“Of course it does. I ain’t sayin’ that it doesn’t. But don’t you ever get tired of all the waitin’ and sneakin’ about? Prayin’ that nobody’ll figure out what’s going on or ask why you come backhereof all places?” Patrick left the stall. “Cuz I do. And I’m tired of feelin’ like my heart’s bein’ ripped right outta my chest every spring. It kills me every single time I watch you get on that bus. And it may be selfish of me, but it guts me to my fuckin’ core that I can’t have you all to myself.”
“Baby, why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Patrick could hear Nash’s heart breakin’ in two. “Cuz you ain’t like me, darlin’,” he said softly, starin’ into those honey browneyes. “You’ve got the world in the palm of your hand, and all I’ve got is you.”
“All I’ve wanted these past four years is you, Baby. Nothin’ else.” Nash’s voice sounded so very small, the smallest Patrick had ever heard someone sound. “I would dropeverythingin a heartbeat just to have you. I never did cuz I thought that I was holdin’ out for nothin’. That I would get down here one year and it wouldn’t be you standin’ at the bus stop.”
Patrick straightened Nash’s ratty cowboy hat then placed a cold hand on his warm cheek. “Darlin’, it was only ever gonna be me at that bus stop.”
Nash cupped Patrick’s face and kissed him. Nash didn’t taste like Pall Mall Reds or bad decisions, but toothpaste, the lingerin’ hint of burnt coffee, andforever. God, Patrick prayed they would have forever. No more countin’ down the days 'til goodbye. No more summers spent hurtin’ and longin’ for frozen fingers and wind-chapped cheeks. Patrick didn’t care what it took to get forever, even if it meant givin’ up the only place he’d ever called home. He’d give it all up to keep Nash.
Nash went to pull away, but Patrick gave chase, a fragilenotumblin’ from his lips before he could stop it. Nash didn’t say anything if he heard, but their lips found each other again, and hands drifted further down. Patrick lost himself in the feelin’ of Nash’s mouth against his, the sound of their combined heavy breathing, the feel of desperate hands tuggin’ at the layers he wore to protect against the unforgivin’ cold. His back made contact with the stall door, rattlin’ the hinges. Patrick was too focused on Nash to care, pullin’ him closer and pressin’ against him, feelin’ his warmth seep into his bones.
Nash pulled away from the kiss, flushed and pantin’, lips red and wet. His eyes held nothin’ but desire and what looked a lot like the wordsI love you. Patrick’s heart skipped in his chest,those same words dancin’ on the tip of his tongue, beggin’ to be said—to be heard.
“I need you,” Patrick whispered, wishin’ he was brave enough to say what he really meant.
“Say it,” Nash said, voice raw and tremblin’. “Please, Baby, I can’t keep goin’ like this without hearin’ it.”
Patrick swallowed, pulse poundin’ in his ears. “I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you, Nash Colby. I love you so damn much it makes me fuckin’ sick when you leave, and I can’t stand not bein’ with you. I don’t wanna spend my life only seein’ you six months a year; it ain’t enough. Not for me.”
The only sounds were Patrick’s own heart and the harsh, howlin’ winds outside as he stared into Nash’s glossy eyes. Nash’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he sniffed. A watery smile spread across his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that.”
“I’ve got a feelin’.” Patrick dared to crack a joke, prayin’ it would ease the tightness in his chest. “You gonna say it back?”
Nash let out a small, breathless laugh. “Baby, I ain’t never loved anybody the way I love you. Not a single fuckin’ person has ever made me feel this way, and then I saw you and suddenly I was so wrapped up in you, I damn near forgot my own name. God.” He laughed then sniffled again, swipin’ at his eyes with the back of his hands. “Ain’t this so romantic? Me snottin’ in the fuckin’ horse barn while sayin’ how much I love you?”
Patrick brushed his thumb over Nash’s stubbled face. “Most romantic thing we’ve done in this barn.”
Nash’s laugh came from the gut, big and bold andbeautifuljust like he was. Patrick couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as Nash pulled him in close and held him ‘round the waist. Nash, eyes closed, placed his forehead to Patrick’s,and saidI love youso softly Patrick almost thought he was dreamin’.
“What did I do to deserve someone like you?” Nash asked, nudgin’ their noses together.
“Not much”—Patrick smiled when he heard Nash scoff—“but you’re just somethin’ irresistible, Nash Colby.”
13
Nobody told Patrick how hard it was gonna be to tell his folks. Nobody prepped him on how to tell his mama that she wasn’t gonna get any grandbabies or how to confront his old man about the fact he was in love with another man. Patrick knew he’d have to tell them at some point, knew that day was always right around the corner. He’d dreaded it for the past four years, but he couldn’t hide any more. Couldn’t come up with any more clever lies about why he wasn’t datin’ anyone or keep pretendin’ like he was just unlucky in that department. If he wanted to live his life with Nash—and he did, more than anything—he was gonna have to tell ‘em.
Patrick’s folks lived closer to town than the ranch, givin’ him plenty of time to get his head on straight. He thought about the years he spent travelin’ back and forth between the ranch and home, all the time he spent ridin’ shotgun with his old man—the stories told, the laughs shared. Life was a whole lot simpler back then. Patrick tried to pinpoint when things gotmore difficult, when the laughter died down and distance grew between them. Sure, things weren’tawful, but he could feel that their relationship wasn’t the same as it used to be. He wasn’t the same as he used to be either, so he supposed it made sense that things changed.
Patrick pulled into his folk’s driveway then took a steadying breath. There wasn’t anything to be scared of. He was grown—he didn’t need their approval or blessin’, but even so, he prayed for the best. Patrick left the safety of the truck, swallowin’ down his fleeing heart—it stuck in his throat all the way to the door. He knocked then took off his hat as he waited, whiteknucklin’ the brim. The door swung open, revealin’ his mama, silver hair piled high on top of her head and glasses sittin’ on the tip of her nose.
“Well what a surprise,” his mama said, puttin’ a hand on her hip. “I wasn’t expectin’ to see you 'til spring.”
“I, um”—he wrung the brim of his hat and looked down at his squared toe boots—“I needed to talk to you and Pa ‘bout somethin’.”
“Is everything okay? Are you okay? Did somethin’ happen?”
“I’m fine, Mama, slow down. Let’s, uh, let’s go inside and sit for a minute.”
His mama led the way into the living room where Patrick’s father sat. At the sight of Patrick, his old man muted the tv and sat up straight. “Everything alright?”
“Relax, Beau, everything’s fine,” his mama said, wavin’ her hand dismissively as she sat down. “Go ahead, honey, what did you wanna tell us?”
