Hoyt
Well fuck.
My brother was waiting for me. Inside the trailer. Sitting there on my cot as if he owned the place which he did not. Wholly. He had a quarter. Fine. He owned a fourth of the land my trailer sat on. Whatever.
Sliding to the ground I paused to watch a slew of teenagers passing by in a pack like they do, phones in hands, cowboy boots and hats, dirty jeans. What the hell was going on with the kids here day in and day out?
“Morning,” Jesse called as I made my way to my little home on wheels. “I knocked a dozen times. When you didn’t reply I got worried and let myself in.”
“Guess I need a lock,” I muttered, climbing the ramp then stepping over his long legs to get to the mound of clean clothes in the corner. “Ever occur to you to look to see if my truck was here?”
“It did. And it wasn’t.”
“So you just broke into my place anyway?” I lifted a blue tee from the pile, sniffed it, and concluded it was dirty.
Huh. I could have sworn I had done laundry just a few weeks ago.
Guess it was time to do more. I’d just wear what I had on.
This way I could avoid having to fuck with the sling.
Next week could not come soon enough. Being free of this miserable thing was a step closer to hitting the road.
And man did I long to get back on a bull. Yep. I couldn’t wait.
“Not sure breaking in applies if the door has no lock,” Jesse fired back while I rummaged around in a cloth sack for something to eat. “What the hell happened to your neck?”
I plucked a box of toaster pastries from my snack rations. I did not answer as I hid the shame on my face by concentrating on opening the box of tarts. Frosted this time. I chucked a silver packet to my brother. He caught it with ease but his gaze was tight to the love mark on my neck.
“I was out last night.”
“That’s obvious. Did you hookup with one of the hands?”
“No, I don’t shit where I sleep,” I flung back then ripped the packet open. “I just…met someone. It’s nothing.” I glanced over from my tart to my brother. His face told me he was feeling that it was not nothing. “Don’t start. It was nothing. Just a…a thing. A thing that happened. No sex.”
“Sure, okay, so some guy just sucked on your neck but not your dick. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
A young girl ran past, a guy on her heels, both giggling like drunken geese.
“Why the hell are there so many kids here so fucking early?” I sat down beside him to eat my breakfast. He tonked me on the head with his tarts. I growled around a mouthful of goodness.
“They’re here because they’re guests. We offer LGBTQ kids a place to stay.” I choked on my tart so hard Jesse had to beat me on the back with a fist. When the crust came up I spat it out the open door then gaped at my little brother. “You asked.”
“And Abel is down with packs of roaming teen queers on his ranch?”
“Not his ranch anymore and Abel has no clue as to our outreach programs. Abel doesn’t recall what he did yesterday.”
I found a bottle of water under the bed, opened it, and drank down a few long gulps.
“This place is not the same place it was when I was being kicked around like a soccer ball,” I mumbled.
“No, thank God. So, back to your neck.”
“For fuck’s sake give it a rest.”
“Do I know him?”
“Fuck all the way off. I’m not discussing my romance with you.”
“Oh, it’s a romance?”
I turned my head slowly to glower at the ass. “Look, it’s nothing. I don’t ask you about you and Lucas.”
“You could.”
“I could but I don’t because it ain’t none of my business. Just like what I do off this ranch ain’t none of yours. You might be the boss when I’m here but when I step foot off Snow Creek property what I do and with who is my business and mine alone.”
He nodded. “Fair. Okay, I’ll let it be. You good to get on a horse?” He rose slowly, tucking his tarts into his back pocket for later I assumed.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Start rehab next week. Be out of your hair in six weeks or thereabout.” I crammed another tart into my face, chewing as I followed him down the ramp to the dewy grass.
“I don’t mind you in my hair.”
I let that sink in while I washed down the last bite of my breakfast. Not that I didn’t know what to say but because I wished his reply didn’t make me feel so squishy.
Getting close would only hurt when I left, which was a concern for me and Aubrey as well but I pushed both worries aside to find me a horse to ride.
Sweat and hard work cleared a man’s mind as the old cowpokes liked to say.
Staying away from Aubrey proved to be stupidly hard.
I lasted a week of physical distance. We texted back and forth all day long though.
He was the chattiest man I had ever met.
He could talk about anything at great length and did.
It was pretty endearing even if our chat thread was wildly unbalanced.
Even texting I tended to be quiet. I was happy to let him ramble on and nod via text.
As I lay in my cot at night, under a lighter blanket that might have been Adobe’s, I could envision me and Aubrey as old married men.
Him talking steadily as we rocked side-by-side on his front porch, him with a book in his hand, me with my poetry journal.
All the while I’d be rocking, writing verse, and saying, “Yes, dear” or “You’re right, dear” like most old married couples do.
And that imagery scared the shit out of me.
Yet, I lingered, and I texted, and I agreed to come to the bookshop for the first poetry reading night.
Yes, I wanted another evening with Aubrey.
I longed to kiss him, cuddle him, and make him as happy as I could.
That also scared me but I still gussied up for the big night.
I combed my hair, pulled on clean clothes, and shined my boots.
The shine didn’t do much for the old Ariat’s but at least the horse manure had been brushed off.
A sharp rap on the door of my trailer as I tucked my lone dress shirt into my jeans startled me. Flinging a glance at my visitor I wasn’t surprised to see my brother and his man gazing in at me.
“Guess I need to start shutting them doors,” I said while I tucked.
“We were going to the Saddle Up for dinner. You want to come?” Jesse asked as he looked me over closely.
Far too closely. He’d been like a bloodhound on the daily trying to sniff out who’d given me that mark on my neck.
He’d come up emptyhanded. I played my romance cards close to the chest. Years of hiding trysts taught you how to keep your mouth closed.
“That money you won off me last night burning a hole in your pocket?” I asked as I settled my hat on my head.
“Kind of. I told Lucas this meal would taste better than most as it was on your dime.” Jesse smirked. Wise-ass kid.
“Dime hell. Those were bills. I’ll never save enough for the entry fees,” I tossed out.
“Maybe that’s my wicked plan,” Jesse sort of playfully replied. Lucas gave his arm a soft tug. “Kidding. I won’t be a burden.”
“You ain’t a burden. Never were.” And there we were, in the same stupid awkward place we seemed to find ourselves more and more.
Both of us too damn pigheaded to say what was truly in our hearts.
That he didn’t want me to go and that I…
well, I was starting to wonder if life on the road was what I wanted at this stage of my life.
Not that I had any other way to make a living.
Most places didn’t hire on numbskulls who hadn’t graduated from high school.
“All kidding aside, I would go but I’m kind of attending this poetry reading at High Noon Reads tonight. ”
That brought a light to my brother’s eyes. “Are you reading your work?”
“Hell no. I got no work to read.” The lie was bitter on my tongue. I did have work. Lots of it, so many that my notebook was half filled. Something—or someone—had inspired me. One more thing that thrilled and terrified me all at once.
“That’s a shame. I know you used to write poems. Dad told me he burned them all. I hated that he did that to you.”
“They were dumb anyway.”
“I doubt it.”
I flattened my lips. What did I say to that?
“Jesse, maybe we should leave Hoyt alone. He has plans,” Lucas whispered, tugging on my nosy brother while smiling indulgently at me. “We’ll head out. Maybe next time you can join us.”
“Sure, yeah, I’d like that. Long as Jesse is paying.” I gave them a wobbly smile.
“Maybe you should be better at poker,” Jesse lobbed back as his man gently led him off into the night.
The sun had just set. The night critters were coming to life: crickets singing, bats leaving their daytime resting places, and the first call of an owl far off in the distance.
Good sounds. Horses nickering as they rested in their stalls, one of the ranch dogs barking.
Much nicer sounds than a packed parking lot or a seedy hotel.
Once they were out of sight I grabbed the pretty stained-glass journal, tucked it under my left arm which was now free from a sling, hallelujah all the angels sang, and made my way to my truck.
I’d skipped dinner. Partly due to nerves about people other than Aubrey hearing my poems, partly because Aubrey had invited me to his place to have a meal after the reading—and more kissing, I hoped—and partly because knowing that Aubrey would be in my arms soon made my gut ticklish.
The ride to Chance was a pleasant one with the window down and Conway Twitty singing about how much he would love to lay someone down.
Me too, Conway, me too. But the person I longed to lay down needed to be completely at ease with being laid down.
Last time he was not so it was a slow and easy road to laying the man down.