Jack shot her a grin, then wandered off toward the riverbank, whistling as he went.
Riley sighed. “He’s the worst and also kind of the best.”
Ethan watched Jack’s silhouette disappear against the afterglow of the sky. “He’s a walking disaster.”
The three of them sat a while longer, watching the fire eat its way through the logs, flames hollowing them from within.
“So, what happens now?” Riley asked.
Ethan thought about it. The truth was, he had no idea. “I guess we wait. I don’t know.”
Harper shrugged. “You’ve done all you can. Be proud of that. Tomorrow is another day.”
Riley reached over, hugged Ethan with one arm. “We’ll get through it. Promise. And remember that I am proud of you.”
For a while they just watched the stars. The sky was so thick with them it looked like you could dip a hand in and scoop out a fistful.
A footfall interrupted them—heavier, slower. Cole, back from wherever he’d run to. His face was blank. He walked past the fire without looking at anyone and zipped himself into his tent.
Ethan’s heart lurched. But this time, the fear wasn’t for himself. It was for Cole—what the man might be doing to himself, alone in there, locked up with nothing but a lifetime of shame for company.
The fire burned lower, the logs collapsing into glowing charcoal. Harper yawned and called it a night, retreating to her own tent. Riley followed, giving Ethan’s arm one last squeeze before he left.
Ethan stayed behind, staring at the embers. He thought of Cole, how close they’d come to something real and how quickly it had all slipped away. He tried to tell himself that it was over, that he should just let go, but the longing wouldn’t leave.
Still, under the ache, there was something new—something wild and bright and invincible. He wasn’t hiding anymore. He’d crossed the line and survived, and there was a sweetness in that, a heat that lingered even as the night grew cold.
He closed his eyes, let the smell of smoke and wildflowers fill him, and waited for the morning.
He hoped that Cole would find his own version of the same peace. And if not—if this really was the end—Ethan decided that he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
He was happy, and for once, that was enough.
Chapter 19 - Cole
Cole woke to the sound of his own teeth grinding. The sky was black except for the glow at the horizon. He lay still, waiting for the riot in his chest to quiet, but it only got worse as the tent’s walls pressed closer with each heartbeat.
When he peeled back the zipper, the outside air hit like a slap.
It should have felt like victory. He’d survived another night with the ghosts of his failures, had even managed to hold them at bay for a few hours of dark, stuttering sleep.
He could still feel the pure pleasure of Ethan’s warm, wet, tight throat around his throbbing hard cock.
He stepped onto the frost-kissed ground, the icy air biting at his skin. Cole’s hands shook as he rolled his tent. He almost thought about what he’d done yesterday—what he’d become—and he wasn’t sure he could stomach it so he buried the thought as soon as it arrived.
The horses were clustered together, shaggy and half-asleep, noses white from the hard freeze.
He heard a tent zipper behind him. A glance—out of habit, before he could stop himself. Ethan. Of course.
Ethan stood hunched in the predawn, face red from the cold, eyes bruised with a sleeplessness that matched Cole’s own. He moved in a tight, self-conscious rhythm, avoiding Cole’s gaze as he reached for his boots. Cole looked away immediately. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he let himself watch. He wasn’t sure if he could survive it.
Another zipper rang out, “Morning,” Riley said.
Ethan greeted Riley with a soft, sleepy, “Good morning.”
Cole nodded. “Morning” He kept his face still, his voice tighter than usual.
He was aware, at the edge of his vision, of the way Ethan’s hands moved. Quick. Neat. They reminded him of the way they’d looked last night, wrapping around his cock, steady and full of purpose. He bit down on the memory, ground it into powder, and focused on tying a figure eight in the horse line.
