Reyes woke to Mack’s ringtone blasting from his phone. Miles was plastered across his back, so Reyes fumbled in the general direction of the noise, snaring it from the pocket of his jeans on the floor. He barely noted that it was just after six in the morning which racketed up his anxiety tenfold as he took the call.
“Mack?”
All he heard on the other end was indiscernible sobbing, and Reyes’s heart fell to the floor. Next to him, Miles was coming awake, but Reyes stared at his jeans, his insides filling with dread. “Mack, what’s happened?”
He braced for the worst, and Miles squeezed his shoulder.
“He woke up,” Mack said in a rusty voice. “Arthur woke up.”
“Holy shit.” Reyes sat up straight. “Arthur woke up,” he said for Miles’s benefit.
Miles’s mouth fell open, and he clutched at Reyes’s arm, so Reyes set the call to speaker.
“He woke up about an hour ago, and the doctors have been doing tests,” Mack continued. “He’s aware, no obvious brain damage from being without oxygen. It’s a fucking miracle.”
Reyes wrapped his free arm around Miles and drew him in for a sideways hug, overjoyed at the news and the obvious excitement from Mack, despite the tears.
Tears of fucking joy.
“That’s amazing news,” Miles said. “I’m so glad for you guys. And for Arthur.”
“Same,” Reyes added. “I’m happy for you, brother.” And he was. So fucking happy. Mack got his grandfather back, and Clean Slate got its owner back.
“It’s not like he’s in perfect health,” Mack said. “He’ll have to do in-patient cardiac rehab for a few weeks, so he can adjust to life post-trauma, and then he’ll need a brand-new lifestyle. Another heart attack like this one will probably kill him, and I think he realizes it now.”
“No more red meat.”
“Among other things.”
“Does this mean he’ll be moved out of ICU soon?” Miles asked.
“Later today, he’ll go to the cardiac unit,” Mack replied. “I’m just so fucking relieved this nightmare is almost over.”
“I bet,” Reyes said. “You want me to spread the word?”
“I already called Judson, and Wes is calling Patrice right now, but if you want to tell the others, I won’t fight you. I feel like I haven’t slept in a month.”
“Then go home. Now that Arthur is out of the woods, you and Wes need to go home and get some real rest. I mean it, man.”
“I know, and we will. Thank you.”
“Take care and give Arthur a kiss for me.”
Mack chuckled. “Later, guys.”
Reyes hung up, then tackled Miles to the bed with a hoot of laughter. Smothered him in a hug that was all tangled limbs and positive feelings. “That call really happened, right?”
“Yeah, it did.” Miles dropped kisses all over his face. “Now get dressed and go tell Colt. He’ll probably kiss you, too, for delivering the news.”
“He might. Jealous?”
“Nope. I also have no idea if Avery stayed over like he did Monday night, so be prepared to shield your eyes.”
Reyes snorted. “I’ve seen Colt naked, nothing will shock me.”
“What?” Miles tried to sit up. “I need that story.”
“Nope, not today.” He pressed a happy kiss to Miles’s lips. “Be back soon, I promise.”
Miles snared his hand before he could get out of bed. “How are you this morning?”
For an instant, Reyes thought that was a dumb question considering Arthur’s new—then he realized Miles was referring to last night. “I’m amazing. A little tender, but I have zero regrets. You?”
“No regrets.”
Reyes grinned, then slid out of bed and into his discarded jeans. For once, he got to be the bearer of great news, and he didn’t want to wait. He slipped into his boots, and then left for the cabin next door. No one ever locked their doors—that he was aware of, anyway—so Reyes knocked hard several times before barging inside.
Colt was rolling out of bed, hair askew, eyes a bit wild. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, for once.” Reyes stopped halfway to his friend and grinned. “Arthur is awake and there doesn’t seem to be any brain damage.”
“He’s...what?” Colt blinked hard several times. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.” Reyes made a delighted sound he’d never admit might have been a giggle, and then described his phone call with Mack. Colt whooped, then lifted Reyes off the floor in a big bear hug. Reyes wiped his eyes as Colt set him down, his own joy trying to squeeze out in small, unwanted tears.
“Mack must be over the moon,” Colt said.
“He is. And he’s exhausted. I ordered him and Wes to go home and sleep, but Lord knows when he’ll actually do it.”
“Mack loves that old man to bits. He won’t go home until he’s absolutely sure Arthur is okay.” Colt wandered to the coffee maker by his mini fridge and started putting grounds into a filter. “You want some?”
“Nah, I’ve got a ranch full of people to share the good news with.” Reyes noticed a pattern of very faint bruises on Colt’s back, and his mind jumped to Miles’s comment about Avery staying over. At least Avery had been around to give Colt the comfort he needed the other night. He was glad both his friends had strong partners to support them.
Now I have one, too.
Reyes really needed to stop living in this fantasy where he and Miles had a perfect future waiting for them. He needed to tell Miles about Miguel...but he simply didn’t want to. It would break Miles wide open, and Reyes simply wasn’t ready to lose him.
Just a little while longer.
After sharing another joyful hug with Colt, Reyes went about the business of knocking on cabin doors, wanting to give this good news in person instead of a group text. Everyone, even the hands who’d been recently hired, looked up to Arthur as a father figure because Arthur treated all his employees like family. Reyes delighted in being the bearer of good news.
Once the ranch was taken care of, he called down to the horse rescue so the two women in charge could trickle down the news to their people. The news would make it to town soon enough. Reyes returned to his cabin and Miles, who was still in Reyes’s bed, waiting for him. They shared their happiness with mutual blow jobs, before it was time to get up for the workday.
“I’m supposed to do the overnight camping trip with Robin tonight,” Reyes said while he did his weekly shave. Miles was in the shower, so Reyes spoke up loud enough to be heard over the rushing water. “I can swap, though, if you want me to.”
“Nah, I’m good. Arthur is awake, and Dallas can’t legally come on the property. Do the trip.”
“Okay.” Reyes tamped down on a small wave of disappointment—mostly because he liked sharing his bed with Miles, cramped though they were, and he didn’t like the idea of camping out without him. “Want to come with?”
“I would, but Shawn will murder me if I leave him to do all the new prep tomorrow morning alone. Don’t worry, I’ll keep myself entertained.”
Reyes smiled at his own reflection. “I know you will. You and me need to do another private campout soon.”
Miles peeked out from behind the shower curtain, his dark hair flat from the water, which ran down his cheeks in rivulets. “Count on it.” He winked, then ducked back inside to finish washing.
Horse riding in the wilderness and willingly going on camping trips. For such a city boy, Miles was definitely becoming a country mouse. Albeit a country mouse with a spine of steel and an incredible strength of will. Those things had always been inside of Miles, buried deeply under emotional distress, and Reyes was privileged to have helped Miles unearth them. To help Miles on his journey toward becoming a strong, equal partner for whoever came next.
Because men who’d done the things Reyes had done didn’t deserve happily-ever-afters—but he’d take his happily-for-now for as long as possible and make memories that would have to sustain him long into the future.
A future with or without Miles in his life.
* * *
Reyes spent the entire camping trip thinking about Miles: his smile, his curly hair, the way he walked with confidence now. Everything about him, and it didn’t stop when the group returned to the ranch Thursday at lunch. Reyes shot off a text to Miles before heading into the kitchen for a sandwich.
Missed you. Can’t wait to see you tonight.
Miles replied about ten minutes later. Missed you too. Gotta go, tho. Shawn feeling bad, so I’m sending him home after the lunch rush is over. Bye, my heart.
Reyes texted back that he hoped Shawn felt better soon.
The rest of the afternoon passed at a snail’s pace, and then he was finally walking to the cabin with two plates of food from the kitchen. Miles came in at six thirty on the dot with a paper bag in one hand, and a huge grin on his face. Reyes stood, curious, especially when Miles flung himself into Reyes’s arms with a squeal.
“Okay, something happened today,” Reyes said. Miles seemed to vibrate in his arms like an excited puppy.
“Something did.” Miles pulled back, his green eyes shining. “Dallas was arrested for violating the no-contact order.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Cybercrimes connected him to those private messages. The lead detective called me less than an hour ago with the news.”
“That’s the best news I’ve had in ages.” Reyes kissed him hard, overjoyed to know that Miles’s tormentor was finally off the streets and in a jail cell where he belonged. “What does that mean, though? What will happen to Dallas?”
“There will be a hearing, obviously, but he could get up to a year in jail, depending on what the judge decides. And that doesn’t even include the filming me without consent thing, which is its own charge. I don’t remember all the big words the detective used, but Dallas will finally be punished.”
“Yeah, he will. Did the detective find the full video?”
Miles shook his head. “Not that he mentioned, but he’s still looking for the other guy in it, too. I just... He’s in jail. Finally.”
Reyes cupped the back of Miles’s neck and tousled the thick curls of hair at his nape. “Yes, he is. I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself, Miles. So fucking proud.”
“Thank you. I’m proud of me, too. I know I’ll have to see him again in court, but I’m not afraid of him anymore. The bogeyman is gone.”
Grateful for those words, Reyes tucked Miles close to his chest and simply breathed in his boyfriend. Cologne, sweat, grease, and sugar, and all of it wonderful. Unique to his man. Eventually, whatever was in the paper bag got cold and wet and soaked through Reyes’s shirt. Miles pulled out two bottles of sarsaparilla.
“To celebrate,” Miles said. “I didn’t have anything alcoholic, and if I asked to borrow from Wes, he’d want to know why, and I needed to tell you the news first.”
Reyes took the offered drink and twisted off the cap, honored that Miles had chosen him first, when Wes had witnessed the Dallas drama firsthand, too. “Then let’s celebrate. To a monster being behind bars where he belongs, and to you slaying the dragon with your own two hands.”
“To me.” Miles laughed, then clinked the neck of his bottle to Reyes’s. “And to our Dallas-free future.”
“Hear, hear.”
After they ate, by silent agreement they shed clothes and slipped into Miles’s bed to make love. They took turns worshipping each other’s bodies. Miles spent long minutes exploring his tattoos, kissing his scars, and making Reyes feel treasured and adored with every brush of lips or touch of fingertips. Reyes turned the tables and found every erogenous zone he could and drove Miles nuts—navel, the back of his left shoulder, his neck, the crease where hip met leg, even the soles of his feet.
They both came, and they stayed hard as they kept playing. Kept loving each other. Eventually, Miles reached for a condom and lube, and Reyes played more while he prepped his boyfriend. When he finally pushed inside, Miles released a soft, content sigh that sent ripples of love and protectiveness across Reyes’s skin.
Mine.
* * *
Miles kept eye contact as much as possible while Reyes moved inside him, fueled by the love and desire in Reyes’s dark eyes. The naked passion on his face and the silent claim Reyes had tattooed onto Miles’s skin with his lips and tongue. Two nights ago, Reyes had asked Miles to physically claim him in the most intimate way possible.
I want that, too.
He squeezed Reyes’s hips, until he stopped moving, eyes asking a silent question. “I want you to take off the condom,” Miles said, surprised at how wrecked his voice was.
Reyes simply peered down at him, a new kind of lust etching across his face. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes. I want this with you. When I’m with you, I feel whole and wonderful and clean. Please, my heart.”
Reyes shuddered, then slowly withdrew. Peeled off the rubber and dumped it to the floor. He squeezed out more lube, and when he nudged his way back inside, Miles released a long, relieved sigh.
This. This was right. Naked, with no more barriers between them. Exactly as they were always meant to be. And when Reyes came inside him, Miles nearly sobbed with the force of his love and joy. Reyes pushed two fingers in deep to keep his release there while he sucked Miles off.
Every orgasm with Reyes was a gift, but this one was a revelation. It was everything Miles had always wanted with a partner, everything he’d ever needed. And he’d found it with a big, beautiful, scarred fireman-turned-cowboy. A cowboy who’d seen through the walls Miles had built around his bruised heart and coaxed him back out with patience and love.
As they lay together, soaking in the afterglow, Miles traced small hearts on Reyes’s chest with a single fingertip. Tattooing his love and gratitude into Reyes’s skin the only way he could, while they kissed and touched and existed in this perfect moment for as long as humanly possible.
* * *
The next afternoon, Reyes was in his office doing paperwork—why hadn’t Mack warned him how much damned paperwork came with being head cowboy?—when Robin knocked and stuck his head in the door.
“What’s up?” Reyes asked.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Robin replied. “Says his name is Julio Santiago.”
The world dropped out from beneath Reyes’s feet. Less than twenty-four hours after the most beautiful night of his life, his past had come crashing down on top of him, ready to destroy it all. He went cold all over and the English language escaped him for a moment, his thoughts racing out in Spanish.
“Dude, you okay?” Robin took two steps inside. “Do you know this guy?”
It took several tries for Reyes to kick-start his brain again. “Not personally.”
“You want me to tell him you’re busy? You look like you’re about to blow chunks.”
“No, I, uh...” The last thing in the world Reyes wanted to do was confront Julio Santiago, but Julio deserved to have his say. Reyes owed him that and more. “No, he can come in.”
Robin didn’t seem convinced this was a good idea, but he left. Long, agonizing moments later, he returned with a tall, hulking figure behind him. Robin disappeared again, leaving a remnant of Reyes’s past filling the doorway.
He hadn’t seen Julio since the trial, where Julio was sentenced to twenty years for second-degree murder. The judge had no sympathy for the extenuating circumstances around the murder, and Julio had only been given a public defender, because his family couldn’t afford a decent lawyer. Julio had been nineteen and skinny back then. Now he was nearly forty, bulked up, tatted up, and he had several scars on his face. A crook in his nose. And a scary intensity that made Reyes regret not asking Robin to stay.
Reyes stood from his desk chair. “Julio.”
“You were the only one,” Julio said in a gruff voice. “The only one Miguel didn’t name in his suicide note. Why?”
“I don’t know.” Reyes’s stomach boiled over with acid as his worst mistake roared back into his carefully constructed present, ready to blow it all to pieces. He didn’t know for certain why Miguel hadn’t named him, but he could guess. “How long have you been out?”
“Six months. Took me a while to track you down, plus I had daily meets with my parole officer for the first three months. Had to get a job and all that shit. Prove I changed.”
Reyes scanned the guy’s clothes, searching for any telltale bulges, because he had no idea if Julio was here to exact another bout of revenge on his baby brother’s behalf, or simply to beat the shit out of him.
“You scared, Reyes?” Julio asked. “Scared I came here to kill you, too?”
“Yes.” Lying had never served him well in the past. “I have no idea why you’re here.”
“To look you in the eye and call you out for what you did to my brother, cabron.”
Reyes held Julio’s gaze, his insides shaky. He could defend himself, if necessary, but he didn’t know or trust this man. “I didn’t touch your brother that night.”
“But you didn’t stop it, either. You stood there and watched.”
“Yes. I was a sixteen-year-old idiot. And I was a coward, afraid if I tried to stop it, I’d take Miguel’s place.”
Fury flashed in Julio’s eyes. “You don’t get to say his name.”
“I’m sorry.” Reyes had been sorry every single day for the last twenty years of his life. Sick and undeserving of love for what he’d chosen not to do that night. Until Miles made him believe in love again, and in forgiveness. But there was no forgiving this.
“Fuck you’re sorry. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Then what do you want me to say?” Reyes asked. “I’ve never forgiven myself for what happened to your brother, or to you. That judge gave you a shitty deal, and I’m sorry for that.”
Julio tilted his head a few degrees. “You ain’t mad I killed your boy?”
“No. I jumped out of the gang a week after Miguel died. I didn’t want that life anymore. I was done ruining lives. Tried to be a better person.”
“You became a fireman and got another kid killed.”
Reyes flinched. “Yes, I did.”
“And now you live on a ranch that likes queer people. How fucking ironic is that?”
“Pretty ironic, considering I’m in a relationship with a man.”
Julio’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah, sure you are. Your boyfriend know what you and your pals did to my brother?”
“No.”
“Guess that makes you some kind of coward, huh? At least I can say one thing for myself, and it’s that I’m no fucking coward. I faced the shit I did, and I paid for it.”
Reyes steeled his spine, but Julio was right. He was a coward. He’d come to terms with Luke’s death in that warehouse, but he’d never told anyone about Miguel—not even Mack. He’d hidden that horrible secret from everyone he loved and who loved him back. “I am a coward.” Reyes came out from behind the desk and stood an arm’s reach from Julio. “I was a coward then, and I’m a coward now.”
Julio sneered at him. “You want some kind of fucking medal for admitting it?”
“No. Just telling you the truth. I was a coward that night, and it destroyed your life. I own that. I can’t change anything now, all I can do is own what I did.”
“You want to own it? Start by admitting what you did. You tell this so-called boyfriend what you did. Tell any friends you might have. Let them judge you the way I was judged by my friends and family.”
Reyes swallowed hard against the rush of acid in his stomach. “I will. And I do have a boyfriend. He’s amazing and kind, and I never wanted to break his heart with this secret, but you’re right. I need to own what I did, even if I lose him.”
Julio grunted, as if surprised Reyes had agreed so quickly. Maybe he’d looked forward to beating Reyes into submission, maybe bruising him in a way that Reyes couldn’t explain except through more lies.
“You do that,” Julio said. “I’ve said what I came here to say. Maybe you didn’t touch Miguel that night, but you didn’t help him. You helped kill my brother, and you can rot in hell.” He rattled off a few more choice words in Spanish, before turning to leave. “Oh, wait, one more thing.”
Reyes saw the fist coming at his face, but he didn’t duck or try to protect himself. Bright, hot pain flared in the side of his mouth, and he crashed backward into his desk. Blood filled his mouth and dribbled down his chin. By the time Reyes got his senses back, Julio was gone.
“Jesus!” Robin squatted in front of him, alarm all over his face. “Did that guy hit you? Want me to call the sheriff?”
“No.” He spat a wad of blood to the floor, glad it was hard earth and easy to clean. “No, trust me, I deserved it.”
Robin scowled, then reached for the box of tissues on the desk. Gave a few wadded ones to Reyes, who gently pressed it against his cut lip. “Honestly can’t say as I believe you’d ever say something to someone to make them hit you.”
“I did some pretty shitty things when I was a teenager. Ran with a bad crowd. We hurt someone Julio loved, so yeah, I deserved it.”
“You need help up?”
“No, but do you mind fetching me some ice? Don’t want this to swell too bad and scare the guests.”
Robin rolled his eyes at the forced joke, then left. Reyes used the desk to stand, his shoulder a little sore from crashing into it. No matter what he did to hide it, proof of Julio’s visit would be right there on Reyes’s face. He had no choice but to tell Miles the truth tonight. No choice but to accept how Miles reacted to this final admission.
The truth that Reyes had watched his “friends” bully and torment fifteen-year-old Miguel Santiago for being queer. He’d watched them kidnap Miguel one night, and—sixteen and terrified he might be queer, too—Reyes had watched while they abused him for hours on end. And he’d said and done nothing. Not then, and not three days later, when Miguel committed suicide because of what they’d done.
“I’m so sorry, Miguel,” Reyes whispered to the empty office. “So sorry.”
The office didn’t answer back, but so much was said in its silence. No forgiveness. No reprieve. Only one inevitable outcome.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Miles.” Grief bubbled up inside him, positive he was about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him, and unsure if he’d survive the loss intact.