Long Tall Drink (13 page)

“Yeah, dude,” Clay agreed.

With a sigh, Jesse went back to his breakfast, and Dot leveled a knowing look at Ray. He nodded his understanding. They’d all need to watch out for Jesse—and keep Travis in check—until Sam got over it and moved on.

Ray took his time leaving the house, and when he did make his way out, he found Travis working with a new horse. Fortunately nothing was broken, but Travis wasn’t getting anywhere with the animal.

“Why don’t you call it a day, Travis,” Ray called over after a couple of hours. “Looks like you could use a break.”

“Nope. Need to work.” Travis didn’t turn around. His voice was flat and emotionless.

Ray watched the man for a few minutes, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Obviously the situation with Jesse was bothering him. But it bothered Ray too. Not to the point of vigilante violence, but still, Travis wasn’t the only one pissed off. The whole ranch was pissed. Jesse was like a kid brother, and the first reaction he’d had was the same as Travis’s, though Ray wasn’t so quick to action.

And then an unwelcome thought skimmed over the surface of Ray’s mind. What if Jesse and Travis were more than just friends? Anger and jealousy rose in the back of his throat, and he quickly swallowed the sharp bitterness back. No, he would not let himself be jealous over a temporary hand, a rambling cowboy. He had no reason. Jesse was just one of those bright, shiny lights in the sky that people instinctively wanted to make sure never dimmed.

“Why don’t you stick around the house after dinner and have a beer with us then,” Ray offered.

“Sure.”

Ray watched Travis surreptitiously as the three men sat in the living room nursing their beers after dinner. Ray and Jesse were sitting at opposite ends of the large leather couch, and Travis sat on one of the oversize chairs near the front window.

“Dot got you all settled?” Ray asked Jesse, breaking the silence that had fallen after Dot had bid them good night.

Jesse nodded, plucking at the label of his Wild Fly Ale.

“I’m really sorry about this, Ray. Travis.” Jesse kept his attention on the label-peeling task as he spoke. “I didn’t tell him the truth. Not really. But I did tell him I wouldn’t stop working at the ranch. I wouldn’t stop being friends with Travis. That’s when he hit me”—he paused, then added quietly—“the first time.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ray saw Travis flinch; noticed how tightly he gripped the beer bottle in his hand. If that bottle had been fine crystal, it would have shattered by now.

“I told him I was going to move onto the ranch. Stay with Clay. He went off that I’d been brainwashed by Travis and if I messed with people like him, I’d end up just as twisted. Said he didn’t want a ‘fucking faggot’ son.”

Jesse paused, and they both glanced over at Travis. His whole body had begun to vibrate, his mouth was pressed in a hard slash, his lips white, and his nostrils flared. He’d yet to say anything, and his gaze was fixed on the throw rug on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“And I started getting mad,” Jesse continued, drawing Ray’s attention back. “Told him being gay wasn’t catching and what’d he care so much for anyway. Didn’t affect him any. He started going off again, saying stupid ugly shit, and I yelled at him to shut up. Told him I was twisted long before I met Travis. That’s when he hit me again.”

Jesse looked to Ray with fear in his eyes, clearly wanting to say something even though he was terrified to do so. Silently imploring for understanding at what he was about to share. And Ray suddenly knew what was coming. His stomach turned.
Oh shit, no
. How could he have not known?

Jesse squared his shoulders, faced Ray dead-on, and spilled his deepest secret in a rapid rush. “I am, Ray. Gay, I mean. And I hope that won’t change you letting me work and live here.”

Shame needled its way under Ray’s skin. All this time the boy had been working for him and living with a man like Sam, his own father. He knew the kind of fear Jesse lived with, how alone he’d have felt all this time. He thought he knew his men, but clearly he’d failed the one he should have known best. If he’d known, he could have somehow found a way to make it easier for the young man. At least let him know he wasn’t alone if he needed someone to talk to, a shoulder to lean on.

Ray dragged a hand over his face and in a cracked voice said, “I am so sorry, Jesse.”

Jesse nodded and quickly looked down at his hands but not before Ray caught the liquid flash of disappointment and hurt in the boy’s eyes.
Fuck.

“No, Jesse.” Ray reached out and laid a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, to help you. But believe me, I understand. More than you know.”

Jesse’s gaze shot up, wary but hopeful. Ray couldn’t find it in him to say it out loud, so he nodded intently. Jesse swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, and then his clear blue eyes shone brightly at Ray, so bright Ray couldn’t help smiling. Jesse raised his eyebrows in silent question, and Ray nodded again.

“No. Way.”

Ray dropped his hand from Jesse’s shoulder and took a long draught of his beer. He’d just come out to one of his ranch hands. Granted circumstances were somewhat unique. But there it was. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that just yet. It was a bit of a relief, but he’d also just risked opening the door a sliver, let a spear of light in to tease out the darkened corners.

But Jesse was a good kid, deserved a good life, so that little bit of risk was worth it. At least now Jesse knew he had someone he could talk to. And so did Ray.

“Well.” Ray cleared his throat. “This is your home now, as long as you want. You’re safe here. We’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you, Ray.”

Jesse looked over at Travis, then back at Ray with a concerned expression on his youthful face. Ray shook his head and stood up. “It’s been a crazy couple days,” he said to Jesse. “Why don’t you call it a night.”

Jesse nodded, stood up, and said good night to Travis, who didn’t seem to notice. Ray gave him a pat on the shoulder and sent him down the hall. Ray sat back down on the far end of the couch and waited patiently for Travis to come back. The clock in the dining room ticked faintly in the background, keeping time with Ray’s steady heartbeat. Floorboards overhead creaked as Jesse made his way along the upstairs hall to the bathroom. Water splashed through copper pipes buried in the walls and groaned when it stopped. Then the quiet hum of silence filled the house.

Finally Travis looked over at him, slightly stunned, like he’d just realized where he was but not quite sure how he got there—face drawn and eyes haunted.

“Welcome back,” Ray said quietly.

Travis rubbed at his jaw absently. “Sorry, didn’t mean to zone out there.”

Ray nodded. Just like waiting for Dot to get her “go” in gear, he waited for Travis to start the conversation. He’d share where he’d gone or he wouldn’t, but Ray found himself hoping the man would.

“Jess okay?”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

Travis looked down at the bottle in his hands as if wondering why he was holding it. Whatever had happened in the man’s past, the incident with Jesse and his dad had brought something painful to the surface. Ray had already caught a glimpse of vulnerability buried in the depths of Travis’s eyes at the café in Billings, and now this. Just like he didn’t ever want to see Jesse’s bright light dimmed, he didn’t want to see Travis lose his carefree, mischievous attitude. Ray was disturbed to find that it hurt him seeing Travis in pain—the kind of pain that couldn’t be healed with salve and a Band-Aid. All he wanted to do was cross the room, pull Travis from the chair, and hold him. Run his hands through Travis’s hair, over his back, and soothe away whatever hidden demons he fought.

Travis looked up at Ray and held his gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching for a sign of some sort. Finally he sighed, placed his beer bottle on the companion table, and locked his gaze on the area rug again.

“I was fifteen when my dad found me kissing another boy,” he began. His voice was monotone and low, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. “He flew into a rage. Beat the shit out of me: my first broken nose, ribs. First broken anything actually. Then when I was lying in a pool of my own blood in the dirt, and he told me I was dead to him. Kicked me off his property. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

“Jesus, Travis.”

“I swore no one would ever hurt me again,” he continued, his words growing stronger and sharper as he spoke. “Swore I wouldn’t let anyone beat on someone who couldn’t defend themselves. I won’t stand for it. Won’t turn my back on anyone in need of help. But Jesse needed my help…”

Travis looked up, and Ray’s heart lurched. Anger and shame shone behind a brilliant glossy sheen that covered those beautiful eyes and reflected in the edge of that deep voice.

“Jesse needed my help, and I failed him. I swore I wouldn’t let the Sams of the world hurt him when he told me he was gay. And look at him!” Travis’s voice pitched a notch higher. “Look what the bastard did to that poor kid. Because of me. Because I failed.”

Ray couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand to see the Travis he knew suffer and berate himself. Ray was as much at fault—more actually. Travis had really only just met Jesse, but Ray had known him for ten years.

In one swift move, he crossed the room and pulled Travis up into his arms.

Travis fell into Ray’s embrace, warm and solid and strong. So, so strong.

He needed that more than anything right then, was shocked by how much he needed it, that he even could.

And then he broke, gave in, took that comfort without hesitation and let the past wash over him. Watched it race downriver in a flood from his pores. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ray’s waist and clung to him like a life preserver in the churning rapids. Fear of history repeating itself, of not being able to protect, not being enough for anyone, drowned in the safe current of Ray’s warmth.

His throat constricted.
Hell no
. He would
not
fucking cry. Not in front of this man.

Ray held Travis with one arm firm around his waist and a rugged hand cradling the back of his skull. Travis leaned his forehead into Ray’s shoulder, and Ray whispered in his ear. He couldn’t make out the words but understood their meaning. He let Ray’s strength hold him, wrap around him like a shield.

“It’s okay, Travis,” Ray soothed in that rough, melodic voice. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”

A single sob escaped Travis’s burning throat. He squeezed his stinging eyes shut and fisted a hand in Ray’s shirt. Travis knew he was losing the fight but wasn’t yet willing to give up.

Ray moved his hand in slow circles over Travis’s back. “I won’t let you fall,” he whispered. “Let it go.”

And Travis did.

He’d already passed the point of any chance at winning that fight anyway. The floodgates opened, and it all came flooding out in a violent, gushing mess: the pain of being rejected by his father, his family. All the years of being lost and alone with no one to lean on, take care of him. He cried for the boy whose childhood had been stolen and the man he’d become, so afraid of letting himself care for anyone enough to give them the power to hurt him.

He cried for the people he hadn’t been able to help, the ones he’d failed. The ones he loved but could never tell. For Jesse Davis, so young and innocent, and for Ray Ford, hidden so deep he’d need a search and rescue team to find him.

He cried until the reservoir ran dry and his throat scrapped like sandpaper and his body felt exhausted. And Ray held him tightly the whole time. He didn’t let Travis go, didn’t stop whispering in his ear.

Finally he was empty. He stood clutched to Ray until the vice grip on his chest loosened, until his heartbeat steadied, until he could breathe again. And he breathed in Ray. Suede and sandalwood filled his senses. Suddenly it wasn’t enough. Suddenly he needed more, needed
all
of Ray.

Travis began to nuzzle into Ray’s neck, inhaling his scent, and Ray tilted his head slightly, allowing Travis more access. Travis sucked the warm skin into his mouth and rolled his tongue over the salty flesh as he gently drew blood to the surface.

Hot, moist breath against his ear sent shivers tearing through his body. Sure fingers threaded through his hair. He couldn’t stop the moan that exploded from his throat. And then Ray’s mouth was on his, but not crushing or aggressive like the day before. This time it was soft, gentle, and deeply sensual. Travis parted his lips, and Ray’s tongue slipped into his mouth in lazy exploration. The tenderness of it turned something in his chest. A weight lifted, a crack opened, and light seeped inside. The sensation of being home washed over Travis once again. But now he knew why. He was where he wanted to be. The place he’d traveled back and forth across the country to find. Where he belonged—and the man he belonged with.

“Oh God, Ray.” He broke the kiss and panted. “I want you so bad.”

“I know.” Ray’s voice was breathy. “God, I know.”

Then firm, satin-skinned lips stole the breath from his lungs with a ferociousness that had Travis wondering if, for the first time in his life, his knees might truly buckle.

Travis answered the commanding kiss with a demand of his own. He lured Ray’s tongue into his mouth and wrestled with it: tangling, twisting, sucking. A deep, long groan reverberated between them, and he wasn’t sure which of them it had come from. Didn’t care. All he knew was that Ray Ford was kissing him like a man stranded in the desert who’d just discovered water. Travis prayed the well would never run dry as that clever tongue dueled with his. The taste of him was intoxicating and heady: spice and cinnamon rode sidesaddle with the beer he’d just finished.

Travis tugged Ray’s shirt from the waistband. He slid his hands beneath the soft material and sank into burning hot, satin skin stretched over hard, flexing muscle. His hands moved of their own accord, trying to cover every inch of Ray. The muscle beneath his palms responded eagerly to his touch.

Ray groaned hungrily and rocked into him, grinding their erections together in erotic rhythm. Urgent hands traced over Travis’s shoulders, his chest, and then began roughly unbuttoning his shirt.