Chapter 3

WILLY WENT right to his bedroom and closed the door. His mother had been in the kitchen, and he was grateful she’d been busy and hadn’t heard him come in. His dad was occupied, so Willy had walked right home alone, thinking of the sheriff the entire way. The man made his heart beat faster just being near him, and his hands had grown so sweaty that he’d had to wipe them on his pants a few times. The sheriff in their town was gay. Willy smiled at the thought of how his dad would react to that, especially since it seemed Sheriff Barnett wasn’t beholden to him or the powers that be in the town. That would frost his dad’s butt to no end.

“Sweetheart,” his mother said, sticking her head in the room a half hour later. “Where is your father?”

“He’s ministering to the mayor. Clay and Jamie were arrested and are in jail.”

She gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. “That’s terrible. The poor boys.”

“They were racing on their bikes and ran someone off the road. They could have hurt people.” There was no love lost between Willy and Jamie. Clay was a nice enough guy when he wasn’t around his brother. But Jamie was a bully of the highest order, and he could either talk or threaten his brother into just about anything. The two of them together were terror on wheels. “They’re getting what’s coming to them.”

His brother, Ezekiel, raced into the room around his mom, leaped up, and bounced on the bed. “I losed a tooth,” he said, showing Willy his altered smile and holding up the tooth. “What do I do with it?”

“I’ll take it, sweetheart,” his mother said, and Ezekiel handed it over.

“I didn’t cry at all, Willy.” He bounced once again and flopped down next to him. Willy reached around, grabbed his brother, and pulled him onto his lap, tickling him until he squirmed and giggled up a storm.

“Dinner is almost ready,” his mom said before leaving.

“Are you hungry?” Willy asked, lifting Ezekiel up into the air, to more squeals. “It’s time to eat. You need to wash your hands.”

Ezekiel raced to the bathroom as soon as Willy set him down. He rarely walked anywhere. Ezekiel had one speed—run—and he was always happy and full of excitement. Willy wished he could be more like him.

“Ruthie,” Ezekiel whined at the bathroom door. “I was here first!” He turned to Willy, who scooped him up again. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Ruthie was thirteen and had decided that she was some sort of princess and that everyone needed to get in line behind her. Willy had heard his dad talk about it, and he didn’t think that was going to last much longer. His dad didn’t stand for that sort of thing.

The bathroom door opened, and his sister tried to look innocent.

“You need to be nicer,” Willy told her, and Ezekiel stuck his tongue out at her. “That’s not really nice,” Willy scolded Ezekiel gently.

“But she’s mean to me.” He crossed his arms over his chest just like Willy had seen Reggie do more than once now.

“She’s just being a little selfish.” Willy set Ezekiel down, and he ran inside to wash his hands. Willy did the same, and after they dried off, he guided the others to the table.

Their father came in the back door. He silently greeted their mother and then sat down. The three kids took their places, and as soon as they were seated, his father folded his hands and offered a prayer. Then and only then did they pass the food, with every dish starting with their dad. It was an old ritual, and Willy had never thought anything of it until he’d been to school and seen how other kids acted.

“Is everything all right?” his mother asked.

All three of the children ate and remained silent unless spoken to at the table, including Ezekiel, though it was hard for him sometimes.

“It will be.” His father looked up from his plate. “The new sheriff is a bit of a quandary. I think he’s a good man at heart, but he’s lost his path to the Lord. He says he isn’t interested in the church, and that worries me. This entire community needs someone who will set a good example.”

Willy bit his lip and took a bite of mashed potatoes. He knew his father meant someone he could push around the way he did everyone else. “He seems to know what he’s doing, and you always said how the previous sheriff worried you with his lax ways,” Willy said.

His father nodded. “I’m thinking we need to try harder.”

“Or simply realize that not everyone feels the same way you do about everything.” Willy knew he was inviting his father’s displeasure, which came in the form of pursed lips and a glare. Willy returned his gaze to his plate, and once again thought about getting a job and a place of his own. He was twenty-two. It was time he stopped living at home and made his own way in life. More than once he’d thought of getting on a bus and simply leaving for San Francisco.

He finished eating and asked to be excused, then took his plate to the kitchen as soon as his father nodded. Willy went outside to sit on the front steps. There was a chill in the mountain air, so he went back inside, got a sweatshirt, and told his mother he was going for a walk. He needed to get out of the house and have a chance to think. Willy left before his father could get curious, and turned toward town as soon as he reached the sidewalk.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Willy really didn’t care where he went as long as it was away from home for a while. He kept his head down as he tried to figure out what to do. Willy knew he was never going to measure up to what his father wanted from him.

Just before he reached the main street, a vehicle pulled up next to him, the window lowering. “Hey. You okay?” Sheriff Barnett asked from inside the white SUV.

“Sure. I guess,” Willy answered with an exaggerated shrug. “Just thinking.” A light mist collected on everything, and Willy pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt in an effort to keep warmer. “Just out for a walk to get some fresh air.”

“There’s a real storm coming. You should get home. We’re expecting a few inches of rain tonight. Would you like me to give you a ride?”

The lock clicked, and Willy climbed inside, closed the door, and raised the window. “Thanks.” Rain suddenly came down heavily. He sat still, watching the drops spatter on the windshield and then the wipers wash them away, only to have the pattern start again.

“You want to talk about it?” Reggie asked, pulling back out onto the road.

“Nothing to talk about. I’m stuck for now until I can get out of here. I need to get a job and then maybe a place of my own.” Willy sighed. “This town….”

“It’s a good place,” Reggie said, glancing at him.

“No. It’s a prison, and my dad is the warden.” It was the first time he had ever talked about family business with anyone. His mom and dad, him, Ruthie, Ezekiel—they all put on this perfect face for the rest of the world. His parents were particularly good at it. “He decides everything that happens at home, and now he wants to decide the rest of my life for me. He signed me up to go to divinity school so I could help minister to his congregation.” Willy yanked at the seat belt as the car suddenly felt too confining. He had to get out… now.

As soon as the car had pulled over, Willy stumbled out to the side of the road, ignoring the rain as he lost his dinner, stomach rebelling against him. He straightened up, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and spat to get some of the taste out of his mouth.

Reggie patted his back and then helped him into the car. “Do you want me to take you—”

“Anywhere but home. I can’t go back there.” Willy sighed as Reggie closed the door. He fastened the seat belt once more, and Reggie got in the car and started the engine. Without saying anything more, he drove. Willy didn’t know where, but that hardly mattered as long as it wasn’t back to that house.

“Where are we?” Willy asked ten minutes later when they pulled into the drive of a low log home surrounded by straight pines.

“This is my home,” Reggie said. “It used to be my uncle Harry’s. He died a few years ago and left it to me. I used to come to Sierra Pines when I was a kid to visit for a week or so in the summer. I came up here on vacation after he died, so when I was offered the job in town, I took it and moved here permanently.” He pulled to a stop, and Willy got out. The rain had stopped, at least for a little while, and Willy looked at the porch, which filled in the front between the two wings.

“It’s beautiful.” He continued taking it in as Reggie unlocked the door and switched on the lights.

“Come inside,” Reggie said as the rain started again.

Willy hurried up on the porch and then into the house. The inside was even more spectacular, with log walls everywhere, pine ceilings, and a huge stone fireplace from floor to vaulted ceiling. Heavy, masculine leather furniture with a few throws filled the room, and a huge painting of the mountains hung over the fireplace. Willy wasn’t sure where to look first.

“Uncle Harry built it himself. It took him almost five years to get everything done, but it was all him, and it shows in every detail.” Reggie took off his coat and offered to take Willy’s to the laundry room to dry.

“Thanks.”

“You’d better call your mom and dad to let them know where you are. They’ll be worried, and they’ll probably look for you.”

Willy knew that was true. Heaven forbid he should have a few hours away from them, out from under his father’s thumb. The other day when he’d gone to Sacramento, he’d had to say he was vising friends down there from school, and even then his dad had balked at giving him permission to go. He was twenty-two, and his dad still had to approve everything he did. It sucked. But he pulled out his phone and sent his dad a text saying he was at a friend’s and was fine. He eventually got a response when his dad phoned, and after evading his dad’s questions about where he was, he ended the call. It felt good to be free for a little while.

“Is your stomach settled?” Reggie brought him a glass of soda and motioned to the sofa.

Willy took the offered seat. “It will. I’m not hungry or anything.” His cheeks heated from behind the glass as he sipped. Reggie had seen him throw up because he didn’t want to be at home. How embarrassing could he get?

“I’ll bring some crackers. It will help get the taste out.” Reggie fussed in the kitchen and brought in a dish of butter crackers, setting it on the coffee table before sitting in the nearest huge leather chair.

Willy nibbled one and sipped the soda. They stared at each other, and Willy wasn’t sure what he should say. “I’m sorry,” he said as Reggie opened his mouth.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do. I dumped a whole bunch of family stuff on you, and my dad would have a cow if he knew. He’s all about us setting an example, and we’re supposed to be this model family. In church, Mom plays the organ and teaches Sunday school. Now I teach it as well. Whenever Dad wants to talk about virtue, he makes us all come forward and stand with him.” Willy set his glass down. He’d been gripping it so tightly that he was afraid he was going to break it.

“Does he yell?”

“Dad? Never. I have never heard him raise his voice ever.” Willy stood and turned around, raising his shirt. “Dad prefers the belt. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child.’”

Reggie gasped, and Willy knew he was seeing the scars.

“What in the hell?” Reggie asked as Willy turned back around.

“A year ago, Ezekiel was playing with the neighbor boy. Apparently they disagreed over something and Ezekiel said the F-word at the kid. He ran home and told his mom, who called my dad. Dad had gotten the belt to punish Ezekiel. I told my dad no, that if he hit Ezekiel, I’d call the child abuse hotline. Dad’s eyes got black and he turned on me. I was sore for days. I was lucky there wasn’t too much bleeding, but it hurt to move.”

“What about your mom?”

“She does what he says.” Willy closed his eyes and did his best to settle his stomach. “He’s never hit Ezekiel and Ruthie. I told him he could beat me, but if he ever hit either of the kids, I would make sure he paid for it. That’s when he got even more watchful. The worst thing on earth is someone who can think for themselves.”

“Has he hit you since?”

“No. The last sheriff was in my dad’s pocket, but I thought I’d call the state police and report it. At least someone other than that idiot would know. He’s never touched me again. Like all bullies, he can’t take people standing up to him.” Not that there was anything he could do about what had happened now. The only thing that made him happy was that his brother and sister wouldn’t be hit the way he had. At least he’d managed that.

“I’m sorry. I wish I’d been here….”

“It doesn’t matter. No one can stand up to my father. Everyone in town thinks he’s perfect, and they all come to him for guidance. If I told anyone else what happened, they wouldn’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” Reggie said. “And you tell me if he abuses you or anyone in his care. I will take action.” He set his glass on the table. “No one is above the law. Not the mayor or his kids. I know they’ve pretty much terrorized the town, but that ends now. And from what I’ve heard, it isn’t likely the mayor will be returning to office.”

“That’s good,” Willy said. “He needs to go. Maybe next time they’ll vote someone in who isn’t tied to my dad.”

“You really hate him,” Reggie commented. It wasn’t even a question.

“I didn’t always. He used to be a good man, caring. He preached the good parts of the Bible, love thy neighbor. And then my brother Isaac, he was a year younger than me, was killed by a drunk driver. Dad had loaned him the car, and the guy ran him off the road coming down the mountain. The car flew off the road and ended up hundreds of feet below. There was nothing left of him or the car. After that, I think Dad figured he must have done something wrong to deserve that kind of punishment.” Willy wiped his eyes. “Mom and Dad used to be happy before then. I remember them laughing, and we went on outings, like a normal family. Since then I can’t remember my father really smiling.” Willy closed his eyes and tried to clear his head.

“That can change a person. I’ve known people who drank and turned to drugs—anything to dull the pain. It sounds like your dad turned to the Bible and managed to turn the pain inward and onto itself.” Reggie grabbed his glass and emptied it. “I’m really sorry about your brother.”

“No one ever talks about him at home.” Willy suddenly found he needed to. “Father packed away most of his things, and no one talks about him. Ruthie asks about him sometimes, but only when Mom and Dad aren’t around. Ezekiel is young enough that he barely remembers him at all.”

Reggie got up and crossed to sit next to him on the sofa. “I see a lot of tragedies in my job. At least I used to. I came here to try to prevent them as much as possible.” Reggie slid his fingers across Willy’s, sending a shock through him that Willy didn’t fully understand. “What was Isaac like?”

Willy chuckled, drawing an image of his brother to mind. “He was the wild child of all of us, though not nearly as wild as Clay and Jamie. He liked to have fun and didn’t listen to our father. He used to sneak out of his room at night and go down to the diner a few blocks away. He didn’t do bad things—I think he just wanted his freedom.” Willy could certainly understand that. “Isaac loved cars and worked on them all the time. He kept the old family car running for a full year before it completely gave out. He was gifted that way.” Willy sighed. “I miss him a lot.”

Willy closed his eyes and wished he was back in his room alone so he could bury his face in his pillow and cry. He’d thought of Isaac less and less over time, and guilt raised its ugly head. With his parents never talking about Isaac, it was up to him to try to keep the memory of his brother alive.

Reggie put an arm around him and tugged him closer. “It’s okay.”

Willy shook his head and pulled away.

Reggie took his arm back. “There is nothing wrong with hurting over someone you lost, and there is no weakness in being comforted.”

Willy leaned closer and put his arms around Reggie’s middle. He wasn’t sure what it would feel like to hold another guy, but as he held tighter and Reggie’s arm cradled his shoulders, he relaxed and closed his eyes once again, burying his face in Reggie’s shirt. He was determined not to cry, but he didn’t move an inch in case Reggie changed his mind. Willy tried to remember the last time he’d been held for comfort and warmth… and couldn’t. He hugged Ruthie and Ezekiel as much as he could, wanting them to know closeness and gentleness rather than the cool distance that was their parents.

He lifted his gaze upward. Reggie’s deep, darkened eyes met his in return. Warm fingers touched under his chin, holding him still, ripples of heat running through him. For a second he thought he might have a fever. Then Reggie slowly moved closer.

The first touch of another man’s lips to his felt like coming home. Willy hadn’t known what it would be like, but it felt wonderful. Reggie’s lips were hot, and smoother and softer than he’d expected.

The kiss didn’t last long. Willy blinked, pleased that Reggie stayed close, continuing to hold him. This was what he’d been hoping for that night in Sacramento. He wanted more but wasn’t sure how to ask for it. Heck, he wasn’t even sure what it was he wanted.

“That was nice,” Willy said, just because he thought he had to say something. It was the truth, but his words seemed so inadequate. Ever since he’d figured out that he was different than most other people, he’d dreamed what it would be like to kiss another man. Willy had thought more along the lines of the physical, and the kisses in his imagination had been closer to those he got from his aunts because that was all he had to compare with. This was nothing like that. It sent chills and fire running through him at the same time.

Reggie kissed him again, and the same thing happened, only this time the kiss was deeper. Willy felt it all the way to his toes, his legs extending and his back becoming rigid, excitement coursing through him. Willy wound his arms around Reggie’s neck, holding him close because he never wanted this to end.

The heat that traveled between them set Willy’s world on fire, burning away the person he thought he was. This was someone different, someone who had kissed another man and knew he wanted to do it again and again for the rest of his life. When they parted, Reggie released him, and Willy sat back on the sofa, breathing deeply, blinking, wondering how he was going to deal with the changed reality of his life.

It was just a kiss. And maybe that was true. But to Willy, it was more than that. It was assurance that what he’d thought was real and not some fantasy. He’d had a taste of what he really wanted.

“You okay? You look a little dazed,” Reggie asked, and Willy nodded absently. So many of the things his father had always said about gay people were complete shit. He could see that now. Things about them being deviants and rapists, which was only a bunch of shit to scare people into believing the same narrow-minded things that he did.

“Yeah.” Willy smiled. “I’m fine, more than fine. I think I’m good… for the first time in a long while.” It felt like the sun had come out from behind the clouds after a long rainstorm.

Maybe things would be all right after all.

A crack of thunder split the air. That kind of storm was rare up here, and Willy jumped, not used to hearing it. They got plenty of rain and snow in the winter, but thunder didn’t happen often, and that meant the storm was intensifying. Willy sat back as rain pelted the windows. “This place is solid as anything ever built.” Reggie gathered him close once again. “Nothing to worry about.”

Willy wasn’t worried, really. Reggie was strong and protective.

After a while, the storm abated, and Reggie got up, made a snack, and brought it in. “I don’t have a great deal in the house right now.” He’d grabbed some meat and cheese to have with the crackers. Willy’s appetite had returned, and he ate carefully, then yawned.

“I should probably go home.” Though the prospect was hardly something he looked forward to. But a few hours of freedom would have to hold him for now.

Just then the wind rattled the windows, and Reggie checked his phone. “If we lose power, I’m going to have to go see what’s wrong and what I can do to protect the repair crews.”

“You have to go out in this?” Mountain storms could come on fast and the wind could whip through the canyons with hurricane force.

“I hope not.” Reggie stood, and Willy did the same. “Let me show you the guest room. No one should be out in this who doesn’t have to be.” Reggie led him down a hallway and opened the door to a bedroom with the same log walls and furniture with frames made of branches. “My uncle made a lot of the furniture himself as well. He loved using materials he gathered himself.” Reggie pointed out the bathroom and then left Willy alone, closing the door.

Willy sat on the edge of the bed, listening as Reggie returned to the living room. He cracked the door and the clink of dishes reached his ears. Then Reggie approached, switching lights off.

Willy went into the bathroom to clean up. He got ready for bed and settled under the covers as Reggie moved in other areas of the house. Willy wondered what it would be like to have Reggie in bed with him, the huge, strong man lying next to him, holding him close. He tried not to imagine what sex would be like with him. Basically he had so little experience, his fantasies were mundane and repetitious. He needed to get some new material and maybe some new experiences to go along with it.

A soft knock pulled Willy out of his thoughts. “Willy?”

“Yes,” he answered gently, his body instantly on edge, excitement coursing through him as he wondered what Reggie wanted. What would he do if Reggie came in the room? God, Willy was too scared of his own damn shadow. Reggie was a good guy. He’d backed off at the club, and he’d certainly make sure Willy was taken care of.

“If you need anything, my room is at the end of the hall.”

“Okay,” Willy answered, and then Reggie was gone and he was alone, yet so close to what he thought he wanted. The thing was, he had no idea how to go about getting it. Maybe if he asked…? No, Reggie had already backed away from him once.