Chapter Four
Garett
Garett leaned against the side of his black truck, squinting against the late afternoon sun as a group of travelers spilled out of the terminal at Billings Airport. Garett scanned the crowd for any sign of Torin. The anticipation of meeting him made his heart race. As the crowd parted, Garett finally spotted him—a young man with striking blue eyes and a slender frame. Torin’s blond hair fell softly over his forehead, and the small earrings in his ear glinted under the harsh airport lights.
Even from a short distance, Garett could see the sadness etched into Torin’s features, like shadows he couldn’t escape. He straightened, brushing the snow off his jacket, and walked across the street. What had Bishop done to him? He looked so fragile and vulnerable.
Torin’s steps were heavy, as if each one was a struggle. Garett’s heart ached at the sight. Those piercing blue eyes held a depth of sorrow that seemed almost unbearable. A wave of protectiveness washed over Garett, a fierce need to shield the boy from any further pain. He knew Torin needed more than just a safe place to stay; he needed kindness and encouragement to rebuild his shattered confidence.
“You Torin?” Garett asked, extending his hand.
Torin looked up, startled, and nodded. “Yeah. You must be Garett.” His voice was soft, with a hint of that New York City edge. He took the hand offered, his grip firm despite the clear weariness in his eyes.
“Welcome to Montana,” Garett said, offering a small smile. “Let’s get those bags loaded up, boy.”
Torin hesitated, then nodded again. “Thanks.”
They walked in silence for a moment, Garett easily hefting the suitcases into the bed of his truck. Torin moved slower, his movements deliberate, as if the weight he carried wasn’t just in his luggage.
Once everything was secured, Garett opened the passenger door for Torin then climbed into the driver’s seat. The truck rumbled to life, a low growl that filled the silence.
“So, New York City, huh?” Garett asked, glancing sideways at his passenger as they pulled out onto the highway.
Torin looked out the window, fiddling with the leather bracelets on his wrist. “Yeah. Born and raised.”
“Big change from the city to, well…this,” Garett said, motioning to the open road ahead, where fields stretched endlessly under a wide, golden sky.
Torin gave a short laugh, though it lacked any genuine humor. “That’s putting it mildly.”
Garett nodded, sensing Torin wasn’t quite ready to dive too deep. “What brought you out here?”
Torin hesitated, his fingers still playing with the bracelets. “My brother thought it’d be…good for me. Said I needed a change.”
The way he said it made Garett’s chest tighten, though he wasn’t sure why. There was something in Torin’s voice, a vulnerability he wasn’t used to hearing from people. “Well, ranch work’s about as far from city life as you can get,” Garett said lightly.
Torin finally looked over at him, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “What about you? Born and raised here?”
“Yep. Grew up on my family’s ranch. Left for a while for—the University of San Francisco.” Garett kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel Torin’s gaze lingering.
“I don’t understand why you would return after you got out of here. I’d love to live in San Francisco.”
Garett shrugged, his grip tightening on the wheel. “It’s home. Didn’t feel right anywhere else.”
Torin nodded slowly. “I get that, I think. Or…I want to.”
Something about the way Torin said it—quiet, almost wistful—made Garett glance at him again. The late sunlight caught on his blond hair, turning it gold, and Garett felt something unexpected twist in his chest.
“So,” Garett said, clearing his throat, “have you ever worked on a ranch before?”
Torin laughed softly, and this time there was a bit more warmth in it. “Not unless you count watching cowboy movies.”
Garett chuckled. “Well, you’re in for a real crash course then.”
“Guess so,” Torin said, his smile fading slightly. “Hope I don’t mess it up too bad.”
“You’ll be fine,” Garett said, his voice softening. “We’ll figure it out.”
Torin glanced at him, and for the first time, Garett saw a hint of something other than sadness in his expression—something like hope. The sight of it made Garett’s chest tighten again, though he couldn’t explain why.
The rest of the drive passed in a mix of small talk and comfortable silences, but Garett couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another ranch hand he was picking up. There was something about Torin—something pulling at him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. If he met him at the club, he’d collar him immediately, but Dante said he was gay. Nothing else was attached to him being gay.
He parked his truck in the parking area, then waited for the Stagecoach.
“We need to stop at Dante’s home. He is the owner of Carrillo Ranch along with his husband Blaine. The deal your brother made was with him, not me.”
“Oh, I was hoping you were going to be my boss.”
“Don’t worry. I will be, but Dante is the boss of the compound.”
Garett leaned back into the plush leather of Dante’s couch, arms crossed, his face carefully neutral. Torin sat beside him, shoulders stiff and jaw tight, his irritation radiating like heat off the pavement in summer. Across from them, Dante was the picture of unyielding authority, seated upright in a high-backed chair as though it were a throne.
“I wasn’t happy when you didn’t answer your brother’s calls,” Dante said, his voice calm but firm, his sharp gaze fixed on Torin.
Torin shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Garett briefly, as if searching for an ally. Garett kept his expression steady, though his stomach churned. He hated seeing Torin on the receiving end of Dante’s scrutiny, but he also knew better than to interrupt.
Dante continued, “From now on, you’ll stay here with Garett. He’ll be your point of contact for everything. You’ll work with him, and you’ll stay in the compound. If you want to go anywhere outside, you’ll ask Garett for permission first.”
The words dropped into the room like stones into still water, each one sending ripples through the air. Garett’s chest tightened as he saw Torin’s hands clenched into fists on his thighs. The younger man’s mouth opened, then closed, as though he were trying to swallow back a retort.
“You’ll be here for one year,” Dante added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Torin’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “What is this? Am I a prisoner?” he said, his voice sharp.
Garett felt a pang of guilt, but he forced himself to remain calm. He knew this was for Torin’s safety—Dante wouldn’t have gone to these lengths if it weren’t. Still, watching Torin’s frustration boil over was like a knife to the gut.
Dante’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re here because you need structure,” he said evenly. “This isn’t a punishment. It’s an opportunity to get your life back on track. And no, you’re not a prisoner. But you will follow the rules.”
Torin’s laugh was bitter. “Sounds like prison to me.”
Garett leaned forward, his voice softer than Dante’s, but no less resolute. “Torin, it’s not like that. You’ll have freedom within the compound. You’ll be working with me—it’s a chance to do something meaningful.”
Torin turned to him, his eyes narrowing. “Did you agree to this?”
Garett hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. It’s for your own good, Torin. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t believe that.”
Torin shook his head, leaning back with a huff. “Great. Just great.”
Garett glanced at Dante, whose expression remained impassive. Then he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Dante. For doing this.” The words felt heavy in his mouth, but he meant them. Even if Torin couldn’t see it yet, this was the best way forward.
Dante inclined his head. “Take care of him, Garett. He’s your responsibility now.”
As Dante’s words settled over them, Garett felt the weight of the situation pressing harder on his chest. He looked at Torin, who stared at the ceiling, his face a mask of defiance. Garett’s heart ached for him, but he knew there was no turning back now.