Chapter 15
Mike
Cash left me standing in the living room with my pants around my ankles, thoroughly fucked but also confused.
What had happened?
One minute he was inside me, the next he was checking his phone, walking to his bedroom, and shutting himself inside. I pulled up my pants, wincing at the mess and the slight ache that reminded me of what we’d just done. And he was just… gone.
I stood there feeling the cool air on my bare skin, trying to make sense of what just happened. The sound of his door shutting echoed in my head like some kind of period at the end of a sentence that didn’t make any sense.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, looking down at the evidence of our encounter still drying on the wall. I grabbed my shirt from the floor and wiped it off, feeling strangely hollow.
The sex had been incredible. It was raw, intense, and exactly what I needed. But the way he’d just walked away left me feeling used in a way I hadn’t anticipated. And I wasn’t sure I liked it this time, not when he’d clearly been so close to saying something… decent.
I tucked myself back into my pants and zipped up, trying to gather my dignity along with my scattered clothes. My body still hummed with the afterglow, but my mind was racing. This wasn’t just about sex anymore, and that terrified me.
“Fuck,” I whispered, running my hands through my hair.
I’d seen something in his eyes before that damn phone went off again. Something real and vulnerable that made my chest tight. I wanted to chase after it, to kick down his bedroom door and demand he finish what he was about to say.
Instead, I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, trying to cool the fire in my veins. The cold liquid slid down my throat, but did nothing to wash away the taste of him.
I stood there, leaning against the counter, debating my next move. The pastor in me said to be patient, to give him space. The man in me, the one who’d just been bent over and fucked senseless against a wall, wanted answers. Fucking now.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was walking toward his bedroom door. My knuckles rapped against the wood before I could second-guess myself.
“Cash?” I called, my voice steadier than I felt.
Silence.
“Are you okay?”
More silence, then a shuffling sound from inside.
“I’m on the phone,” he called. But it was followed by only silence. He was lying through his teeth.
I pressed my forehead against the door. “Bullshit. You were about to say something before your phone went off.”
“Drop it, Mike,” he warned. “On the phone.”
There was no arguing with him when he was like this. Better to just give him a moment to cool off. With a huff, I pulled away from the door and headed back to the kitchen. This, I figured, was as good enough a time as any to break into that new bottle of whiskey I’d gotten.
I poured myself three fingers of whiskey and knocked it back in one gulp, enjoying the burn as it hit my throat. I wasn’t much of a drinker. It wasn’t exactly a fitting habit for a pastor. But tonight called for something stronger than prayer.
The second glass required ice. And by the time I’d finished that, I’d pretty much given up on trying to win Cash over. He still hadn’t come out and even though I’d walked by his room a couple of times, it was pretty clear he wasn’t talking to anyone on that phone of his.
Instead of trying to push him again, I dropped my glass in the sink and headed for the shower, hoping it would help me clear my head.
The water was hot against my skin, running in rivulets down my body as I tried to wash away not just Cash’s touch but my confusion.
Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the mirror and clouding my thoughts.
I leaned my forehead against the cool tile, letting the water pound against my shoulders.
What was I doing here? Playing house with a man who could barely look me in the eye after fucking me senseless? A man who clearly had walls built so high I’d need a ladder truck from the fire department just to peek over them?
I sighed, turning my face into the spray. The water mixed with the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. This wasn’t me. I didn’t cry over men who couldn’t communicate, who used me for release then shut me out. Not anymore.
Yet here I was.
When the water began to run cold, I finally stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist. I wiped a circle in the foggy mirror and stared at my reflection. My eyes were slightly red, my lips still swollen from Cash’s rough kisses. I looked... wrecked. And not just physically.
“Get it together,” I muttered to myself. “You’re a leader of this community now, for Christ’s sake.”
I slipped into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. The house was quiet, Cash’s door still firmly shut. With a resigned sigh, I climbed into bed, turned out the light, and tried to sleep.
But sleep didn’t come. I tossed and turned, replaying the afternoon in my head, wondering what Cash had been about to say. Every creak of the house had me straining to hear if it was him finally emerging from his room. But he didn’t.
I must have eventually dozed off because I startled awake to the feeling of the mattress dipping beside me. The digital clock on my nightstand read a quarter past two in the morning.
“Cash?” I whispered into the darkness.
“Yeah,” his voice was rough, like he’d been drinking or maybe crying. I wasn’t sure which. “It’s me.”
I sat up, reaching for the lamp.
“Don’t,” he said, his hand catching my wrist. “Leave it off.”
In the moonlight filtering through the curtains, I could just make out his silhouette. He was shirtless and probably naked. I couldn’t tell. His hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest.
He was silent for a long moment, and I could hear his breathing, slightly uneven. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you decided to wake me up instead?” I tried for humor, but it fell flat in the tension between us.
Cash shifted on the bed, and I felt rather than saw him looking at me. “I’m sorry about earlier. Walking away like that.”
The apology caught me off guard. “Oh.”
“Yeah, I know you weren’t expecting that,” he scoffed, but without malice. “I’m not good at this.”
“At what? Sex? Because I’d have to strongly disagree there.”
He let out a soft huff that might have been a laugh. “No. At... talking. Apologizing. Being… open. All that shit.”
I reached out cautiously, finding his hand in the darkness. He didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to be good at it. You just have to try.”
His fingers tightened around mine. “Those cookies you brought,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “Did you make them?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m not much of a cook, but I try. Why?”
“They were good,” he said softly. “Real good. Some of the best I’ve had.”
My heart did a little flip in my chest. “Really? I thought you were just being polite.”
Cash snorted. “When have you ever known me to be polite?”
I laughed quietly. “Fair point.”
We sat in silence for a moment, his thumb absently stroking the back of my hand. It was such a small gesture, but it felt more intimate than anything we’d done against that wall earlier.
“My dad used to make cookies,” Cash said suddenly. “Not often, but sometimes. On Sundays.”
I held my breath, afraid to break the spell of this rare moment of openness.
“They weren’t as good as yours,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower. “But I always looked forward to them. Before everything went to shit.”
“What happened?” I asked gently. Even though I already knew the answer, I wanted to hear it from his lips.
I felt him tense beside me. For a moment, I thought he might get up and leave again. But he stayed.
“He found out I was gay,” Cash said flatly. “Walked in on me with my friend Tyler in the barn. I was sixteen. Dad didn’t say a word, just turned around and walked out. That night he told me I had to leave. That he didn’t want a faggot in his house.”
My chest ached for the teenage boy he’d been. “Cash, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said roughly. “It was a long time ago.”
“Doesn’t mean it stopped hurting.”
He was quiet again. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, so close to mine yet still holding himself apart.
“Why’d you become a pastor?” he asked, changing direction again.
I smiled in the darkness, used to his abrupt subject changes by now. “Because I believe in grace,” I said simply. “And second chances.”
“Even for people like me?”
The vulnerability in his question made my throat tight. “Especially for people like you.”
Cash’s hand slid from mine, but before I could mourn the loss of contact, his palm was cupping my cheek. His thumb traced my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine.
“I don’t deserve a second chance,” he whispered.
“Everyone does,” I insisted. “I got a second chance. So why shouldn’t a stubborn cowboy like you get one?”
Cash’s thumb froze against my lip. “What do you mean you got a second chance? What’d you do, Pastor? Steal from the collection plate?”
I could hear the teasing in his voice, but there was genuine curiosity there too. In the darkness, it was easier to be honest. Easier to let the words come that I usually kept locked away.
“I wasn’t always this... put together,” I admitted. “Before seminary, I was a mess. Drinking too much, sleeping with anyone who’d have me, running from everything that hurt.” I swallowed hard. “My parents died when I was nineteen. Car accident. I went off the rails after that.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to rest on my bare shoulder.
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” I echoed his earlier words with a sad smile.
“But I was lost. Then I found the wrong guy. A guy that I thought I could fix.” I shook my head, hating what I was about to say.
“And I really believed I could save him until he got me landed in prison for six months.”
Cash stiffened slightly. “You? In prison?”
“Hard to believe, right?” I gave him a shrug, glancing out the window at the moon hanging low in the sky. “I really thought my life was over. That I was worthless. Until someone believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.”
Cash shifted closer on the bed, his leg now pressing against mine. “Who?”
“An old pastor. Found me passed out on the church steps the morning after I got out of jail. Instead of calling the cops, he took me in. Let me stay in the rectory. Talked to me. Listened. Never judged.”
“And that made you want to be a pastor?” Cash’s voice held no mockery, just genuine curiosity.
I nodded, though he probably couldn’t see it clearly in the dim light. “I saw how one person could change someone’s life just by giving a damn. I wanted to be that for someone else. I’ve always wanted to be that for someone else. I like to help people.”
His hand moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. The touch was gentle, almost tender.
“You tryin’ to fix me, Mike?” he asked, his voice rough.
I leaned into his touch. “No. I don’t think you need fixing. You’re perfect just the way you are. I think you just need someone to give a damn.”
Cash was quiet for a long moment, his breathing the only sound between us. Then I felt the bed shift as he moved closer.
“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
My heart hammered in my chest. This wasn’t about sex. That was easy enough to tell from his tone. This was about something far more intimate.
“Yeah,” I said, lying back down and lifting the covers. “Of course you can stay.”
He slid under the sheets beside me, his body radiating heat. For a moment, we both lay there, not touching, the space between us electric with possibility. Then, to my surprise, Cash turned on his side and draped an arm over my waist, pulling me against his chest.
“This okay?” he murmured against my hair.
“More than okay,” I whispered back, relaxing into his embrace.
His chest rose and fell steadily against my back, his breath warming my neck. It felt strange. Not the position, but the tenderness of it. This wasn’t the Cash who’d fucked me against the wall hours earlier. This was someone else entirely, someone vulnerable and seeking comfort.
“Your dad,” I said carefully, “leaving you the ranch... do you think it was his way of apologizing?”
Cash’s arm tightened around me briefly. “Don’t know. Maybe. Too little, too late if it was.”
“But you’re here.”
“Nowhere else to go,” he said, but there was less bite in his words than usual.
I covered his hand with mine where it rested on my stomach. “We’ve all got somewhere to go, Cash. You chose to come here.”
He was quiet again, his thumb making small circles on my skin. “Maybe I did,” he finally admitted. “Maybe I wanted... closure or somethin’. I don’t know.”
“And have you found it?”
Cash buried his face against the back of my neck. “Found somethin’,” he muttered. “Not sure what yet.”
The honesty in his voice made my chest ache. I squeezed his hand, unable to find the right words. We lay like that for what felt like hours, neither of us speaking, just existing together in the darkness.
I was drifting toward sleep when Cash’s voice pulled me back.
“Mike?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for the cookies.”
I smiled into the darkness, feeling something warm unfurl in my chest. It wasn’t just about the cookies. We both knew that. But it was a start. A crack in the wall he’d built around himself.
“Anytime,” I whispered back.
His breathing eventually deepened, his body relaxing against mine as he fell asleep.
I lay awake a little longer, savoring the weight of his arm around me, the steady beat of his heart against my back.
This wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d come to Sagebrush.
It wasn’t what I’d planned when I’d offered Cash a place to stay.
But as I finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, I couldn’t help but think that sometimes the best things in life were the ones you never saw coming. And sometimes, they wore a cowboy hat and a grumpy expression.