the pool. Fuck, he loved that pool.
He was pretty glad Coke didn’t have dogs. Yet. Coke needed hounds. Maybe wee ones, like bassets or beagles…
He let himself in the sliding glass door, his boots hitting the tile floor with little thuds.
“Coke?”
He heard a thud, a crash. “I… Somebody there?”
“Coke!” Dillon careened through the house, heading for the bedroom, trying hard not to panic. If Coke fell…
Coke was in the hallway, a glass broken at his feet. Oh, Jesus. Dillon stopped, stared a second. Coke was in a neck brace, eyes both black, left hand all wrapped up in bandages.
Coke’s mouth opened and closed and opened again. “Dillon? Hey, ho—son. How’s that shoulder doing?”
“I. Oh, Christ, Coke. You need to sit down. Come on, babe. The front room or the bedroom?” Coke called the living room the front room—that always made him smile, but right now it wasn’t helping.
“Front room, I guess. You go on. I gotta get the broom. You want a beer?”
“No. You sit. I’ll get the broom. I know,” he said, holding up a hand. “You’re not helpless. I’m just less hurt than you.”
“Why’d you come, Dillon? Did… Did things not work out for you with… I mean, I didn’t know, son. You coulda told me. I know what it’s like. I’d’ve had your back.”
“Could have told you what?” That broken glass was going to slice something off, and neither of them could afford to lose a foot.
Dillon needed his for stomping Coke’s, just for the hell of it.
“There was nothing to tell. David and I were over when he got married, and I may be a clown, but I’m not stupid enough to think there was anything real there for him. ”
Coke looked at him, blinked. “Whut?”
“He never loved me, Coke. Not like you do. What kind of fool would give you up for that?” His hands were clenching and unclenching, his shoulder screaming with the tension. “I’ve never thrown myself in front of a two-thousand-pound bull for David.”
“You ever throw yourself in front of another one and I will blister your ass.”
“I think the urge has passed. From now on, I’ll throw my clothes at them. Or my barrel. Maybe Nate. He deserves it.” He was still a little mad at Nate.
“I… Lord.” Coke seemed flummoxed. “You want that beer?”
“I do. Come and sit, and I’ll get the broom, okay?” They had to sit, talk like rational people. Hell, if Coke was on the same kind of drugs he’d been on, the man would be really confused, and this could all be cleared up now they were allowed to be together again.
“Okay.” Coke shuffled forward, staring at him a little. “I was worried about you, your shoulder. I came to the hotel to tell you I was sorry.”
“When, Coke? Nate said you heard me and David, but I was just trying to get clean. That’s all.” He didn’t know if he should touch, if he could. Coke was so damned pale.
“Y’all were in the shower. I just…I didn’t know what to think and then I thought I’d better go and then…” Coke led him into the front room, right hand on his elbow, solid and sure. “Then Nate told me, and I… Well, I know what it’s like to love somebody you cain’t have…”
“I was drugged out of my gourd, babe. Jonesy gave me a shot. All I could do was flop around like a dying fish.” They got settled on one of Coke’s big, soft couches, and Dillon forgot the beer in favor of grabbing Coke’s good hand.
“It don’t matter. I ain’t accusing you of nothing. I just…” Coke sighed, legs moving idly, like the man didn’t know they were moving.
Maybe he didn’t. Back injuries were odd. “Coke. Look at me, okay? I’m going to repeat this a lot over the next few days, because I think you’re loopy with meds. I love you, okay? You. Even if you’re still pining for some lost love you never had.”
“Pining?” Coke chuckled, then those chuckles turned to harsh, hysterical laughter. “Oh, shit. I swear to you, if Daniel Scott had ever thought my ass was pining, he’d’ve beaten me. I thought I loved his skinny ass, then I got old and learned better.”
“Daniel. Jason’s dad?” Dude. That was. Wow. “Well, then, we’ve both gotten smarter.”
“Uh-huh. Either that or my old pale ass fell in love with this cowboy clown from the Great White North for real. Pick one.”
“I’ll go with that.” The smile bloomed on his mouth, all but splitting his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. At the hospital. I tried.”
“I left as soon as they took the catheter out. If Doc or Jonesy or Ace calls, don’t answer. I’m still ’sposed to be in.”
“I know. Ace knows. He’s the one who threatened to fire me if I didn’t take time to recover before I went to see you.”
Coke squeezed his fingers. “Now, cowboy, you know I ain’t worth losing all them pennies over.”
Dillon sniffed. “I’m not going to get fired, Coke. I did, however, tell Ace to stuff it up his ass.” Man, that had been fun.
“And I missed it? Tell me that Mitch was there with the camera.” Coke chuckled a little, then tugged his hand. “Do me a favor?”
“What, babe?” Anything. He’d do anything for this man.
“C’mere so I can see you? I cain’t turn my head. They fused two of my neck bones.”
“Oh.” Scooting over, he got where Coke didn’t have to turn to see him, holding on to that good hand so tight that he worried it might break, too.
“There you are.” His bullfighter stared at him. His. “Your shoulder. It’s better?”
“Mostly, yeah. It’s just sore now.” If he didn’t get to kiss Coke soon, he would explode.
“Good. I shoulda listened to you better. They had to fix my hand.” Coke kept staring at him, like he was the most amazing thing the man had ever seen.
“Well, it was all black.” Dillon couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned up and gently pressed his mouth to Coke’s, trying not to move that poor neck.
“Cowboy.” Coke moaned for him, soft and low. “I missed you so.”
“I missed you, too. Scared me, Coke. Please don’t do that to me again.” Not that he hadn’t been on the scare and guilt thing, too.
“Okay.” He got a smile, then a long, heavy-lidded look. “I don’t suppose you want a nap?”
“I could so go for a nap.” He was exhausted, and relief made him a little giddy. “You got a set up for your back in the bedroom?”
Coke tried to nod, stopped. “Adam got me a whole pully deal set up to help me.”
“Oh, wow.” Adam was a great guy. Mr. Rebound. Always there when some lovelorn fool needed him. Lord. “Come on. I’ll get that glass when we get up.”
“‘kay.” Coke scooted forward, ass sliding a little so he could lever himself up.
Dillon got them down the hall, sans glass, and got Coke settled before stripping off. “It’s hot here.”
“It’s July.” The ceiling fan was whirring, the little set of ropes and pulleys a little fascinating.
“Yeah, but I needed to bring more shorts.” He watched Coke maneuver into bed, waiting to crawl in, worried he’d hurt something. He didn’t want to hurt Coke anymore.
“We’ll get you more. C’mere.” That poor hurt hand was stretched out, arm offered to him.
Dillon slid into bed next to Coke, letting the cool sheets and the warm skin of Coke’s arm soothe him. He just needed to rest his bruises. So did Coke.
“Rest, now, huh? I’ve got you. Oh, and Coke?”
“What, honey?” Coke’s eyes were already closed, brace cradling the man’s head.
“Promise me you’ll never call me son again.”