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And he knew.

He stared and waited for his heart to start beating again, watched Tor crumple into himself, burying his face in his hand for a moment before setting his hat back further on his head.

"How long?" Jake asked, his voice sounding like it was coming from inside a well.

Tor looked at the ground. "Jake–"

"How fucking long was it going on?" Now there was anger, white heat and noise crashing over him, filling the hollow inside him. Taking over. It hadn't occurred to him that what he'd seen was anything more than a one-time thing.

"Almost two months."

Jake closed his eyes and told his stomach that the apple juice wasn't worth throwing up.

Two months and he'd not had a clue, not a single suspicion. The idea that Tor could hide it that well for so long stung him, cut deeper than just about anything. Or maybe it was the fact that he hadn't been paying enough attention to notice. It really didn't matter; all that mattered was that it underlined just how finished they were, that they'd been done for a long time now and hadn't even known it.

"Jake, it wasn't–"

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"Shut the fuck up. One more word right now and I'll kill you."

Silence, for a long time. Minutes passed and Tor sat next to him, not moving. Jake kept his eyes closed, trying to find something, anything, that had happened which would have clued him in. Any looks, any unexplained time away. Any hesitancy that Tor had had with him. Anything.

Aside from the fights they'd had and the few hours of strain they produced he couldn't remember anything. Not a smell, a taste…nothing.

Jake opened his eyes and looked at River. "Did you fuck him?"

Tor sighed. "Yeah."

"Did he fuck you?"

"Jake–"

"Tell me."

Another pause. "Couple of times, yeah, but–"

Jake stood up and threw the bottle at the next tree, watched Tor flinch when the glass shattered. He moved to River and took his reins in one hand. "I'm going to talk to the Boss." Tor watched him as he mounted the horse and turned River toward home. "We're done, Tor."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Jake."

"Too late for that."

"I know."

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Chapter Thirty-eight

The Boss looked up at him from behind his desk. "Want to tell me why?"

"Not really, no," Jake said, fingering the brim of his hat. "But if he stays I go. I don't care if you let him quit with references or if you fire him and kick him off the ranch. But if he stays, I'll be leaving before sunset."

"I'll need something to tell him. Can't fire a man with no reason, and he's a good hand, Jake." But he would, Jake knew. The man in front of him would do it if he knew why.

"He was sleeping with Tor all summer. I want him gone." It didn't even hurt to say it out loud.

The Boss stared. "I haven't heard anything," he said, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless."

But not surprising. Jake hadn't told anyone why he'd kicked Tor out of the bedroom, and he didn't suppose Tor would have told anyone. Travis might have, but he'd been doing nothing but his job since the dance. It must have been obvious to him, that Jake knew what was going on, and Jake suspected that Tor had probably had a word with him, ending it. No one else would have known–Tor had been very discreet.

The Boss crossed to a filing cabinet and pulled Travis's folder. "What about Tor?" he asked, looking at Jake with a steady gaze. "Want him gone now, too?"

Jake blinked. He hadn't even thought about it. He wanted Tor gone, wanted him away, wanted Tor out of his life and away from the ranch. "Yeah. Both of them."

The Boss pulled Tor's file as well, and Jake's. He sat at the desk and rummaged in a drawer, finally producing a list of the current hands. This he handed to Jake and said,

"You think you can keep things going with the people there? Minus Tor and Travis?"

Jake didn't even look at it. "No. But we can find–"

"Casual labour and day hands. No one like Tor, no one you can count on. We hire two new hands this week and we lose two weeks training them. Now, I know it's slow right now, and we've done it before. But I'd rather not. You say you'll go if Travis stays. Fine, he's gone. But I won't put the extra work on everyone else to get rid of them both, Jake.

Not even for you."

Jake swallowed. He knew the Boss had the right, but it still stung. The man was as near he had as a father, and Jake had never asked him for anything. Except, his mind whispered, a place to live, a job, a second chance at a life that should have ended more
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than fifteen years ago. He owed the man more than a demand to fire people in a fit of revenge. It was Jake's personal life, the Boss's ranch.

Jake straightened his shoulders. "Yes, sir. I understand."

The Boss nodded and laid the three files in a row. "One will go. You tell me which. You, Travis, or Tornado. Personally, I hope you'll stay. You're important here, to the ranch and to me."

Jake tried to smile, he really did. He reached over the desk and picked up the files, knowing Doug was watching him as he went to the cabinet and refiled two of them. He tossed the third back on the Boss's desk and said, "I want him gone, please." Then he left the office.

When he got back to the house Tor was in the kitchen, cutting up tomatoes. Jake was more than ready to keep walking without a word, but as he passed Tor set the knife down and asked, "Am I leaving?"

Jake stopped and leaned on the wall, looking at Tor's back. Stiff and tight, every muscle tense. "No. Travis is."

Tor relaxed a little. "Thank you. Momma needs the money."

Jake nodded. "I know. That's the only reason you're staying. But I'd appreciate it if you started looking for work in a few weeks, after I can hire some more hands."

Tor nodded, then shook his head. "Jake–"

"Fuck, I don't want to hear it. Not right now, not yet, maybe never." Christ, he was tired.

"But I'll tell you this: I'm done hiding. Not going to live in my room for the next few months. Not going to be this…this fucking shell. I won't let you kill me, Tor. You have a problem seeing me, you deal with it. I've got more important things to think about than your guilt."

Tor turned to face him, hands flexing, but his face calm. "Good. Don't want you hiding.

I'll deal with it. But I want you to know I still–"

Jake held up his hand, palm out. "Don't you dare fucking say it now. I don't want to hear it from you. You didn't say it before, and I refuse to let you say it to me like this."

He thought Tor might say it anyway, his eyes were screaming it, but he finally nodded and turned away, back to cutting tomatoes.

~*~*~

"What is this?" Jake asked from the easy chair. He'd been spending so many nights in his room, and Tor had too, that Kirk and Elias had developed new TV watching habits. The 224

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usual schedule seemed to have changed to include a series of cop shows Jake had never seen before.

"Umm…one of the forensic shows," Kirk said. "You wanna watch something else?"

Kirk and Elias were sitting on the couch, tense. It was the first night both Tor and Jake had stayed around after supper and they seemed to be waiting for an explosion, ready to make concessions to avoid whatever it was they thought would happen.

"No, this is fine," Jake said. "Just wondered."

The four of them watched in silence until the end of the program, then Elias stretched and tentatively said, "The new guy seems okay. Learns fast, anyway."

Jake nodded. "He should. Been working ranches for about ten years–he knows what to do."

Tor didn't say anything, simply nodded. Kirk looked from Tor to Jake and back again, his mouth twitching like he wanted to ask something. He settled into the couch instead, and Jake felt a wave of relief. He had no idea what Kirk had been planning to ask, but he was just as glad Kirk didn't. Jake's only goal for the evening was to make it through the news without saying or doing something he'd regret.

After the news was done Tor stood up and said goodnight to them all, walking out of the room. Elias followed, and Kirk raised an eyebrow, asking, "You staying up, or should I turn off the TV?"

Jake considered it, but decided he'd best try to get some sleep. His stomach was in a knot, and although he didn't think he'd be sick again, he knew that if he stayed up he'd just stare at the walls in the living room instead of the bedroom.

"No, I'm going to bed, too," he said. "Turn it off."

Kirk hit the button the remote and reached for the switch on the lamp as Jake stood up.

They made their way down the hall in the dark, and just as Kirk opened his bedroom door he said, "Thank you. For…trying to make things normal again."

Jake stopped and turned to look at him. "Ain't gonna be normal again. But you're welcome, anyway."

~*~*~

Jake stumbled out of his bedroom, trying to button his shirt over the white t–shirt he'd grabbed in his rush. He'd managed to oversleep, which on one hand was not a bad thing–at least he was sleeping–but he was still late and not very awake. He'd skipped his shower in favour of chasing down coffee, and was trying to remember if he'd left his coat on the porch or in the closet when he went into the kitchen.

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"Coffee?" Tor asked, pouring a mug already.

"Yeah, thanks. Damn alarm didn't go off." He accepted the mug and burned his mouth with the first swallow. "Ow. Fuck."

"It did, you know," Tor said, filling his own mug. "And the snooze went off twice."

Jake blinked. "Really?" He didn't remember that at all. "Why didn't you bang on the door?"

Tor looked uncomfortable. "Wasn't sure you'd thank me for waking you, and the other two were already gone–Elias is on early feeding and Kirk's always up earlier to go for a run."

Oh. Jake put the mug on the table and rebuttoned his shirt, considering it. He probably would have reacted in a less than polite way if Tor had been the one to tell him to shift his ass. "Sorry. And thanks for the coffee."

"No problem, there's more if you need it." Tor looked at him critically. "You might want to put your t–shirt on right side out before you go to work, though."

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Chapter Thirty-nine

Jake had spent a lot of time thinking about himself when he was first on the ranch; he sometimes thought that he fully grew up between the ages of twenty–two and twenty–three, learning all the important life lessons he should have gotten in his teens, and some he should have been taught as a youngster.

He learned to work, and to be responsible. He learned about money, how to earn it, save it, and spend it wisely. Self control was learned by staying sober, discipline was learned by continued early mornings and hard work. He learned about respect by acting respectably and keeping his promises to Doug Gillian, and by noting that Doug earned respect the same way.

But while he was learning all of those things he was learning about himself, too; about what made him feel good, about what kept him in balance. Being outside. Working with the animals and working his muscles. Rhythm and routine. The seeds of it had been planted in prison, the careful order to every day, each one identical, and he'd been able to adapt it to a larger framework. His own rhythms moved with the seasons, the work that had to be done, the timing of his day.

Then there had been Tor, and a new routine had been added to his life. For four years he went to bed at the same time, but there was someone there with him, someone to touch.

Four years of doing things together, riding, fucking, watching TV, reading. Playing with Lego. Talking to Susie and Becky on the phone, and later 'Lissa, Jacob and Cath. Fitting together and making their rhythm.

Then it had changed and for a month there was nothing but the walls of this room and the monotony of not thinking.

Jake found it oddly easy to establish new routines after he came out of his room, adapting to the TV schedule and sitting on the chair instead of sprawling on the couch with Tor.

He cautiously tested the waters over a few days, seeing how they were going to fit together as co–workers living in the same house, but as men who had every expectation of hating each other if there was a misstep.

He found the idea of hating Tor as unappealing as any other he tried on. He no longer trusted Tor, probably still loved him, but he wasn't about to fill his life with rage again. It hadn't worked when he was seventeen, and he didn't want to try making it work at damn near forty.

It took a few weeks for the edges to wear on the rhythm, for it not to cut in when he sat in the easy chair and not on the couch. He got up in the morning, showered, ate and went to work. He and Tor were at least able to be civil, and the closer it got to Halloween he began to notice that their exchanges, while strictly about work, were starting to be more
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natural, less stilted. In the evenings the four of them ate at the table, they all took their turns with the cooking and washing up, and then moved to the living room.

Elias had been watching warily, probably waiting for the fall out of living with two volatile men who had obviously hurt each other in a myriad of ways. It showed in his eyes, the way he took longer to relax in the evenings, the times he went to bed early. Jake wasn't looking forward to the conversation he knew was coming when the man followed him into the kitchen one evening, just before the news.

"So. Things are settling?" Elias asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Seem to be," Jake said with a shrug.

"There's not going to be any more shouting? No more fights and extremely loud make up sex?"

Jake stared at him, his hand freezing on the fridge door. Anger started to push up, but he pushed back hard and took a breath. "Been two months. Think if that was going to happen it would have by now."

Elias nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

"You got something to say, say it," Jake said, refusing to look at Tor as he came in from the living room.