Chapter Three
Torin
Torin sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his fingers brushing over the phone screen as he stared at the picture that had just come through. Garett Barnes. The man was the epitome of rugged charm—a hot cowboy with striking ginger hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Torin couldn’t help but admire him. He was undeniably handsome. The man was unlike anyone he had known; his rough hands spoke of hard labor, and his eyes, a piercing blue, seemed to see right through him. Not a man to fuck with.
He wondered about Garett’s role, a knot of suspicion tightening in his gut as he considered the implications. Was he just a driver sent to pick him up, or was he going to be his boss at Carrillo Ranch? The idea of working closely with someone like Garett sent a curious mix of excitement and nervousness through him. Everything blurred for a moment. With no warning, Torin experienced a high. All his feelings of anxiety and loss dulled. Maybe going away would kill his love and desire for Byron. If he could somehow replace all his feelings for Byron onto Garett or someone like him, but wanting for a hot cowboy wishfully thinking.
Torin’s thoughts were interrupted by the shrill buzz of his phone. The screen lit up with a familiar name for the second time that day: Byron. Torin hesitated before answering.
“Hey,” Torin said cautiously.
“Torin,” Byron’s voice came through, smooth but edged with tension. “What room are you in?”
Torin froze for a moment, weighing his options. Part of him wanted to keep the door—and Byron—firmly shut. But another part, the one that still held onto a sliver of their past, hesitated. Finally, he sighed. “Room 306.”
In a matter of minutes, Byron was upstairs; the scent of his cologne lingered in the air as soon as the door opened. The door clicked shut behind Byron as he glided in, placing a tender kiss on Torin’s cheek, catching him completely by surprise. The familiarity of it stirred something in Torin, but he quickly pulled back. He wrestled with himself, his heart aching for Byron to hold him and never let go, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had made an agreement with Liam, and he would have to stick with it.
“Why are you here?” Torin asked, his eyes darting around, a nervous tremor in his voice.
The old dresser creaked slightly under Byron’s weight as he leaned against it, his arms crossed, a frown etched on his face. “I could ask you the same fucking thing. Why are you leaving New York? And what the fuck are you doing in a cheap motel room? Don’t give me that ‘time to think’ nonsense.”
Torin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I missed my plane. I needed space. Time to figure out what I want without all the noise.”
Byron’s expression hardened. “Bullshit,” he snapped. “This isn’t about you needing space. This is about your brother Liam, isn’t it? The almighty judge is always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He’s the one who’s messing up your academic life, making you move away from me, and now he’s got you convinced I hate you.”
Torin’s jaw tightened. “Liam’s not perfect, but don’t blame him for what you did to me. You brought a lot of this on yourself.”
“Oh, so now you’re taking his side?” Byron’s voice rose, anger flashing in his eyes. “Of course you are. You always were his little puppet.”
“Fuck you,” Torin shot back, his own anger bubbling to the surface. “I’m tired of being in the middle of your mess with him. This is all your fault.”
“I know you love me. And I love you.”
“Our love isn’t enough.”
He inched closer to Torin, the floorboards creaking under his weight as Torin backed away. “Don’t go. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“How could you make me risk my life and go to prison? And then say you love me? This is exactly why I need to get away.”
“Fuck that. I made a mistake. I didn’t see it that way. I was raised doing shit like that for my father. You were okay when I said no more, but as soon as your brother caught wind of it, everything changed. And what about you fucking around when we broke up?”
“We weren’t together then. But now I don’t trust you anymore. I need a break from you.”
The room seemed to vibrate with tension as the two stared each other down. Finally, Byron grabbed Torin’s phone and looked through it.
“Who the fuck is this redneck cowboy?” Byron’s expression turned red.
“He’s the driver for the ranch.”
“Now I know why you want to go.”
“I don’t know him. He sent his picture, so I know who is going to pick me up.”
Byron let out a bitter laugh. “And you need a break? A break to give your ass to an inbred cowboy in Montana?”
“Give me some time away so I can think.”
“You don’t want to leave school, your friends, and I know you don’t want to leave me. All this shit is coming from Liam.”
“I can’t be with you right now.” Everything Byron had said defined his feelings, but they also led him into trouble. His brother Liam read him the consequences for what he had done for Byron. Going to jail was not one of his life goals.
“You know what? Fine and fuck you. Run away from me. Hide on some ranch with your cowboy and pretend everything’s okay.”
Torin’s heart skipped at the mention of Garett, but he kept his face neutral.
After Byron left Torin sat on the edge of the bed, the stiff floral comforter barely cushioning the weight of his thoughts. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long, uneven shadows against the peeling wallpaper. His phone lay face down on the nightstand, dark and silent. Liam had left three messages, each more insistent than the last, but Torin couldn’t bring himself to listen to them. He already knew the tone: clipped, disappointed, and dripping with the perfection he could never match.
Byron’s voice still echoed in his head conversation, sharp edges of truth cutting through the haze of his exhaustion. He didn’t have the energy to replay it, to dissect the words and figure out where he’d gone wrong this time. Instead, he’d powered down his phone, a minor act of rebellion or maybe just a surrender, went down to the bar and ordered a beer and a cheeseburger from the diner down the street. It was easier to focus on the promise of food and alcohol than on the ache that had settled deep in his chest.
Leaving New York felt like tearing off a bandage, but instead of relief, the wound underneath was raw and exposed. He would miss the hum of the city, the way its chaos matched the rhythm of his thoughts. He would miss his friends, the ones who knew him before everything got so complicated, who didn’t measure him against an impossible standard. And college—his escape, his sanctuary—was now just another thing he’d left behind, another thing he’d failed to hold on to.
The beer arrived first, cold and sweating in its bottle. Torin took a long sip, letting the bitterness wash over his tongue. If Liam knew he was sitting here, drinking in some no-name motel bar instead of catching his plane, he’d blow up his phone with accusations of carelessness and ingratitude. Liam was perfect that way—always saying the right thing, always doing what needed to be done. Torin hated him for it sometimes, hated the way he could make him feel so small without even trying.
Torin didn’t like himself much right now. He didn’t like the way he’d walked away from everything that mattered, or the way he kept running, even when there was nowhere left to go. The beer was half-empty before he realized he was clutching the neck of the bottle too tightly, his knuckles white against the dark glass. He let out a shaky breath and loosened his grip.
He stared at the cheeseburger, steaming and fragrant, but he barely touched it. The weight in his chest had grown heavier, pressing down until it was hard to breathe. He didn’t want to leave New York, his friends, the version of himself he’d been before everything fell apart.