Chapter 13
Logan
I look through the window at the clouds gathering outside.
“Might be raining,” I say to Brisket as I brush his mane. He’s a brown Quarter horse with black legs and a thick mane of the same color, and while technically he’s nothing special, he’s athletic, friendly, and mine.
It’s been a week since Kyle’s wedding fiasco, and I was relieved when Kayla told me the wedding ended up being called off.
I didn’t stick around to find out because the potential marriage failure hit too close to home.
I felt it was better to stay away and let the events unfold however Kyle chose.
Don’t get me wrong, I do love some drama when I’m not personally involved, but despite me making peace with Kayla, weddings are no longer my jam.
All I know is that Madison became a buzzing hornet in white, and that Kyle’s mother told everyone that he wasn’t ready for marriage.
Considering they’d both cheated on the day of the ceremony, it was for the better that their relationship ended before any vows were exchanged.
Though judging by how pressed Madison was to change her marital status, I wouldn’t be surprised if she marries the photographer by this time next year.
As for me, I’m good, if a little tired. Do I sometimes think about Mr. Ass of the Year?
Sure, but it’s not like I’m looking to get involved with anyone, and he seemed all too eager for something way more serious than I’d be willing to commit to.
I just hope he’ll find himself some nice rancher to fuck his brains out and maybe even sometimes think back fondly to his first time in the hay and the man who saved him from the biggest mistake of his life.
Brisket pushes his muzzle at the pocket where I keep treats for him. There’s a carrot wedged there now, and if I don’t pull away, he’s gonna serve himself by pulling on the green leaves attached to it. I push at his head and turn my hips so the carrot is out of his reach.
“Come on, that’s your reward for being good!
I suppose I should have left it out of the stall, shouldn’t I?
” I ask, and my horse shakes his head, annoyed about being denied.
I roll my eyes and finish the brushing before handing him the vegetable.
It’s torn out of my hand so fast I can sense the impatience behind it.
Funnily enough, it reminds me of Kyle and how eager he was for my dick.
The guy was a first-timer, yet couldn’t get enough.
I can only hope some selfish prick doesn’t break his heart too soon, because it’s bound to happen at some point.
Kyle was far too open, and I don’t just mean his legs.
He served me his heart on a platter alongside that delicious steak.
I glance out of Brisket’s stall, down the long aisle running down the middle of the Springton stable’s main building.
I love the picturesque countryside surrounding the grounds, and I’m glad I still get to ride and work in a business related to horses so far away from home.
But since my brief visit in Texas, entering the stables no longer brings me the pure sense of calm I’m used to.
The scent of hay and the horses keeps taking me back to that first tumble with Kyle, and as dumb as that might be, I would have loved to introduce him to Brisket.
All good things come to an end though, whether it’s through cheating or plain old loss of interest. In our case, the biggest issue is the distance, but realistically, I don’t want a baby gay to get any ideas by giving him too much of my attention.
That wouldn’t have changed if I still lived in Texas.
I hear voices in the distance. Carol, our receptionist, rarely visits the stables in the middle of the day, so I assume she’s walking the grounds with a potential customer and think nothing of it until my brain registers the smooth, masculine voice as familiar.
I freeze with the brush still in my hand before leaning toward the passage between stalls.
My blood freezes at the sight of the familiar figure in jeans and a brown leather jacket, and I pull back as if the air were electrified.
What?
What is he doing here? Where I work at that? Is he on some kind of revenge spree? Well, I’m not letting him have the upper hand, so he won’t get to confront me until I’m ready.
I dash for the ladder leading to the mezzanine level, because it’s used for storage, and if I remain quiet, it’ll be the perfect place to hear what they’re saying without being spotted.
“He should be here somewhere,” Carol says, getting far too close for my liking.
I can’t fucking believe this dude. What possessed him to seek me out?
So maybe it was an assholish move on my part to just leave him with the photos, but who’d fault me for not wanting to be part of the unfolding wedding drama?
At least knowing that his bride was also cheating, he could make an informed decision, so the way I see it, I did him a favor!
“Logan?” Kyle calls out, and I can’t climb the ladder fast enough. My stall is behind a solid wooden wall, but if they spot me, I’ll be forced to—
The ladder staggers to the side as I reach the upper half of its length, and I realize I should have made sure it was stable enough before climbing it.
I attempt to save myself by shifting my body the other way while reaching up to the edge of the mezzanine floor, but the structure’s already way out of balance and I descend alongside it.
The world flips on its head, and as the side of the ladder hits something solid, I fall to the hard floor like fruit shaken off the branch.
I can’t help the yelp that spills out of my mouth, but when the pain in my ankle hits me, I don’t even care about Kyle’s presence anymore.
A sense of numbness pools in my leg, making my brain feel like mush, but when I sit up to assess the damage, the twisted position of my right foot tells me that something is terribly, terribly wrong.
Even Brisket is alarmed and begins to stomp in his stall, making noise as if he were trying to call for help. But the help already rushing my way in quick steps is just an addition to this fresh hell.
“Oh shit, Logan!” Carol shrieks, but it’s Kyle who kneels beside me and who’s squeezing my shoulder.
“Oh damn, that does not look so good.”
My whole being is screaming ‘What are you doing here?!’, but I have to focus on breathing, because my heart rate is speeding up whenever I look at my leg.
“I didn’t check the l-ladder,” I utter, surprised by how hard it is to gather my thoughts. It’s a kind of out-of-body experience where my brain seems to know what to say, but my teeth want to chatter rather than move in a way that aids speech.
I’m not a coward though and I meet Kyle’s eyes, hoping my gaze is stormy, not pathetic, because the latter is how I feel right now, with my ankle twisted out of place.
His eyes radiate sympathy, and as he places his hand on my numb ankle, I don’t have the words to yell at him. “It’s swelling real fast.”
Carol swears and grabs the bun on her head, growing pale. “Don’t you move. Gonna get Hassan,” she mutters before running off to get the guy serving as our first aid officer.
I have to focus on something other than the throbbing in my ankle or I’ll go mad, so Kyle becomes my target as soon as Carol is out of earshot.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I rasp and have to close my eyes for a moment because a fresh wave of pain hits me. I can’t believe I’m stuck here, unable to stand my ground in front of him. It’s so damn pathetic.
Kyle isn’t deterred by my question and rubs my back, as if he only cares about helping me in a moment of distress. His doe eyes stare at me with all the compassion in the world, but I want to get away from him and never face him again.
“I knew the town where you live, and you said you worked in stables, so I figured I could find you like this, because you forgot to give me your number,” he explains and lifts my leg to relieve some of the pressure in my unnaturally twisted ankle.
‘Forgot’. On purpose. Is he this clueless or being sarcastic?
“Fuck!” I have to exhale to keep from screaming out, and I grab his arm despite wanting him to leave.
“You can’t just show up where I work out of the blue,” I say through clenched teeth.
What is this? A modern version of Misery?
Will he take me to some cabin where he can ride my dick every day while keeping me chained to the bed?
The vision only makes me think of his round ass, and I guess that’s some respite for my overzealous nervous system.
Kyle licks his lips and strokes my thigh in a calming gesture. “I know, but I couldn’t ask anyone from your side of the family for your number. This is the third place I’ve been to in the area already, but I’ve told them I’m just looking for an old classmate. It’s all good.”
It wasn’t ‘all good’. It wasn’t good at all.
I stare into his big brown eyes, so honest on his wholesomely handsome face and I realize he has no idea what he’s doing.
“I need to… go,” I mutter, dizzy, but when I try to get up, using him as leverage, he holds me down.
“No, no, Logan, you can’t move this leg,” he says.
I’m out of breath and overheating. Sweat makes my T-shirt cling to my back, but when I stare at Brisket, he just snorts. No help coming from him.
“Logan! Don’t move!” Hassan yells from afar, running our way with a first aid kit. He might have a bit of a pot belly and gray hair in his beard, but right now he’s sprinting like a cheetah.
Fuck my life.
Scooting next to me, Hassan lets out a clicking sound as he rolls up the leg of my jeans. His face twists into a scowl.
“I saw it happen. The ladder just fell, hit the balustrade, and he fell on this leg,” Kyle says, petting my back as if he were my best friend attempting to comfort me. I would be way more comfortable if he wasn’t here.
Hassan shakes his head. “We need to remove your boot.”
It does feel tight around my flesh, but when Hassan tugs, pain explodes all over me, and before I know what’s going on, I’m resting on Kyle, and he’s hugging me.
“It’s okay, we’ll get you to a doctor.”
“I’m fine!” I say even though what I mean is ‘I don’t need your help’, because my leg is obviously and definitely the opposite of fine.
Hassan scowls at me, pressing on my swollen ankle. “I think it’s broken, Logan. Let’s get you to the hospital. Are you here by car…?”
“I'm Kyle. Yes, yes, I’ve got a car, I’ll take him,” he says as if I have no say in the matter.
As much as I hate being the object of this conversation instead of a participant, my ankle hurts like a bitch, and I’m not about to sit here and pretend I can drive myself.
I look down, and see that my ankle seems to have swelled to twice its size over a foot that should be pointing in a different direction.
Nausea grips my throat, and Hassan snaps his fingers in front of my face.
“Don’t look at it. Come on, we’ll get you into the car,” he says and pushes his shoulder under one of my arms while Kyle does the same on the other side.
My world spins as they lift me, and while I attempt to help them by jumping on my good leg, it’s obvious that if it wasn’t for them, I’d still be crying out in pain on the floor.
I’m the kind of guy who helps others in need, not the other way around, but the lapse of judgment has left me vulnerable to the very man I tried to run from.
I hate it, but I have to admit that while Kyle is smaller than me, he is strong, and his grip feels solid.
On the other side, Hassan is panting with effort while Kyle holds my weight with ease, making me feel secure.
The dusty ground passes under me as I sweat into my clothes, gripping to the here and now, because I desperately need to remain conscious, but when I hear loud, snappy sounds, I fear I might be losing it.
When we approach a dark blue car, and I spot the colorful face of Kyle’s dog in its half-open window the source of the barking becomes obvious.
“Okay, let’s get you in,” Kyle says and opens the door.
“Talk to him, make sure he’s distracted,” Hassan advises, and I fear Kyle will have no trouble with that.