Chapter 12 #2
John eyed me. “You’ve been all work and no play since the accident. How many years now?”
“Eight.”
“Maybe it’s time to find Miguel and get some closure. Or maybe not. What the fuck do I know about relationships? But I like how you are with Austin, and I don’t want to see you fuck up a good thing because you’re hung up on one mistake from years ago.”
Tiffany patted the couch beside her. “You’re pretty good with relationships, honey.”
“Thanks.” John lowered himself heavily next to Tiffany and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
A pang of longing hit me, looking at them with their dogs in front of their fire, cozy together. I want that.
John turned to me. “You want me to let you know if I hear from Austin again?”
“No, you’re right. He can tell me whatever he wants.” I backed to the door. “Thanks. Sorry I’ve been such a useless lump the last four days.”
“I wouldn’t say useless,” John countered. “A bit scattered, yeah.”
Tiffany tilted her head. “The man you love just walked off into the blue. You have an excuse.”
“I’m not in love,” I shot back. Love? What the hell?
“But you could be. I’ve seen how you look at him.”
I grabbed my hair, tugging the curls clenched in my fists. “I need to think.”
John waved at me. “Go think in your own cabin. I have thirty minutes before my wife and I have to turn in, and I plan to enjoy them.”
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” I donned my parka and boots, let myself out, and trudged to the barn instead of my cabin.
Ahwan whickered to me as I approached her stall. I patted her neck and rubbed her cheek. “Sorry, pretty girl. No carrots for you tonight.” Which reminded me of Austin. I hoped he was eating okay. He should have the money for food, for now.
Had I worried about Miguel when he’d left the ranch?
Maybe a little, but he’d been twenty-two not eighteen, and headed for a job he’d enjoy.
I couldn’t remember where, though. Couldn’t recall much about him going.
I’d blamed myself for that mistake, and at the time, I’d thought my head would explode with the swirl of regret and self-loathing.
Now, as I thought back, I remembered Miguel kissing my cheek. Remembered him trying for a real kiss and I’d turned away. Why? Why didn’t I hug and reassure him?
Because I blamed him. The truth hit me, painfully. I realized I’d been deeply, resentfully angry about his power over me. Seeing his truck and the trailer with his mare Stella vanish down the road hadn’t affected me like watching Austin leave, because I was relieved Miguel was gone.
Ahwan nudged me hard enough to knock me sideways a step, and I sighed. “Did I stop scratching your itch. Sorry, girl.”
I dutifully dug my fingers into Ahwan’s thick coat under her mane as I thought back to the days I’d tried to erase from my head.
A week after the disaster, Zachary was long gone, first in the ambulance bouncing down the rutted drive toward the Sanderville hospital, then flown on to a big-city trauma unit in San Francisco.
He’d had two surgeries, according to the boss, and never returned my calls.
I was a mess, my hands shaking every time I reached for a saddle.
And Miguel? What had he been thinking, or feeling?
I realized I didn’t know.
Maybe I should find out.
Ahwan nickered after me as I walked down the aisle.
The feed room was warmer than the stalls.
I hunkered down on a bench and pulled out my phone.
Searching online wasn’t my good thing, but I gave it a try and eventually found one picture of a Miguel Pascual coming in second in a rodeo saddle bronc event two years ago.
The photo was too small to see the guy’s face, but I was certain the rider was my Miguel. Alive and doing okay.
The way he liked technology, he was probably on Facebook or Twitter, but I wasn’t and didn’t know how to be. I fiddled with my phone and wound up in my contacts list. There he was, amid the small collection of names. Unlikely that he’d kept the same number since then, but after all, I had.
Before I could rethink it, I texted, ~Hey, Miguel? It’s Seth.
There was no reply for so long I was sure some stranger had sent my message into the trash, but then my phone pinged.
Miguel: ~Holy shit, dude. How are you?
I stared down at the words like they might bite me. Now Miguel had answered, I had no idea what I wanted to say. After several long seconds, I managed, ~I’m fine. How are you?
Miguel: ~Hanging in there. Long time no hear.
Seth: ~Yeah. Sorry about that.
Miguel: ~I think it’s on both of us.
Seth: ~Yes. But
I couldn’t come up with the right words, and my thumbs felt clumsy on the keyboard. I hit the call button.
Miguel answered on the second ring, laughing as he spoke. “I had a bet with myself how long it would take you to go to voice.”
“You know me too well.”
“Some things never change.”
“I have. A bit.” I screwed up my courage. “Enough to say sorry for how things went down with Zachary. I didn’t mean to ice you off the ranch. I should’ve given some thought to how you were feeling. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, no, papi, none of that was your fault.”
I huffed a breath at the obvious lie.
“I mean it.” Miguel lowered his tone. “Seth. Listen up, okay, because I’m only going to say this once. That day was a shit show, but Zachary fucked up, and so did I. I knew I was distracting you. Should’ve been smart enough to know it was the wrong time to flirt. My fault.”
“I liked being distracted by you, though. Having you flirt with me was exciting.” Sometimes annoying, or frustrating when we were working, but I’d never complained.
“Yeah, and I loved the power of making you look at me even when you didn’t want to.”
“Huh?”
Miguel sighed. “Listen, I liked you, okay? A lot. But the best part was having the power to wind you up, to make you hot, in public even. This cool, shy cowboy, breaking out of his shell for me.”
“I wasn’t shy.”
“Reserved, then.”
“I guess.” I couldn’t really argue with that. Keeping quiet and staying aloof had always felt safer. Miguel had made me brave enough to come out, when I’d been hiding a big part of myself.
Miguel continued, “You know I had a rough time at home as a kid, right?”
“Yeah.” I remembered his nightmares, and the picture I’d gleaned from what little he’d said. I’d been proud when he’d let me hold him afterward, but he’d never tolerated my reassurances for long.
He cleared his throat. “So, one of the toughest things about having a bad parent is, as a kid, you don’t have control. No control over your life, no control of what happens to your body, your pain. Stop means nothing. Yes and no mean nothing. Things happen to you and you can’t stop them.”
“I’m sorry.” My heart ached for him, for every kid trapped like that.
Miguel sighed. “I’m not saying this for sympathy.
I’m explaining. Back when I met you, when I began sleeping with you, I was still hungry for control.
I didn’t want to be like my father, or hurt anyone, but I loved to make men want me, make an effort to be with me.
It was the greatest feeling of power to make a guy chase me across the dance floor and get on his knees, or to make you stop stacking hay bales and just stare at me with your mouth open.
I could say yes, or I could say no, and men obeyed me.
No asking, no begging. I could make a closeted cowboy like you want me so much you’d do stuff you’d never done before. ”
“You sure did,” I admitted. Hearing how it’d meant much less to him than me stung, but I didn’t regret those days. “I wanted to, though. I’m glad I came out. I enjoyed being with you.”
“Yeah. We were hot for each other. But I could tell you were looking for more than that, weren’t you?”
I swallowed, not wanting to admit he was right. “You told me the score, right from the start. Casual. Not exclusive.” Whatever dreams I’d had were my own problem. Miguel had never led me on.
Miguel hummed under his breath, a small, achingly familiar sound. “Except it killed you to watch me hook my finger in some stud’s collar and pull him into the bathroom to blow me, didn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say killed.” I hadn’t liked those nights, watching Miguel flirt and smile and land another stranger willing to worship his dick, but I was the guy he went home with.
“Okay, mild exaggeration. Fact stands. We were a terrible match. Then I flirted with you at exactly the wrong moment, Zachary fucked up, and suddenly Copper was dead, Zach was fucked to hell, and you? You were beating yourself up and refusing to look me in the eye.”
That was a pretty good summary. “I didn’t blame you,” I said, tasting the lie.
“I blamed myself. I played with you for the feeling of power it gave me, and disaster happened.”
“I think all three of us contributed to that disaster,” I pointed out, and realized I truly believed that for the first time.
Miguel barked a laugh that held very little humor. “Yeah. Agreed. But I was fucked up over it, almost as bad as you were. I couldn’t look at you either, feeling sick over what I’d done. I needed to get off the ranch.”
“And you had that job offer.”
Miguel snorted. “Heh. I lied about that. Didn’t want your overdeveloped sense of responsibility interfering.”
Well, shit. Believing he had somewhere better to go had reassured me.
I hoped Miguel was right, that I’d have asked him to stay if I’d known that wasn’t true, but it was hard to think back to that swirling morass of guilt and yeah, blame.
“Were you okay? You found work?” I realized I cared a lot that he hadn’t struggled like Austin did.
“Yeah. Had a couple of tough months, started drinking too much. But you can’t work around horses drunk, so I pulled my ass together.
I did some rodeo, won a prize or two, and met a woman who bred saddle broncs.
Her top wrangler had busted his shoulder and ribs coming off a bull, and she took me on.
That job led to another. I’m training cutting horses now. ”
“I’m glad. That’s what you always wanted.”
“Yep.” He chuckled. “Got me a boyfriend too, if you can believe it. Not a jealous bone in his body. We fuck who we want, as long as we come home to each other. It works for us.”
“I’m glad,” I repeated, though I couldn’t imagine truly loving a man that way.
“What about you?”
“Huh?”
“Who’s the guy?” Miguel laughed when I said nothing. “Come on, you didn’t suddenly decide to reconnect out of thin air. I bet there’s a guy. Am I wrong?”
“No,” I admitted. “He’s… a temporary hand, might come back next summer. He’s not like you.”
“A good thing too. I wasn’t who you wanted. You wanted a guy to take care of, maybe order around a bit, and spoil rotten. You backed off when I told you to, but I wasn’t that guy. Is he?”
I thought about Austin, his careful hands and lush mouth, the way he listened to me, the way he settled in my arms. “Could be.”
“Then hang onto him,” Miguel told me. “You deserve someone good, you hear me? Whatever we did or didn’t do back then is water under the bridge. You’re a good man, Seth Grant, and you deserve a guy who can appreciate that.”
I forced, “Thanks,” through my tight throat.
“Don’t be a stranger. Send me a picture when you get engaged.”
I choked a laugh.
Miguel said, “Hey, it’s 2013 and you Californians just made gay marriage legal, not like us here in New Mexico. Take advantage.”
“I don’t think Austin and I are close to there yet,” I told him.
Miguel chuckled. “Sure. But when you are, I want to see this Austin, see if he’s good enough for you.”
“It’s the other way around,” I said.
“Then I’m happy for you. Take care, Seth.”
“Bye.”
I stared down at my phone as the call dropped.
Miguel was okay, happy, working a job he loved, and it didn’t sound like he blamed me for driving him off the Star & Bar, eight years ago. Another piece of the guilt and anger I’d carried so long fell away.
Miguel was happy, and Austin was okay, safe, even if he was working in crappy retail and living in a dump. I could call Austin now and hear his voice, anytime I needed to.
“Wow,” I murmured, a smile crossing my face. “All right, then.”
I stuck my phone in my pocket and left the barn, feeling lighter than I had in a long, long time.