Chapter Twenty
TRISTAN
The lemonade was cold and sharp, and Tristan tried not to chug it all in one go. Especially when he saw Colby just taking little sips of his. Showing manners, Bryce would have said, not inhaling his drink like a vacuum cleaner.
But Tristan wondered if that was all it was. Maybe Colby didn’t like lemonade but didn’t dare say so. Or maybe he thought he might not get any more and was savoring it.
“Want some more?” he offered, hefting the jug he’d grabbed from the fridge.
“Or something else? We’ve got water, juice and soda.
Oh, and tea, if Jesse hasn’t had it all.
Which he will have done, because when it comes to sugar, he’s like a bear with honey.
Which is basically sugar, so bad analogy.
Anyway, the point is, he really likes sugar.
And tea. So, maybe no tea, but is there something else you want? Or just more lemonade?”
Colby was silent too long, and Tristan belatedly picked up on his expression. It looked like it was a hard decision for him, for some reason. Tristan turned away to refill his own glass, giving Colby time without being watched.
“Yes, please,” Colby said at last, his words a little hoarse, and he held out his glass for a top-up.
Tristan was going to have to learn to think more, because something about that choice had felt like a struggle for Colby. But for now, he looked happy, drinking his lemonade in the light that poured through the kitchen window.
“There’s a place I want to show you,” Tristan said.
“When we’ve had our drinks,” he added, because Colby had immediately put his glass on the side, as if he were ready to leave now.
“It’s not far, just through the trees. My thinking spot, where I go if I want to be alone.
I mean, not from you, obviously. But maybe we’d want to be alone together? ”
God. Why did his mouth always keep going like that? He’d meant it to sound kind of casual and sweet, not like an invitation to go make out behind a tree. He really needed to learn to stop talking while he was ahead.
But Colby nodded anyway. Once the glasses were safely stashed in the dishwasher, avoiding Jason’s wrath, he followed Tristan outside, falling into step beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
They didn’t speak as they walked, and the silence didn’t feel like it needed filling. Instead, the sound of birdsong and soft crunches from the first leaves littering the path made everything peaceful and easy.
The clearing was ringed by tall trees and dappled by the sun slanting through the leaves. A low boulder jutted up on one side, in a patch of sunlight, and Tristan flopped onto it. Colby sat beside him, close though not touching.
For a while, Tristan just let himself breathe, loving the peace of this place. But his thoughts kept circling. This question had been building since their kiss in the tack room. And before that, if he was honest. Ever since Bryce had said Colby never got to choose.
Tristan remembered everything that had happened at Cale’s compound, including the way Nico had draped himself over Colby like he owned him. Colby hadn’t welcomed Nico, or stepped away. He’d just stood there, blank-faced and silent, like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter.
That image had stuck with Tristan, no matter how hard he’d tried not to think about it. But after the way Colby had melted against him in the tack room, the way he’d kissed him back, Tristan couldn’t ignore it anymore.
He didn’t want to make Colby feel like he had to explain anything. But if he didn’t know, he might do worse harm than just embarrassing him by asking.
“Can I ask you something awkward? Like, really awkward, and maybe I shouldn’t?” he said at last. His voice came out higher than usual, betraying his nerves.
Colby’s brow creased slightly. “Course.”
Tristan sat up straighter. “I’m not trying to make anything weird. And maybe I shouldn’t say this at all, but after what happened in the tack room—I just want to make sure I’m not moving too fast for you.”
Colby blinked, but he didn’t pull away from where he was sitting beside Tristan.
“I don’t know everything you’ve been through,” Tristan added.
“But I can guess enough. And I just…” He studied his hands rather than look at Colby.
“I don’t want to assume you want more just because I do.
And if you do—I want to know what more means for you.
Or if you even want to think about that stuff right now.
Which maybe you don’t, and I’d get that. ”
Colby looked at him for a long moment, his face completely expressionless.
Tristan’s stomach clenched tight, as he realized he’d fucked up spectacularly by asking, but then Colby finally spoke, his voice low.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been trying not to think about it. Because if I did… I don’t know what I’d do with it.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth and let it drop, staring down at his knees.
“With Nico, it wasn’t always about sex. Not really. It was more about…” He trailed off, then gave a humorless laugh. “Control. Ownership. Making sure I knew my place.”
He was quiet so long that Tristan’s withheld breath came out in a rush, and he had to consciously steady the next one. But Colby didn’t seem to notice. He was somewhere else entirely, eyes far away.
“And that wasn’t how it started between us, so it’s all kind of tangled. I used to love him, or I thought I did.” He put his hands to his face and held them there a long moment, as if composing himself. Or hiding. Then he raised his head again, seeking out Tristan’s eyes.
“Sometimes, even at the end, it was good,” he admitted. “It felt good to be touched. Not to be hurt.” His breath caught. “And that messed with my head. Made me doubt what I felt. What was real.”
Colby dragged in a shuddering breath, eyes still locked to Tristan’s like he was the only thing holding him steady. “I still don’t know,” he said softly.
God, he sounded so ashamed. And Tristan was so far out of his depth it wasn’t funny.
“Can I?” he asked, and reached out—hand hovering, not quite touching.
For a long moment, Colby sat frozen. But then he moved, threading their fingers together, and letting out a shaky breath. Tristan said nothing. He didn’t understand, not really, but maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe he just needed to be there.
They sat in silence, just breathing. Until Colby said, quieter still, “With you—everything’s different.
I want this. I just don’t know how I’ll react.
If I’ll…” He shook his head. “I want you, Tristan. Not just the kissing. I want all of it. I just—I don’t know.
If I get weird, or just… can’t—it’s not you. It’s not that I don’t want you.”
“Then you just say the word, and we stop,” Tristan said. “No guilt trip, no weirdness. Just—stop.”
Something in Colby’s posture eased. He squeezed Tristan’s fingers.
“You’re kind of amazing,” he murmured.
“I just don’t want to get this wrong,” Tristan confessed, his voice low.
They sat like that for a while, peace settling around them again, before Tristan started to fidget. There was something he wanted to tell Colby, but he didn’t know where this impulse to share his darkest secret was coming from.
Maybe he wanted to give something back to Colby, who’d been open with him about something incredibly intimate.
Maybe he wanted Colby to know him completely.
Or maybe—maybe part of him wanted to be sure that Colby really was everything he thought.
That Colby wouldn’t turn away from him if he knew the truth about Tristan.
“Can I tell you something?”
Colby nodded.
Tristan drew in a deep breath. Once the words were out, there was no going back. “My mom’s an addict,” he said. “Has been since I was a kid. She’s been in and out of rehab more times than I can count.”
He paused, because there was no good way to spin what he was about to say, and he didn’t want anyone, not even Colby, judging her.
“She gave me to Bryce when I was fourteen. She remembered him from when they dated briefly, years earlier. Said he was kind, and I’d be safer with him.”
Colby was very still, but his hand on Tristan’s tightened slightly.
“I love her,” Tristan said quietly. “She tried. She really did. But sometimes I still get angry at her. And then I hate myself for that, for not being kinder.”
Colby was silent a moment, as if weighing his words. “You needed more than she could give,” he said softly at last. “It doesn’t make you unkind.”
Tears pricked Tristan’s eyes at the affirmation, the knowledge Colby didn’t think he was a terrible person.
“But I wish I didn’t feel this way when it’s not her fault, not really.
It’s just there’s a part of me that wishes she’d fought harder.
Sometimes, I’m furious with her that she couldn’t stay clean, not even for me.
That she wasn’t the kind of mom other kids had.
She handed me over to a guy she barely knew.
And yeah, it turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me, but still. ”
Words were tumbling over one another, and he paused, trying to calm himself.
“And then I remember her making me pancakes in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. She used to read me stories. She tried to give me what she could, even when it wasn’t enough. Yet I’m still angry at her.” The confession slipped out, sour and shameful.
Colby leaned in, his hand warm and comforting in Tristan’s.
“Sounds like she did what she could,” he said softly. “It just wasn’t enough. And that’s not fair on you, and it’s not your fault. Not your fault that it happened, and not your fault you’re angry about it.”
Tristan swallowed, and something deep inside him eased. “Yeah,” he said, and for that moment, it felt like he believed it.
COLBY
He didn’t know how much time had passed when Tristan stood up and stretched. With difficulty, Colby kept from staring too hard at the way his shirt rose up, exposing a sliver of skin.
He’d meant what he said earlier about wanting Tristan. There was no denying how much Tristan turned him on. But that didn’t make the fear disappear.
He wasn’t afraid of Tristan hurting him—he knew that he wouldn’t. It was what might happen. What if, somewhere in the middle of it, he looked up and saw the wrong face? Heard the wrong voice? What if all the gentle things Tristan gave him got tangled up with something else?
He was terrified that, just for a moment, it might feel like before. Like being powerless again. And if it did, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see Tristan the same way again.
“Lunch?” Tristan offered, blissfully unaware of his thoughts.
They walked slowly through the trees, back toward the house. Unexpectedly, leaving the clearing didn’t mean the intimacy between them was gone. It stayed with them, swirling around them as Tristan shot him a sideways grin full of happiness.
* * *
The afternoon passed that way, in a kind of golden haze of perfection.
They sorted out and cleaned a pile of tack Tristan swore had been dumped there centuries ago. At some point, someone had left cake in the kitchen with a sticky note reading Eat me— J, and they’d devoured it leaning on the porch rail, side by side, watching a hawk circle lazily overhead.
Tristan talked most of the time. About the ranch, the horses, the pack. Nothing too personal, not like earlier, but it was enough to help Colby piece together more about this place and Tristan’s world, so different from the one Colby had known.
One of the pack passed by in the distance, leading a pair of horses. He raised a hand in a casual greeting. “Dave,” Tristan murmured. “You’ll like him.”
Colby nodded. Something about the way Tristan said it made him believe it could be true.
They didn’t talk about what came next. It was enough that Colby was staying. For a while, anyway.
Once, as they passed each other in the tack room, Tristan brushed his hand along Colby’s spine. A small, fleeting touch, gentle and warm.
And for a second, Colby closed his eyes and breathed.