Making Promises (38 page)

“I’ll talk to Arlen about it,” she said after a moment. “We’d have to see your Deacon in action first, but if Arlen says it’s okay, we’ll come out and see what he can do. Most of our riders live in Sacramento—the commute is probably shorter for them, and that wouldn’t be a hardship.

But first we’ll have to see what he can do. I don’t want to give my friends’

horses to someone who won’t treat them right, you hear me?” Shane nodded, a slow, sunshine grin breaking out over his face, and Mikhail looked at him with a combination of pride and bitterness.
I’d lay
down and die for these people.
Well. It was good to know the list of things he would die for. Mikhail was just hoping there was enough of his heart to want to live as well.

They left after a little more conversation and an exchange of numbers, and once they were clear of the twisty hairpin turn part of the road, Shane was exuberant on the ride home.

Mikhail didn’t realize that he was being taciturn and pissy until one of his abrupt answers brought Shane up short, and a hurt quiet fell over the car.

“I’m sorry,” Mikhail said, meaning it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I am stupid. It was a figure of speech, that’s all.” He was muttering partly to himself because he felt foolish and petty, and it made him angry because he was a coward as well.

“I am so confused,” Shane muttered, and Mikhail felt it burst out of his mouth before it burst out of his chest.

“You would lay down and die for them, is that not what you said?” 230

Shane gave him a brief, sideways glance before concentrating on the road. “Yeah. I would. I’d do the same for you, you know.” Mikhail looked blindly into the sun tipped trees. It was late afternoon, and it would be dark soon, and the sunlight was no longer the joy it had been that morning. “Excellent,” he said absently.

There was a small gas station on the side of the road, and Shane pulled off into it, apparently to get gas.

“’Kay, Mickey, get out with me, and let’s talk while I’m doing this, fair enough?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Mikhail said, curling up his lip.

Dammit, he knew he was being pissy, he
knew
he was being unfair, but…

ah, gods. Shit fuck damn bloody, bloody, bloody fucking hell. “Fine,” he snapped to nothing in particular.

He stood and stretched and then shivered because it was cold up here, especially in the evening before dark, and trotted around the car to where Shane had just started the pump.

“You will die for everybody, wonderful,” Mikhail said randomly.

“I’d be overwhelmed if you would live for me instead.” Shane raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere….”

“Shut up. You say that. But you exhaust yourself caring for my mother, caring for me, and then you put yourself out for your family. You don’t ask for a break or tell either one of us to fuck off, you just…. Why can I not be enough?” In a thousand years, Mikhail would not have thought he was capable of that much pettiness. He shook his head. “I am being
so
stupid. I cannot even explain why. Here. I will go sulk in the car, and you can ignore me like a misbehaving child….”

“No no no….” Shane reached out and grabbed his arm and pulled, and Mikhail awkwardly stepped over the gas pump to come stand in front of the man as he leaned up against his car. “
Talk
to me.”

“What is there to talk about? I am a petty, jealous asshole, and I am making something out of nothing.” In desperation, Mikhail banged his head softly against Shane’s collarbone and Shane laughed and—

disregarding prying eyes from passersby—wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“Here’s the thing,” he said seriously, and Mikhail looked up into those warm brown eyes with the crinkles at the corners and trusted him to make this better, since Mikhail himself could not.

“The thing is, you had your mother. I know she’s not going to be here for long, and that sucks, but you
had
her. When you really needed someone, you had her. If I had done what you did—gone off the deep end as a kid—Mickey? I’d be dead. There was no one to pull me back. No reason to come back. And these people want me. They want me at their table. Hell—they want
you
at their table. Now I know you got tight with Jon, and with Benny and Jeff and Drew. I think you’re just freaking out about meeting Deacon because I obviously respect the hell out of the guy.

I can’t fix that you’re freaking out—but I can tell you that you don’t need to. Does that help?”

“I’m an asshole,” Mikhail said thickly, and Shane laughed and made him lean his head against Shane’s hard chest.

“Yes, yes you are. But I love you.”

Mikhail sucked in a shocked breath and tried to struggle away and make something of it, but Shane just pressed him closer. “Don’t sweat it, Mickey. You’ll say it if and when you’re ready.”

“You have such faith,” Mikhail mumbled, and Shane didn’t argue with him. They got back into the car, and the silence between them was easier, and the music was a blessing they both needed.

Softly you whisper, you’re so sincere…

“Open Arms”—Journey

SHANE didn’t know how to fix it. He knew Mickey was jealous, he knew Mickey knew it was irrational, and that was just how it was going to have to sit.

At least until Mikhail learned to visit Deacon and know that Deacon was the last person on earth to judge him and find him wanting.

So Shane had to be content to listen to the music and let the coolness of the late afternoon air blow the fog and the dimness of the last three weeks out of their hearts and to know that it would be okay. It had to.

Mickey needed things to be okay—and that couldn’t happen if they were on their own.

The fog was back by the time they hit Roseville, and it was getting dark by the time he pulled up to the cattle gate in front of his own home.

God, the place looked good.

He had missed it these past weeks and had done his best to spend as much good time with the animals as possible. Lots of long walks with the dogs and grooming with the cats, lots of training the puppy and trimming toenails, lots of home improvement and trimming the yard. By the time he got to Mikhail’s place to help take care of Ylena, he’d been ready for something a little more sedentary, and by the time he left, he was ready for something less painful. But between both places, he was really ready for some peace.

Work was actually starting to sound like a relief. Of course a good laugh was always helpful too.

When he pulled up to the cattle gate, Shane had Mikhail get out of the GTO to open the gate so he could drive through. Mikhail had just finished closing the thing when Angel Marie came running to give Shane his usual greeting. It was a good thing that Mikhail had already locked the gate, because he took one look at that big-assed dog, screamed like a girl, and sprinted for Shane. Quicker than Shane could have imagined, Mikhail climbed him like a tree as Shane propped himself against the car to keep from toppling over.

“Good Christ, what is that thing!” Mikhail shrieked, his knees digging into Shane’s shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. Angel Marie, happy to see a new friend, promptly stood up on her hind legs, put her paws on Shane’s shoulders and started licking Shane’s face to get him to properly introduce this new friend. Besides laughing so hard his side
literally
ached, Shane had to juggle Mikhail’s weight on his shoulders, Angel Marie pushing him backward, and a mouthful of dog spit, all at the same time.

“Mikhail… dammit, Angel… Mikhail… Angel, for chrissakes get down, you big spaz… dammit, Mikhail! Would you stand on the car or something….” And then, because neither of them were giving an inch or a quarter, “Ouch… ouch ouch ouch ouch….” And he fell to one knee.

Mikhail vaulted off his shoulders and over the dog like a goddamned Olympic gymnast, and the dog decided that this was a much better position from which to drown him in drool. And then the other dogs all caught up with Angel Marie, and Shane found himself laughing, wincing, and generally overwhelmed by a mass of furry bodies. In desperation, he wrapped an arm over Angel Marie’s neck and let the big animal pull him free, and after administering dog noogies all the way around he picked up the first thing he could find (a big piece of rope with knots tied on either end) and pitched it with enough force to land on the roof of the house.

Eagerly barking, the animals took off after the rope-bone, and Shane dragged himself up, panting breathlessly. “Hurry, Mickey—go up to the porch while I get your clothes. We’ve got about three minutes before they figure that thing’s not coming back down and come back for round two!” Mikhail was still staring at him in horror. “Holy Christ, what was that thing?”

Shane started laughing all over again, leaning against the car in pain and not caring. “That was Angel Marie—you know, my dog? Jesus, Mickey, I showed you pictures.”

There was a puzzled whimper from the other side of the house, and Mikhail started trotting to the front door. “The hell you say! That wasn’t a dog—that was a furry dragon!”

“Nah,” Shane said, chuckling some more as he gathered the groceries and Mikhail’s backpack from the car. “And even if it was a dragon, you don’t need to worry—he wouldn’t eat you.” Mikhail took the porch steps two at a time and stood next to the bench Shane had built, the whole while quivering in anxiety should the dogs return. “He won’t eat me? And how do you know that?” Shane got there with the keys and flashed a playful grin. “Mickey, you know dragons only eat virgins.”

Mikhail almost didn’t beat the dogs in, he was so busy gaping at Shane with enough indignation to literally slay a dragon.

They got inside and closed the door and were immediately besieged by cats.

Mikhail’s reaction to the cats was completely opposite to that of the dogs. He sat down, right there on the white tile of the kitchen floor, and started to pet them as they milled around, rubbing their cheeks and rumps on his hands and knuckles as he crooned to them.

“Oh, yes, you are pretty. There… if I scratch your ass, will you preen for me? Of course you will. Look at that tail…you are a kitty in search for a piece of ass, yes you are….”

Shane dropped all of Mikhail’s stuff by the couch and then hurried to the cupboard for several cans of cat food, which he opened and dumped into the bowls. The furry wave receded, leaving Mikhail alone on the floor, staring in bemusement up at Shane.

“Cupboard love,” Shane shrugged, offering his hand. Mikhail took it and watched as Shane tightened his expression with his weight. Shane could have kicked himself when Mickey swore and started rooting under Shane’s sweatshirt and T-shirt, and then he found the scar and stepped back, stricken.

“You are
bleeding
!”
The look of horror on his face was almost too awful to bear.

Shane took a look under his shirts—the scar was still pretty tight, and all of that movement—not to mention a hundred and fifty pounds of terrified Russian on his back—sure enough had managed to pull the skin apart a little. “Would you look at that?” Shane mused. He grinned at Mikhail, hoping to take that awful look off his face. “It was totally worth it,” he chuckled. “Man—you screamed like a
girl.
I’ve never in my life heard someone scream like that!”

Mikhail’s face was something to see—he went back and forth from indignation to self-blame, from anger to pissiness, for long enough that Shane was going to try to find another tack to jolly him out of it. Finally he settled on disdain, and Shane figured they were going to be okay.

“If this is your way of attracting virgins for that monster, it’s a wonder he hasn’t starved to death. Here—let me get some gauze and tape that for you.”

“Wait—I was going to shower in a minute, after I started dinner. If it’s still bleeding, we can wrap it then.”

Mikhail nodded with just enough shakiness to let Shane know he was still not okay. He reached out and grabbed the waist of Mikhail’s jeans and hauled him closer as he leaned back on the counter. “Sorry about the dogs, Mickey. I forget—they really are sort of overwhelming.” Mikhail shook his head and laughed, still wobbly. “You really are an extraordinary person, do you know that?”

Shane snorted. “Not so much.” In spite of the fact that he loved having Mikhail right there, he started moving restlessly around the kitchen, because the praise made him antsy. “I figured mac ’n’ cheese with some hot dogs thrown in, you think?”

Unfortunately, the kitchen really wasn’t that big a place—two counters, about five feet apart, one with the stove and the other with the sink. Shane fed the cats in what amounted to the entryway, so whoever walked in the house had to walk through a variety of food and water bowls to get inside. It wasn’t an ideal layout, but Shane had never felt crowded until Mikhail stopped him from rooting in the pan cupboard with a quiet hand on his arm.