Chapter Twenty-One
Rick
“You won, didn’t you win?”
It was Monday afternoon, and Rick looked up as Toby bounced into the shed where he was tightening up a few more bolts on that tractor that seemed to be a never-ending repair job.
“Are you talking about Saturday?” Toby nodded. “Yep, I did, thank you for asking. Aren’t you home early?” He glanced out the door Toby had left open. “I’m sure it’s not the end of the day already.”
“There was something I had to do in town today, and then I texted my sweet boo, and he came and picked me up earlier than expected,” Toby said with a grin.
“I thought that you would be inside celebrating with Ian and Ernest after having such an epic Saturday. A win was what you were after, right? Over this rival.”
“I don’t know that there’s a lot to celebrate.” Rick gathered up his tools and started wiping them off, carefully putting them back in the toolbox. He wasn’t usually that careful, but it gave him something to do with his hands.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Toby came around his side, peering up at him in a way that Rick already knew he couldn’t ignore. “You should be happy. You set out to win, beat that guy, and you even turned up for work on Monday, so you couldn’t have gotten injured too badly.”
“Yeah, nah, I broke an ankle on my last ride, but it’s all good. I got the points I needed. That was all that counted. It was a decent winning purse, so that’s always good to have, too.”
“Then why are you looking like someone strangled your dog?”
Rick glanced at Toby. “I don’t have a dog.” Is there something wrong with him?
“No, you know what I mean,” Toby flapped a hand. “I thought you’d be really happy, and instead you’re just looking like winning was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“I don’t think Ian’s forgiven me,” Rick admitted. “As I said, I had an accident on my last ride and broke my ankle, and even though he was standing right there because I was leaning on him, as it was difficult for me to stand…”
“You walked on a broken ankle?” Toby’s eyes were wide.
“It’s what you do, but anyway, I needed Ian to lean on after the ride, and he could’ve heard me clearly saying when I told Charlie I wouldn’t ride again.
I said it as clearly as anything. Like I’m talking to you.
I had set out to achieve what I wanted, and that was it.
But I don’t know. Ian was still super mad, and it was like… ” Rick shrugged.
He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Ian getting mad at him.
On the one hand, he could totally accept it.
Ian was entitled to his feelings. Bull riding wasn’t for everybody, and some people did see it as really dangerous.
But how Ian could say in one breath that he’d been supportive, and then in the next, complain because apparently Rick’s riding a bull had shortened his lifespan… It was a freaking accident.
They had made love—Rick made sure Ian felt good after that, but while they’d planned to spend a quiet day together on Sunday, apparently Ian’s mom had a charity emergency and needed Ian to run errands for her.
Rick stayed home and spent the afternoon preparing a lovely meal for Ian when he got home, but apparently that wasn’t enough either.
Rick still felt as though there was some barrier between them—as if he’d let Ian down in some way for doing something that was actually not a whim but used to be a huge part of his life.
“I just don’t like Ian being unhappy with me, and I don’t know what else I can do to make it right,” he added rather lamely when he realized Toby was still looking at him.
“I’m not saying that Ian’s doing the right thing, or you either,” Toby said thoughtfully. “If Ernest said he was going to suddenly take up bull riding, then I might have a few questions, like would he enjoy it if I did it too?”
“The difference is that you and Ernest don’t know how to ride a bull.
That is dangerous.” Rick glanced at Toby.
There really wasn’t a lot of him, and while size wasn’t an indicator of a good bull rider, it took a lot of power and strength to stay on a big animal.
“Maybe start with something like barrel racing? That could be fun.”
“No, no, no, no, you’re missing the point,” Toby said, rolling his eyes. “The thing is, is how would you feel if Ian said he was going to do the same thing? If he’d entered the same event?”
“I’d be totally supportive if Ian had twenty years’ experience already bull riding, or doing something stupid as he calls it.
If he already knew he could do it, was aware of the dangers, and accepted accidents happened sometimes.
But then, that applies to anything in life—accidents I mean.
I could just as easily get hit by a car crossing the road to go to your cute bakery. ”
“That’s true.” Toby was nodding. “And most of us don’t sit around and worry about getting hit by a car crossing the street—we are just focused on the lure of baked goods.
The smell alone can drive a person nuts, in a good way of course.
But that’s day-to-day life. Bull riding isn’t something you do every day. ”
“I used to,” Rick said. “What I don’t understand, is that when I told Charlie that I wouldn’t ride again, this was while my ankle was still broken, while I was leaning on Ian for support, because I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by falling flat on my face.
Ian was there, he had to have heard it, yet he still tore strips off me, both in his animal form and in his human form.
“He made me feel as though I was being selfish, and I was being uncaring of him. It kind of takes any shine off that celebration. I’m just saying.”
“Have you talked to him about that?” Toby said.
“Not a lot of point.” Rick sighed and shut the toolbox.
“I get the impression that in our house at the moment, even mentioning a rodeo is the wrong idea. I’m not sure—it’s difficult to tell through our bond—but it’s as if Ian thinks, if I try to explain, or talk about my previous life, then he’ll think I’m just trying to justify wanting to go back out there and do it again. ” He sighed inwardly.
“What would you do?” he asked Toby suddenly. “What would you do if you thought Ernest didn’t trust you?”
“I’d be gutted.” Toby’s face fell so fast that Rick regretted the question, although the young man bounced back quickly.
“I do trust Ernest, and Ernest trusts me. So I don’t really know what it would feel like, but I’m fairly sure I’d be upset.
Is that what’s upsetting you? You think Ian doesn’t trust you? ”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m not upset in the way Ian might think.
It’s not that I want to go back to bull riding.
I don’t want to go back on the circuit. But that was a fun part of my old life, and now it’s as if I can never mention it.
And how would that even work? I met Ian at a rodeo event—that’s part of our mating lore, and what?
I can’t talk about it ever because I upset Ian by doing it again?
“I had a chance to beat somebody, the one person I have not been able to beat in all my years of bull riding, and I did it. Ian wasn’t pleased for me for one second. He was so caught up in his anger and his anxiety, and I know he feels that way because he cares about me, but…
“But you just don’t like the fact that he made you feel as if you were being selfish for doing something from your past. Does he know about all the years you used to do it?”
Rick shook his head. “None of the details. It’s not like we’ve been together very long.
Between the issues with his family and still having to babysit here and there, we both work, and everything else…
we have lives. It’s not like we’ve got a lot of time to be able to just, you know, sit down and just talk with each other.
” This had a lot to do with the mating pull, too, which remained dominant.
“And I do—I worry that if I bring it up, and try to explain that what I was doing wasn’t some stupid whim, that it was actually… ”
He trailed off, not even sure how he could phrase it. But Toby prodded him. “It was actually what?”
“The realization of a dream I’ve had for decades. I was right, because that dream was only important to me. So instead of celebrating, I’m being made to feel like a right ass, because I upset Ian, and I knew it would upset Ian before I did it, and I did it anyway.”
Rick sighed heavily, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, because in that moment he felt like he did.
“I don’t think I’m doing this mating business right.
I honestly thought that after the bones had healed and the shift had happened, Ian could find five minutes to be happy for me.
I guess selfish mates don’t deserve that, and that’s the way it is.
Probably best not to talk about it at all. ”
“I still think you should talk to Ian,” Toby persisted firmly. “I know in my own head, if there was anything wrong between Ernest and me, I wouldn’t let him sleep until we’d talked it out and worked things out between us.”
“I can understand—that’s how I think too, but I have a feeling if I tried that, talking when Ian needed sleep or to be with his family would be another example of me being selfish again.”
Rick wished that one damn word didn’t hurt so much.
Ian telling him that’s how he felt Rick had acted made him question everything in his mating.
It was as if the only way Ian would care for him was if he did absolutely nothing except turn up for work like a good little boy, fix tractors, and then go home and cook meals and make sure Ian was satisfied in bed… all of which he loved to do.
Rick had never been considered a selfish person before—he prided himself on not being—and basically being told that’s what he’d done…
He wondered how many other things in his life he wouldn’t do, or even mention to his mate, purely because he never wanted to hear anger come out of Ian’s beautiful mouth again.
“I guess things will work out,” he said slowly.
“We’re mated, right? And it’s not like we can talk about it tonight, because apparently, we’re babysitting for another one of the siblings.
And I’m not going to be selfish and turn around and say we can’t do that, just because I think getting our mating back on track is more important. ”
“I think you’re getting a little hung up on that one word,” Toby said, “but I do understand. I also know that you need to talk to Ian before things get too bad.”
“If I think of it, I’ll make an appointment with him.
” Rick shook himself off and tried to get his brain on track, hating how petty he sounded even to himself.
“As I say, Ian has family commitments, and my job on those family commitments is just to go along, smile, and be the friendly bear that kids love to climb all over. It’s hardly the time for a serious conversation.
But anyway, enough about my mess. Why did you say you were home? ”
“I wanted to get home before you and Ian left today.” Toby darted out the door and came back with a box Rick recognized.
“Morty made this for you, when he figured you would win. It was our way of saying congratulations on achieving a dream you’ve had for so long.
I hope you enjoy it,” he added as he handed it over.
Before Rick had a chance to say thank you, Toby stood on tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Rick’s cheeks. “We’re really proud of you,” he said with a huge smile as he ran out the door.
Opening the box, Rick saw a big, multi-colored cake, covered in what looked like blood splatter, but smelled like raspberry. The word “Congratulations” was scrawled across the middle of it in white icing. It looked and smelled amazing.
Closing it, Rick carefully set the box aside.
He would put it in the truck shortly. The cake was definitely big enough to share with Ian, but Rick wasn’t sure that Ian would appreciate it.
Maybe I can scrape the word off, and we could give it to the kids we’re looking after tonight, he thought sadly.
The last thing he wanted was to upset Ian again.