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“Welcome home, cowboy.”

Tor smiled at him and took another kiss. “Hey, you.”

Jake closed his eyes and stroked Tor’s back and sides. Man actually felt better than he had only a couple of weeks ago. Sleep and food and a ton of weight off his shoulders.

“Everyone know I’m coming back?” Tor asked, his own hands mapping Jake’s chest.

“Yeah. I told Elias first thing. That sort of took care of telling everyone else.”

Tor chuckled. “Yeah, it would. He didn’t seem upset to see me, which is good. The rest, though…I dunno.”

Jake shrugged. “The rest will deal. No one’s said anything to me. And they all know you’re a good hand, do your job. None of their business where you sleep.”

Tor nodded and kissed him gently. Jake opened his eyes and smiled, taking another.

“Or who I love,” Tor whispered.

Jake swallowed hard. Damn, but the man was going to kill him, just saying shit like that.

“Yeah. Or who we love.”

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Chapter Forty-eight

Things were fine—better than fine—for about three weeks. Jake had known that the tranquility would end, that eventually they’d stop being sappy and letting their sex drive carry them, and he’d been waiting for it. Problem was, when it did happen, he didn’t know what to do about it.

Tor’s return went mostly unremarked upon by the others on the ranch, though both Bobby and Tommy had taken a couple of moments with Jake to make sure things were good before they picked up where they’d left off with Tor. Most of the hands just accepted the dynamic and did their work, though there was some good natured teasing about how Jake wasn’t an utter bastard to work for anymore.

But as the days passed and Jake and Tor settled down and got back into their lives, a subtle tension started making its presence evident in Tor. It wasn’t anything tangible at first, and it only took Jake a day or so to become certain that it wasn’t anger at him or anything like that. It was more a thoughtfulness that would creep over Tor in the evenings, times when he would look into space and his forehead would furrow, his eyes becoming sad.

Jake wondered how he was supposed to handle it. Ignoring it was wrong, not to mention impossible. Asking what was wrong and pressing for answers wasn’t quite right, either.

He didn’t want to push, and more importantly he wanted to show Tor that he knew Tor would handle it in the best way for them both and their relationship. He wanted to show his faith in Tor. In the past he’d just waited stuff like this out, waited and resented. That wasn’t going to happen this time.

But on the third night when Tor started looking out the kitchen window at nothing, Jake bit his lip and waited for Elias to leave the room. He had to say something, even if was only to let Tor know that Jake was aware something was going on. But he wanted to give Tor a chance to figure it out, whatever it was, on his own. They were playing on a new field now, and he had to believe that Tor would let him know, when he was ready.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t let Tor know that he’d noticed, though. That he was paying attention.

Elias finished scraping plates and announced he was going to take a shower; Kirk was already ensconced in front of the TV. Tor reached for the dish soap as Elias left, and Jake stood up, ostensibly to help with the dishes.

“What kind of day did you have?” Tor asked suddenly.

Jake opened his mouth to say his day had been fine, but he paused just long enough for it to click that Tor had phrased the question very specifically. So he thought about it. “Day was okay,” he said finally. “Got stuff done, no real hassles came up.”

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“Want to take a walk after the dishes are done?” Tor asked, looking into the sink. “Ready to talk?”

Jake nodded, his stomach tightening a little. Seemed the honeymoon was over. They did the dishes in near silence, though Jake made a point of not acting stressed or anxious. Tor smiled at him a couple of times, and even kissed him when the dishes were put away.

They weren’t fighting. They were just working at something.

They left the house and wandered for a couple of minutes, Jake letting Tor pick where they were going to end up. At first he thought they were headed toward the orchard, but Tor veered suddenly, making bee-line for the corral.

Tor had his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, his hat low on his forehead, shielding his eyes. Jake listened to the sound their boots made on the hardpack of the lane, feeling every step reverberate through his body; he wondered if the vibrations were what was making his chest feel tight, if the scuff and smack of his boots were making his heartbeat race.

Tor said nothing for too long, looked away too many times, as they approached the fence.

By the time they were there, leaning on the fence and watching the horses, Jake’s anxiety was turning to anger, fed by frustration.

He clamped down on the feeling as tightly as he could, telling himself that this was Tor’s show, that something heavy was weighing on him, and it was just as hard for Tor to talk about it as it was for Jake to listen. Or harder, seeing as how it had taken three days to get to this point.

The insects buzzed about them, the only sound other than the slow clomp of Shelby’s hooves.

Jake turned to look at Tor, to prod him into speaking, but held his peace. Tor’s eyes were locked on a piece of ground about three feet in front of them, his hands clasped together in front of him as he rested his elbows on the fence rail. The despair and self-loathing in his eyes told Jake exactly what they were going to talk about.

He’d sort of thought that once he knew what Tor was thinking about he’d relax a little, the pressure of not knowing gone. But instead, Jake found himself tensing, his mind slamming useless walls up in self–defense. He took a deep breath and splayed his hands out in front of himself, stretching his fingers wide.

Tor cleared his throat. “Thinkin’ we should try to limit this to one topic at a time.”

Jake merely nodded. It wasn’t like either of them had the emotional energy for more than that.

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“And I’m also thinking,” Tor continued, his voice low and smooth, “that there’s not much point in going back over every little fight and talking them all over.” He shook his head quickly. “I mean, I will, if you want me to, but I don’t think I can do—”

“No, you’re right,” Jake interrupted. He glanced at Tor and saw the broad shoulders relax a little. “How about we just start with whatever’s been on your mind for the last few days, and go from there?”

Tor raised an eyebrow and Jake gave him a small grin. “I look at you. A lot. I see things.”

Tor smiled a little, then the haunted look came back and he returned to staring into the dirt. “Started thinking about what you said. About how it all could have been different if you’d said yes when Travis first asked to have sex with us.”

Jake swallowed hard and nodded. He didn’t think Tor even noticed, the man seemed completely focused on just getting the words out.

“Would have been all wrong, anyway,” Tor said. “Remember what you said, about us not playing with guys we worked with? That was only part of it. We never slept with guys who…guys we didn’t both want, or guys who were just looking for something dirty.” Tor shook his head again, sharp and angry. He looked at Jake and said, “I’m not finding the right words.”

“You’re doing fine,” Jake said. He had no idea if Tor was or not, but at least he was talking, at least he was trying to get it out. “Keep going.”

Tor looked at him for a long moment and nodded, once. “Like with Ben?” he said. “That was for you and Ben, and me and Jeff just sort of got carried along. We were all willing, we all wanted—and we all knew it was just what it was. Same thing with the others, even the guy at the bar who just wanted you—he knew that we play together, and it was all in fun. Travis wasn’t like that.”

Tor paused and glanced at Jake, waiting for Jake to nod before continuing. “Thing with Travis was…well, there was a lot with that kid. You didn’t want him, for one, that’s why you gave him a flat no, yeah?”

Jake couldn’t deny the point; Travis hadn’t been his type at all; too young, too open, too forward. And considering Tor was his type he figured that was saying something.

“But you wanted him,” Jake said quietly. “I could have played along—”

“No, that’s just it. Playing was for you and me. Something we did when we both wanted it. Travis—hell, he just wanted to get laid, didn’t matter to him if it was you, or me, or anyone else. He didn’t get it. Didn’t see that us playing with someone else meant anything other than we fucked around. He didn’t care that there was a relationship. It just didn’t register with him.”

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Jake’s stomach tightened and his chest was constricted again. Tor had known, though, and Tor had broken the rules anyway. “So, what happened?” he asked finally, not able to stop himself, and not knowing if he should even bother keeping the question in.

Tor’s jaw worked for a couple of moments and he swallowed hard. “That’s…the rest of what I’ve been thinking on. You sure you want to hear this?”

No. “Yes.”

“Jake—” Tor didn’t sound anymore convinced than Jake felt.

“Look, I don’t want to. But I think you have to say it, and maybe when it’s out it’ll be better.”

Tor gave him a long look, his eyes searching Jake’s face. “Okay.”

They stood looking into the corral, watching Shelby graze, both of them leaning their elbows on the top railing. Jake flexed his fingers again.

“We were out checking the hay, just the two of us,” Tor said quietly, and Jake suddenly knew exactly when it started, to the day. He bit the inside of his lip and stared at Shelby, trying not to react. It hurt to know for sure.

Tor kept talking. “We were having lunch, just sitting in the sun and relaxing for a bit, and he was telling me about some guy sucking him off in a bar—I mean, not like ‘So this guy was going down on me’ but…describing it. And he’s laughing and leaning back, talking about this guy’s mouth and hands and what it felt like, and he’s fucking hard, rubbing his hand over himself in his jeans.” Tor’s breath caught and his hands clenched.

“And I got hard, listening to him, watching him.” Tor shrugged. “Should have been a no harm, no foul, just laugh and get on with the day, put it out of my mind. Except when he reached over and touched me I didn’t stop him. Not when he rubbed me, not when he started telling me what he wanted to do, not when he undid my jeans.” Tor’s voice was rough, almost too low for Jake to hear. “I didn’t stop him when he went down on me.”

Jake didn’t say anything, just looked at their hands; his own, curled into fists, Tor’s white knuckled and twisted together. Jake thought that if Tor stopped now they’d be stuck like this forever.

“He was full of words. Fed me line after line, about how hot I made him, how he wanted me all the time, how he stroked off thinking about me. And I didn’t care about any of it, all I cared about was…was not fighting, about taking what he was offering, and living outside of my myself for twenty minutes.” Tor swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

“Wasn’t ever supposed to happen, Jake. Not then, not again. Every single time, it wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

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Tor’s voice broke, and Jake took a breath, ready to ask something, to say something—even if he had no idea what. But Tor turned to him, froze him in an instant, and said, “I know it means nothing—it can’t—but I never once went to him, Jake, and I said no a few times, promised myself that it was done and I’d never…but I did.

Sometimes I chose to listen to him, chose to let him get to me. Gave him what he was after, got myself an escape for a bit. And I can’t tell you why I did it, ‘cause I don’t rightly know, myself. Never cared about him. Never…felt anything for him.”

Tor looked away again and sighed, sounding older than he’d ever done before, except maybe the day of Maureen’s funeral. “I think you and me were hurting each other, and I wanted to…not to hurt and make it worse at the same time. Punish you, punish myself.

Wanted to believe I could turn a kid’s head and still have a man beside me. Wanted to self destruct and wound up destroying us.”

Jake tried once more to find words and found himself without any. He watched Shelby, listened to Tor breathing beside him, and looked through his head for his reactions. It hurt, of course. He’d known it would, hearing about Tor and Travis couldn’t not hurt. But it wasn’t a knife in his gut, and it wasn’t the deadness of when he’d seen them together.

With a twinge of surprise Jake found that it wasn’t actually as horrible as he’d feared.

Tor had taken advantage of Travis’s offers because he hadn’t been happy with Jake, hadn’t been happy in his own skin. That wasn’t a surprise, that was what they were trying to fix—were fixing.

Jake was still contemplating the situation when Tor interrupted his thoughts, asking, “Can we get past this? Is it too big?”

Jake stretched out his hands again. They’d get past it; they were already back together and he wasn’t letting go. Ever.

“Tor, I forgave you for Travis the day I decided to find you. We’re past it now.”

Or at least close enough that they could move on.

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Chapter Forty-nine

The kitchen was busy, all four of them moving around. Jake put the plates on the table and dodged Kirk, who was enroute with the glasses. “So, ‘Lissa wants to know if we can go for a long weekend in September,” he said to Tor.

“Yeah?” Tor pulled supper from the oven and set it to cool, then side stepped Elias on his way to the calendar. “She say when?”

“Nope.” Jake moved the casserole to the table, and went to the fridge for the salad.

“Elias, the salt and pepper?”

Tor flipped the pages of the wall calendar for a moment and grunted. He sat down at the table, reaching for the serving spoon.

“Look okay, then?” Jake asked, pulling out his chair.

“Yeah, anytime’s fine,” Tor said, his eyes fixed on supper.