9. Eli
Chapter 9
Eli
L ogan’s words echoed in the back of my mind all through dinner and into the night. I’d hardly spoken the entire time. And I couldn’t even look at Colt. I still couldn’t believe he was gay. How was that possible? Mr. Big Shot had been playing for my team all along and he never said anything? Then again, why would he? It wasn’t like we were actually friends. Hell, we could barely tolerate one another.
The more I thought about it, the more I guess I understood his secrecy. I had a feeling there were plenty of guys on the rodeo circuit who had at least experimented with other guys. But what happened behind closed doors was different than telling the public at large. This was Texas after all and the kind of people that paid good money to see rodeos… well, they weren’t always the accepting type to say the least.
When I came out at fourteen, it was in self-defense. One of the boys at school caught me with a stolen porno magazine. That wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I hadn’t colored out the woman in the pictures with a sharpie so I could focus on the guy. Needless to say, rumors were gonna start flying real quick, so I told people myself to maintain my power. My parents didn’t mind, which was a godsend, but everyone else… well, let’s just say I didn’t have many friends after that in school. Mostly just Colt.
And now, for the first time, I was starting to understand why he stuck by my side. It made me wonder what had really happened between him and his daddy that caused his entire life to implode.
“There’s a significant lack of sass over there,” Colt called, pulling me from my thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so quiet.”
I looked up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, still shirtless and looking as gorgeous as ever. I felt that stirring in my belly once more and tried to force it down. Just because I knew he was gay didn’t mean he wanted anything to do with me. Logan had to be wrong about the flirting thing. Colt was a downright asshole to me. That couldn’t be flirting, right?
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Did you need something, your highness?”
“I wouldn’t mind going for a walk.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s eleven o’clock at night. And you’re supposed to be?—”
“On bedrest, I know,” he finished. “But I’ve been sitting in this bed for two days now, my ass is sore, and my legs are cramping up. I need to stretch a bit.”
I hesitated, weighing the risks. On one hand, Colt did need his rest to recover. On the other, I could understand his restlessness. And a short walk couldn't hurt too much, right?
“Fine,” I relented with a sigh. “But just a quick one around the property. And you're putting a shirt on.”
Colt grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Aw, come on. Afraid you can't handle all this?” He gestured to his muscular torso, beaming with pride.
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “More like I don't want you catching a chill and getting even more laid up. Now come on, Cowboy. Let's go before I change my mind.”
Colt begrudgingly pulled on a hoodie and his cowboy hat. We slipped out of the house quietly, careful not to wake my parents.
The night air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the stuffy bedroom. Colt took a deep breath, tilting his head back to gaze at the stars scattered across the inky sky.
“Man, I missed this,” he said softly. “You don't get views like this in the city.”
I nodded, shoving my hands in my pockets as we began to walk. The silence between us felt charged, different than before. I couldn't help but sneak glances at Colt, seeing him in a new light. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, accentuating his strong jawline and the curve of his lips. Fucking hell he was beautiful.
“So,” Colt said after a while, “you gonna tell me what's on your mind? You've been acting weird all night.”
I swallowed hard, debating how to respond. “Just... thinking about some stuff Logan said,” I admitted finally, keeping my eyes fixed on the path ahead.
Colt tensed beside me. “Oh yeah? What kind of stuff?”
My heart raced. This was it - the moment of truth. I could brush it off, pretend it was nothing. Or I could confront him about what Logan had revealed.
“He, uh... he told me something I didn’t know. Something about… you.”
Colt stopped walking abruptly. When I turned to look at him, his face was unreadable in the dim moonlight.
“Shit,” he muttered, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. “I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch.”
“So, it's true then?” I pressed, pulse pounding in my ears.
“Don’t you go talkin’ to a damn person about this,” he growled, his eyes flashing with anger. “I mean it Eli. Not a fuckin’ word.”
“Why would I tell anyone?” I scoffed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We ain’t exactly friends, Eli.”
“We were all through high school and you didn’t say anything!”
“I was fuckin’ scared, alright?!” he yelled, his voice echoing across the farm. “Not all of us have perfect little homes and families like you do, Eli!”
I flinched at Colt's outburst, taken aback by the raw emotion in his voice. For a moment, we just stood there in tense silence, the weight of his words hanging heavy between us.
“I'm sorry,” I said softly, my anger dissipating. “I didn't mean to... I just?—”
But whatever I was about to say was cut off as I heard a strangled scream from inside the house. My eyes went wide as I stared at Colt. Without a word, I took off running as fast as I could, gravel and dust flying up behind me. I knew what that sound meant, what it could mean if I didn’t get there fast enough.
Dad was having one of his night terrors from the war. If someone didn’t get a hold of him, he might hurt mom or himself.
I burst through the front door, heart pounding in my chest. The screams were coming from upstairs. I took the steps two at a time, Colt hot on my heels despite his broken ribs.
“Dad!” I shouted, racing down the hallway. “Dad, it's okay!”
I flung open my parents' bedroom door to find chaos. My father was thrashing wildly in bed, eyes wide but unseeing. Mom was backed into a corner, her face pale with fear.
“Eli, be careful!” she warned as I approached the bed.
I knew better than to touch him when he was like this. Instead, I spoke in a calm, firm voice. “Dad, you're safe. You're home. It's Eli.”
But he was too far gone, lost in whatever hellish memory had gripped him. His fist lashed out, nearly catching me in the jaw. I stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding my father's swing. My heart raced as I tried to think of what to do next. We'd been through this before, but it was rare that it would get this bad.
“Don’t let them through!” my father yelled at nothing. “We have to keep pushing through!”
“Dad!” I called, trying to get his attention. “Dad please!”
Suddenly, Colt was beside me. “Mr. Daniels,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Sir, you're in Texas. You're home.”
To my surprise, my father's thrashing slowed slightly at the sound of Colt's voice. Colt continued speaking, his tone calm and authoritative. He reached out, putting a gentle hand on my father’s forehead.
“That's right, sir. You're safe now. The war's over. You're back on your farm in Sagebrush.” He dropped his hand to my father’s chest. “Can you take a deep breath for me? Nice and slow.”
Gradually, my father's eyes began to focus. His breathing slowed as he looked around the room, confusion evident on his face.
“Eli?” he croaked, his voice hoarse from screaming.
“Yeah, Dad. I'm here,” I said softly, stepping closer to the bed. “You're okay. You're home.”
My father's eyes darted around the room, finally landing on my mother huddled in the corner. “Oh God, Margie,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Did I... did I hurt you?”
Mom shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, honey. I'm fine. You didn't touch me.”
Relief washed over my father's face, quickly followed by shame. He buried his face in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking with silent sobs. My heart ached at the sight. No matter how many times this happened, it never got easier to watch.
I felt a gentle squeeze on my shoulder and turned to see Colt giving me a reassuring nod. “I'll go make some coffee,” he said quietly before slipping out of the room. I nodded gratefully, then turned back to my parents.
“It's okay, Dad,” I said softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “We're all okay.”
“I… I thought the medication was working,” he sobbed, hands still covering his face. “Why does this keep happening to me?”
Mom came over and wrapped her arms around Dad, murmuring soothing words. I sat with them for a while, just being present as Dad's breathing slowly returned to normal. The tension in the room gradually eased, replaced by a heavy, exhausted silence. However, the sadness and frustration in my father did not lessen. He’d been struggling with his condition for nearly my entire life. Every time he made progress, there was always a step backward, and I hated to see how much it angered him. He just wanted to be free of those memories and unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help him.
After what felt like hours but was probably only about twenty minutes, Dad finally looked up at me. His eyes were red-rimmed and haunted. “I'm sorry, son,” he said hoarsely. “You shouldn't have to deal with this.”
I shook my head. “Don't apologize. We're family. This is what we do.”
Dad gave me a weak smile, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “You're a good boy, Eli. I don't know what I'd do without you and your mother.”
I returned the smile, trying to hide the worry in my eyes. This particular episode wasn’t the worst he’d ever had, but it still worried me. I made a mental note to call Dad's doctor in the morning to see about adjusting his dosage.
“Why don't you try to get some rest?” I suggested gently. “I'll stay here for a while if you want.”
Dad shook his head. “No, son. You go on. I'll be alright now.” He looked at Mom apologetically. “I'm sorry, Margie. I didn't mean to scare you.”
Mom leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Hush now. Let's just try to get some sleep.”
I stood up, but before I could go, dad reached out and grabbed my hand. “Tell Colt thank you for me.”
I nodded. “I’ll do that.”
I slipped out of my parents' room, quietly closing the door behind me. My heart was still racing from the adrenaline, but relief washed over me knowing that Dad was okay for now. As I made my way downstairs, the rich aroma of coffee filled the air, bringing me back to my senses.
I found Colt in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with two steaming mugs in front of him. He looked up as I entered, his green eyes filled with concern.
“How is he?” Colt asked softly.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Better now. Thanks for... whatever you did up there. I've never seen him calm down that quickly before.”
Colt shrugged, pushing one of the mugs towards me. “My grandpa used to get night terrors sometimes from World War II. Learned a few tricks over the years.”
I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, grateful for something to focus on. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving me feeling drained and shaky. I took a sip of the coffee, letting the warmth spread through me.
“I'm sorry you had to see that,” I said quietly, not meeting Colt's eyes. “It's not usually that bad.”
Colt shook his head. “Don't apologize. It's not your fault, or your dad's.” He paused, taking a sip of his own coffee. “How long has he been dealing with this?”
I sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Since I was barely a toddler. Mom said he was a pretty vibrant man before he got shipped off to Kuwait, but he came back broken. Some nights are better than others, but...” I trailed off, not sure how to explain the constant undercurrent of worry that came with never knowing when the next episode might hit. Instead, I decided to change the subject. “I’m sorry, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For finding out about you from Logan. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I just… I was surprised.”
Colt's expression softened slightly. He set down his mug and crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “It's alright. I guess I should've known Logan would pick up on it eventually. Maybe Caroline said something by accident that tipped him off.”
“He read Caroline’s diary in high school.”
“Of course.” He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Eli... it's not that I didn't trust you back then. I just... I wasn't ready for anyone to know. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”
I nodded, understanding all too well the fear and uncertainty that came with coming out. “I get it. Really, I do. And I won't tell anyone, I swear.”
“I appreciate that,” Colt said quietly. He was silent for a moment, staring into his coffee mug. When he looked up again, there was a vulnerability in his eyes I'd never seen before. “You asked earlier why I didn't tell you in high school,” Colt said, his voice low. “Truth is, I was scared. Not just of what other people would think, but... of what you'd think.”
I furrowed my brow, confused. “What do you mean? You knew I was gay.”
Colt let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, and that was part of the problem. I was... I don't know, intimidated by you, I guess. You were so sure of yourself, so open about who you were. And there I was, this closeted mess, trying to prove myself to everyone. I might’ve beaten you at everything out on the field, but you were always more confident and loved that I’ll ever be. I… I was a bit jealous.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. All those years, I'd thought Colt was just another jock who tolerated me because we'd known each other forever. I never imagined he might have been struggling with his own identity.
I stared at Colt, stunned by his confession. All this time, I'd thought he was just another arrogant jock who barely tolerated me. To hear that he'd actually been jealous of my confidence... it was almost too much to process.
“Colt, I...” I trailed off, not sure what to say. “I had no idea.”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, that was kinda the point. Couldn't let anyone know the great Colt Dawson was anything less than perfect, right?”
There was a bitterness in his voice that made my heart ache. I wanted to reach out, to comfort him somehow, but I wasn't sure how he'd react. Instead, I took another sip of coffee, trying to gather my thoughts.
“For what it's worth,” I said finally, “I never thought you were perfect. I always figured you were just as messed up as the rest of us, deep down.”
Colt let out a surprised laugh. “Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it,” I insisted. “All that bravado, the showing off... I knew it had to be covering up something. I just never imagined it was this.”
Colt's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “Yeah, well... turns out even rodeo stars have their demons.”
We fell into silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. I couldn't help but marvel at how much had changed in just a few short days. The Colt standing before me now was so different from the cocky, untouchable man I thought I knew. I found myself sitting down my cup of coffee and stepping toward him. Reaching out a shy hand, I placed it gently on his shoulder.
“Thanks for everything tonight,” I said, holding those beautiful green eyes of his with mine.
“It was nothin’,” he replied softly, his face turning bright red to match his beard.
For some reason I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “It was a lot more than nothing.”
However, when I went to pull away, I felt his hand land on my waist, holding me in place.
“What are you?—”
I never got to finish my sentence as he pulled me down, his lips pressing against mine.
For a moment, I was too shocked to react. Colt's lips were warm and soft against mine, his beard tickling my skin. My heart raced as I realized this was really happening - I was kissing Colt Dawson, the man I'd secretly wanted for years.
Instinctively, I melted into the kiss, my hand sliding from his shoulder to the nape of his neck. Colt made a soft sound in the back of his throat, pulling me closer. His tongue teased at the seam of my lips, and I opened for him eagerly.
The kiss deepened, becoming hungry and desperate. Years of pent-up tension and hidden desires poured out as we clung to each other. Colt's hands roamed my back, leaving trails of heat in their wake. I tangled my fingers in his ginger hair, relishing the soft strands between my fingers.
Then, all of a sudden, he broke away. He pulled out of my grasp and headed for the stairs, not a word spoken as he rushed out of the room. I was left standing there with my jaw hanging open and the taste of him still on my lips.
What the hell had just happened?