Let It Go (29 page)

“Okay, sure. I just don’t want you to drive hell-bent for leather all the way to Dallas for some crazy idea that he’s taunting you into coming after him. I… Just be careful, Eli, don’t drive all the way without stopping. You need sleep. You have two days to get there. Pace yourself and drive—”

“Just shut up, okay? I’m capable. I’ve driven all over the damned country. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re covered in pink paint.”

“I’m gay. Pink suits me.” Eli looked at his outstretched hands that were indeed covered with paint. His hair would have at least one pink swish in it, and he was filthy. There was no way he was going all the way to Texas looking like this. “Damn, I need to shower. And I should put the paint away. And—”

“If you can drag your ass out and help me we can have this finished in an hour and you’ll be out the door before dark. Still plenty of time to get there. Or you could just fly out of Pensacola and be there in the morning.”

“I hate flying.” Eli tugged his shirt off and walked past Randy. “Okay, let’s get this pink fucker finished. Because I’m so sick of smelling paint and I just want this over with.”

“Should I go ahead and hire those painters to get the inside done while you’re gone?” Randy followed him out the door, smirking when Eli had to clean the drying grass off his roller.

“Shit, go ahead. Remind me next time I get a wild hair to remodel to just don’t do it.”

“It'll probably be another twenty years. But sure.”

“Hard to believe this place is only twenty years old. Wish Mom had gotten to live in her dream house for more than a couple of years.” Eli sighed and set about trying not to get more pink paint on his hands than was absolutely necessary.

* * * *

Eli made it to a truck stop in Lafayette, Louisiana by three in the morning. His eyes were dry and he couldn’t stop yawning no matter how high he cranked the air conditioner or how loud he played Metallica. A break. Food. A nap. He needed all the above. After a quick burger and a two-gallon size cup of coffee he leaned his seat back meaning to catch a nap. Instead he watched the truckers come and go in the far back lot. Really he watched a single skinny kid with long hair and punk rock clothes meander from truck to truck. Sometimes disappearing inside. Most often ignored. Once he had a gun shoved in his face. After the fourth time inside a truck the kid meandered his way across the lot passing close enough to catch Eli’s gaze.

The kid stopped and smiled. He tugged a strand of hair between his thumb and forefingers and cocked his hip out suggestively. Unnaturally black hair and ice-blue eyes that didn’t smile with his black-painted lips. Eli shivered. The kid couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen. He shook his head and the kid’s lips pulled into a pretty pout. Had Creed ever done that? Of course he had. Eli remembered that night in Las Vegas. He looked just like that kid except for the lipstick. He remembered other times going back to the first year or two they’d competed, seeing a kid with long brown hair and eyeliner drifting through the motel parking lots Owen chose to park the RV behind. Those nights were the nights Owen would disappear. Eli had always assumed the kid was some girl attached to the crews that stayed at the dive motels.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his heart aching. Creed. He put it all together now. Those nights Owen left him alone long enough for him to sneak off to meet whatever guy he was seeing. Long enough for sex either in the back of a truck or, if they were lucky, in a room. Owen was off screwing Creed. The next time he would see Creed he always had a bruise or cut. Eli leaned his head against the steering wheel. Creed would never have fallen off a goddamned horse; he’d told the same lies Eli did. For the same reason. Owen was pounding on him instead of Eli. It all made sense now. The scars on Eli’s back, everything made sense.

The kid tried again, leaning forward, letting his shirt fall open as he blew Eli a kiss and licked his lips. Eli shook his head again and flicked his hand in a dismissive wave. The kid pouted again but this time he ran off toward the main road and disappeared into the dark. That kid was Creed ten years ago. Whoring himself for kicks or to put food in his belly. Eli wasn’t sleepy anymore. Another five or so hours and he’d be in Dallas. He’d crash then.

He started his truck and headed back to the interstate. The light changed to continue on North East. Eli sat through it looking at the sign that would take him back the way he came.
You can’t save him; he doesn’t want to be saved.

That kid put it all in perspective. Creed knew what he was doing. He’d known all along what he was doing.

His phone gave off a swift, harsh tone and Eli picked it up to check the text. The number was from his old phone. It said one word.
Dallas
.

Everything started in Dallas.

Eli turned onto the North East ramp and cranked up the stereo.

Fitting that it should end there as well.

Chapter 21

The bulk of the animal between his legs startled him. He’d never get used to the girth of one of these monsters. This one—a cream-colored Brahma with sawed-off horns—stood still in the chute. Creed could feel him breathe. He tugged his gloves up and slipped his hand under the ropes and waited while they were tightened. Sly leaned over the fence giving him last-minute instructions, the same as he had for his father all those years. Creed just nodded. He didn’t hear a damned thing.

The animal moved sideways, pushing Creed’s leg into the railing, and then danced back into the center of the tight space. Creed didn’t feel anything. Numb. He was so damned numb. He’d have to be numb to get on top of one of these monsters. What the hell was he thinking?

Money. It was all about money. Everything was about money. And how to make it when you were a high school dropout with no skills. Broncs or bulls. Fuck, he was on a bull. Seemed like a good idea at the time but wasn’t going to be a good enough excuse when he got his skull crushed.

“Creed, goddammit, listen to me, boy.” Creed jerked his head up to meet Sly’s sullen frown. He didn’t hear a word the old man said. He didn’t want to hear how bad of an idea this was anymore. One of the wranglers jumped back off the railing leaving an open space, and for a moment Creed could have sworn he saw a flash of red hair. His heart leaped then plunged into his stomach. Even if Eli did know he was riding bulls he was still under house arrest. Couldn’t possibly be him.

“You ready, boy?” Sly pulled on the rope again and patted his leg. Creed tucked his chin against his chest and lifted his free hand in the air.
It’s just eight fucking seconds. That’s all it is, eight short seconds.
He nodded and then the gate flew open and he was caught in a swirling maelstrom of color and sound. He held the fuck on. With his hand and his legs and then the buzzer went off and he knew it was over except he couldn’t get his hand out.

There was a clown in front of him, another to his side, shouting. A figure with straight red hair on the railing screaming his name. He couldn’t let go. The bull pulled up in a front buck and then down with a back kick. He wanted Creed off and now. He wriggled his hand out of his glove and looked for the nearest clown before he launched himself clear of the bull. Except he didn’t get far enough. Hooves came down beside his head. His new hat didn’t survive. Shouting and running and then hands dragging him up and away. “You okay? Did he getcha?”

“No. No, rope was too tight. I’m good. Oh fuck, did I do it?” The arena continued to spin around him. The bull was over at the far side being wrangled back into a chute. His knees threatened to buckle when he got back to his gate. And it had nothing to do with the ride.

“You did it, Creed. That’ll put you in first for sure.”

Creed didn’t hear a thing the guy said. He didn’t hear anything but blood pounding in his brain. Son of a bitch was hanging over the railing pissed as hell.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eli shouted as Creed cleared the gates. He jumped to the dirt outside the ring and walked with purpose toward him. Creed could always pick Eli out in a crowd even without seeing his hair. Just the way he walked in tight jeans, more of a swagger than a walk. Narrow waist, broad shoulders. He moved like a cowboy was supposed to move. And right now that walk was full of anger.

Eli grabbed him by the vest and shook him. “You are going to get yourself killed. What the hell are you doing here?”

Creed’s head still swam from the double assault of spinning in a ring on a living monster and seeing Eli for the first time in months. And this was not what he imagined from either of those. Eli’s peppermint-scented breath, his angry blazing eyes. Who the hell did he think he was? Creed slammed him in his chest as hard as he could, sending Eli stumbling back into the gate. “Get your hands off me.”

He needed to walk away. He couldn’t face Eli right now. Not like this. Shaky with adrenaline still pumping through his system and months of fear and anger just wasn’t conducive to a productive reunion with the man.

“It wasn’t that long ago that you wanted my hands on you.” Eli spat out the cold, hard words, slamming Creed harder than any fist ever could. He turned back to face him. Too many curious faces watched them. “Or was that a lie? Was everything about us a lie?”
Oh fuck, just shut up, Eli.
Creed could feel the weight of his anger as well as the oppressive interference of a camera. He walked over to the man and grabbed him by his shirt and shook him just as he’d done Creed a couple of minutes ago.

“Shut up, Eli. Just shut up. This isn’t the place for this discussion.” He tried for calm but Eli’s face was that mottled shade of red that said he was beyond reasoning with.

His fist connected with Creed’s jaw. Creed didn’t stagger; he shoved Eli around and pushed him away from the crowd. “The time for this conversation was before you deserted me. Just a fucking note to take care of your horse. I deserved better than that.”

Creed shoved him again. He had to get away from the cameras and the rabid onlookers before Eli outed them both on national television. “Shut up, Eli.”

“Who’s going to make me? You? You’re a damned coward—”

Creed punched him then. Snapped his head back.

“I’m tired of fighting with you, Eli. I’m not your property. You don’t own me.”

“Guess that makes me the only one. Sell yourself for nothing—”

Creed punched him again. He didn’t care who saw what now. This thing with Eli was always headed for something like this. Always.

“That’s why I left. Because you are just like your uncle. Making big plans for me. I’m not yours. I’m my own person. I make my own decisions.”

“Like you paid your daddy all those years even as an adult. You paid me the same way. Just roll over and take it because that’s what whores are good for.”

Creed didn’t stop to think about the cameras or the people surrounding them. He plowed into Eli and would have killed the son of a bitch except two or maybe four strong hands dragged him away. Sly’s voice shouted over them, “Cut this shit out now.” He backhanded Creed, knocking him into stunned silence. “Get up. Get the fuck up now.” Sly hauled Eli to his feet and shoved him deep into the cavernous arena away from the cameras and the fans and the rodeo riders with their oh so curious faces. Creed and Eli were always at each other’s throats. They knew that. Now they knew they were fucking each other. Now they knew.

Creed stumbled along after Sly and Eli. “Damage might not have been done. Maybe no one was listening close enough to figure out that this is a fucking lovers’ spat. Maybe the two of you are stupider than I thought. Just shut up.” Sly found an empty dressing room and tossed Eli inside. “Work it out. Kill each other, whatever works best, I don’t care. Just work it out.” He shoved Creed inside and pulled the door closed.

Eli stood in the middle of the sparsely furnished room, his back to Creed. He reminded him of the bull in the narrow chute. All pent-up anger and energy, and Creed wondered how much it was going to hurt when he was bucked off and trampled to death. He pulled the vest off and dropped it onto the worn-out chair near the door. His knuckles ached from connecting with Eli’s teeth.

He didn’t say anything; he just waited. Eli seemed to deflate after a few minutes; his shoulders slumped as his usually perfect posture deserted him. He reached up and wiped his face. His hand came away bloody. “I think you broke my nose. That old man warned me that you weren’t a pussy. I didn’t believe him. Guess you’re just a cold son of a bitch after all.”

“Eli,” Creed whispered. He didn’t know what to tell him. He didn’t know why he’d left and he sure as hell couldn’t tell Eli in a way Eli would understand. Eli turned to face him. Blood flowed over his lip and he smeared it by wiping at it. “Sit down.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

Creed found a box of tissues on the lighted vanity near the door and grabbed a handful. He refused to let Eli push him away. “Just hold the fuck still, okay?” He mopped at the blood, checking his nose for damage. “It’s not broken. Just bleeding.”

“What do you care?”

Creed sighed and leaned forward, he wasn’t sure what for, to kiss him, or just to lay his head against Eli’s. Eli stepped back, his eyes full of distrust.

“I’m sorry.”

“How much of it was real, just tell me that much. I was just another trick to you, wasn’t I? I gave you food, shelter, money, and you repaid me the only way you know how, is that it?” There was no heat in his words. No anger. Pain. Oh yeah, there was tons of that.

“Maybe, I don’t know. Does it matter now?” Because Creed needed it to matter. He never mattered to anyone before Eli.

“I’m not Owen. I wouldn’t have made you stay with me. Hell, I don’t even want you to stay. I just … wanted to hear it from you. That there’s nothing between us.

It was Creed’s turn to face the wall. He found a cool spot to rest his forehead. “It was just sex, Eli. Incredible sex, but that’s all. You were convenient. The money was good. I thought you expected—”

“It’s all a game with you. Why… So goddamned cold… I was just another man you let screw you. Me, Owen, your own damned father. I don’t understand you, Creed. I don’t. You lie. You are a lie. You told me you loved me because that’s what I wanted to hear.”