You're Always in the Last Place You Look (25 page)

I kicked the hoof-churned grass, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t like to think it counted.”

“
Fuck
,” Tye muttered, clasping the back of my neck and squeezing until I looked up into his irate face. “Then it didn’t,” he said with soft resolution, his eyes a little crazy as they bore into mine. It was a good thing Amy was at college in California right now, or I was pretty sure Tye would be on her doorstep by the end of the evening. Somehow that made me feel worse, knowing that what she had done was wrong in his eyes too. Swallowing my regret, I nodded.

Tye released me, then unlocked his door. “It sucks he had to work...”

I just nodded as he hopped in his truck.

It hadn’t been work that had prevented him from coming. It had been his aunt. When she found out, she went ballistic, threatening to change the locks if he was away even one night. And she hadn’t meant only this weekend. It was her way of regaining control, but with Zane’s inheritance on the line there was no room to push back, at least not until he had his diploma in hand. Three more weeks and he’d be a free man—free to go back to Chicago anyway.

I refused to dwell on that. I refused to be petulant. On the way home I called Zane and it went directly to voice mail. Figuring he was at the house, I called half a dozen times, hanging up on Mrs. Cormley’s overly cheerful message each time. Damn it, where was he? Didn’t he miss me—even a little? After two days without him I was practically pulling my hair out. Okay, so maybe that made me a little needy, or overbearing, or—anyway, my mood took a dive.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

After three tries I finally had the trailer backed in next to the barn, almost taking out the old maple in the process. The day was catching up to me, or rather had already caught me, and I could feel a headache building at the back of my skull. I wanted to crawl into bed, and open my eyes on tomorrow, knowing Zane would be there waiting for me.

I came around the rear of the trailer, and about ran right into him. “What are you doing here?” I demanded. At the moment my mind wasn’t working faster than zombie mode, so it hadn’t occurred to me he might be here rather than at home waiting with bated breath for my call. His beautiful blue eyes took me in, and instead of replying, he kissed me. At the first taste of him my surprise turned into relief, comfort, solace—I pressed against him, needing to feel how much he missed me. His lips lingered, and I felt the tension drain out my feet leaving them tingly. Of course that could have been the kiss too.

He pulled back, running a thumb over my cheek. “You looked like you needed that.”

Ridiculously, I had. Beneath that gentle kiss everything miraculously faded to insignificance, and I was no longer fuming over the bad draws; the calf who set back when my rope whizzed along his horn wrap, or the baldy who hopped out of Tye’s loop, taking us out of the yearly standings. Even my headache seemed to be diminishing.

“How do you know me so well?” I asked, my hands roaming his sides, not willing to let go of him just yet.

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. I think I needed it too.”

AJ thumped, rocking the trailer, then started to paw, successfully breaking us apart. “Impatient pony.” I sighed. I was going to kill AJ. Unlatching the door, I hollered, “Knock it off. Geez, can’t you give me a minute. It’s not like your starving. You have a whole fricken haybag right in front of you.” Well, he
had
had a full haybag, but now it was all at his feet. Stepping in, I untied him, and backed him out.

“How long have you been here?” I asked Zane as I released AJ into his pen. Nickering, he trotted over to Grace. I guess he had someone he missed too.

“Long enough for your dad to torture me. I swear he’s pure evil.” Zane rubbed his butt, causing me to grin.

“I see how it is. I let you ride my horse, and I’m repaid in sarcasm.” My dad shook his head, but he was smiling broadly.

“That is not a horse. She’s a torture device. It’s a good thing I’m gay, because I don’t think I’m able to have children after today.” Zane grimaced as he cupped himself.

I laughed, while my dad tried not too. God it was good to be home.

*

“I love this spot.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d like it,” I said, recalling when I found him here broke down and bleeding.

He glanced at me, a small smile toying with his lips. “It was the first time you held me. The first time I felt alive again.”

“Wow. That’s...kinda heavy.” We both stared at the other for a second, then started laughing.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Still laughing, Zane chucked a rock into the creek.

“This was a really cool idea. To come home to, I mean.” Popping a strawberry from Mom’s patch in my mouth, I gestured at gram’s old picnic basket he had borrowed from my folks.

He kept his eyes on the creek as his neck blazed, igniting his face. “I really wished I could have gone this weekend...” He shrugged slightly, the blush spreading wildly. “And I kinda annihilated the plans I had for my birthday.”

I leaned over, and nuzzled the color flaring along his neck with my nose. “Mr. Zimmerman, are you trying to seduce me?”

He bowed his head, and smiled. “Maybe...” He peeked at me. “Is it working?”

“Maybe...” Palming his heated face, I turned him to me, taking in his glowing cheeks, and the nervous glimmer in his eyes. Yeah, it was working.

And Zane did seduce me.

Afterwards I laid there, eyes wide, unable to focus, unable to breathe, my mind a blissful haze. Then Zane kissed my stomach, my chest, and teased my throat with that damn tongue stud he had tormented me with only moments ago. I gasped, my body suddenly remembering breathing was essential to survival. He settled himself on top of me, his skin cool and soothing against the fire of mine.

“Was that as gross as you thought it would be?” he asked, his face flushed, his beguiling eyes knowing the answer to his own question.

That, what he had done,
oh man
—panting, I shook my head, too overtaken to form words. I looked at his mouth, his smirking lips, they looked swollen and dark. I just stared. Surprised at what he had done, at how good it had felt, and still shocked, I think, that he hadn’t released me when I tried to squirm away. I swore he moaned, his lips latching tighter, but I had been so lost in the sensation I couldn’t be sure.

Lifting my head I brushed his lips. Then I kissed him again. And as the taste of him, of me on him, the rude scent of it hit my senses, something happened. I found that teenage boy I had never been. The one I was so sure didn’t exist. He was there, kissing Zane with everything he had, with everything he was.

I rolled him underneath me. Then kissed his cheek, nipped his neck, kissed his throat, and tasted his skin as I slowly made my way down his body, wanting to experience every part of him, as he had me.

“No. Gabe, don’t.”

I lifted my head, hearing the plaintive tone. “But I want...” His hands went to his face as a shiver traveled over him. Shuffling up, I gently removed his hands. There was an odd look beneath them. Not fear, but something—unease, apprehension maybe.

“Zane?” I wasn’t sure what this was, why he had stopped me.

His arms went around me as he buried his face into my neck. “Just...just touch me, please? I just want to be touched.” He took my hand, and guided it down to the button of his jeans.

“All right. I can do that...” I let the back of my fingers trail across his stomach until he relaxed, and laid back so I could kiss him again.

I moved forward hesitantly, wondering if someone had hurt him in his past, worrying about that very thing, knowing from my own experience how easy it could happen.

His hand closed over mine, and I realized my touch was too tentative, too careful. Obviously he wasn’t as fragile as I was thinking.

I watched the splendor of him unraveling beneath me. Right before his stomach muscles went taunt he made the most adorable noises, like a wanton puppy. When his body finally released him, I kissed him gently, and he closed his eyes. A tear escaped, and I wiped it away with my thumb. He pushed against me, scrambling to get up.

I held him, refusing to allow him to bolt from me. “Hey...”

Without opening his eyes, he curled into my chest.

I kissed the top of his head. “I thought I was the one that was supposed to cry?” That only made him cry harder. I wasn’t sure what had brought this on, but I was getting good at holding him, and helping Zane keep the pieces of himself together.

When he had regained himself, I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head against my chest, then moved to sit up, and I released him. He left his jeans slung low on his hips, not even bothering to wipe off his stomach before donning his jacket and lighting a smoke. I felt lost, which wasn’t anything new. However, I didn’t like feeling that way right now, not after sharing ourselves. I stood, zipped up my wranglers, and walked to the edge of the creek.

Zane had a whole life I knew so little about, while I was an open book. Everything I was laid out there for anyone to see. Or it was now, anyway. I knew it was hard for him, but I wished he could trust me enough to talk to me more. My fingers tangled in my hair as I ran my hands over my head.

Zane’s smoke sailed past me into the creek, and I heard him chuckle as I untangled my fingers. Then I was jerked backwards by the waistband of my jeans. He caught me, wrapping his arms around my hips.

“Don’t stand next to the water. You know it makes me crazy.” He leaned his chin on my shoulder. “I really despise this saying, but here it goes. It’s not you, it’s me. Actually, it is you, but not the way you think.”

I waited, and when he didn’t explain, I asked, “Were you planning on enlightening me, or were you just going to leave me to figure it out?”

“I’m working on it...Just give me a minute.” His chest rose against my back. “Okay, here it goes. When I moved here I never thought there would be anyone interesting, let alone someone I’d find myself caring about.”

“You’ve told me that before.”

“Would you shut up and let me—enlighten you?”

“Sorry...”

“My relationships haven’t been what you might consider normal...” He swallowed behind me, his arms adjusting, and I moved them to my chest, hugging them against me, trying to let him know whatever he told me, I would be here. “I’ve always—I like guys to...” A nervous puff of air skittered across my shoulder. “
Damn it
...I’ve always preferred guys tell me what to do—be in control of sex, our relationship—me, I guess.” Zane pulled out of my grasp and backed away. “Shit, I don’t know how to fucking explain without it sounding demented.”

I didn’t turn around because what he was saying did disturb me. “And you think—Are you with me because you think I’m like that?” I couldn’t even masturbate without guilt. Taking control of any part of our relationship, let alone treating him like some sex slave, was out of the question. Zane knew me well enough—he had to know that I wasn’t capable of being that type of person.

“No. I don’t know, maybe. It’s just...No one has ever done that to me,” he said quietly.

I whirled around, shocked more over that, than Zane admitting he let guys take advantage of him. At least it explained why he always wanted me to kiss him first.

Crossing his arms, he added somewhat sulkily, “No one’s ever wanted to.”

I felt my chest tighten over his admission. What kind of assholes had he dated? He brought his gaze up slowly, and I saw how difficult it was for him to meet my eyes. “I didn’t mean to freak out. You...you kind of took me by surprise.” He frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then smirked, the more confidant Zane emerging. “You could try again. Be a little more assertive?”

“You mean aggressive,” I blurted, thinking about the guys at school who treated their girlfriends like possessions, forcing them against their lockers, and taking what they wanted from them. I hated guys like that, and I refused to be that way.

Zane shook his head. “Being confident and being aggressive are two completely different things. I can’t stand aggressive guys.” Unfolding his arms, he set his hands on my hips. “Now, guys who are naturally assertive,” his hands slid across the skin along my back, gently propelling me towards him, “turn me on.” Lowering his head until I could feel his breath along my neck he whispered, “Gabriel,
you
turn me on.”

“But I’m not like that,” I whispered back, not really sure which of us was the more confident at the moment since my hands had already slid beneath his jacket and pulled him the rest of the way against me until we were pressed tightly, groin to chest. I couldn’t help it. He was just too sexy standing there in only his jacket and jeans, having bared a very private part of himself to me.

“It has to be a give and take, Zane.” I tipped my head and waited until he lowered his.

He did, and smiled against my lips. “If you say so.”

Now it was my turn to smile. “I do.” As I crushed my lips to his, I began shivering. Whether from the cool night air or because of the boy lighting me ablaze I wasn’t sure, but I chose to believe the latter.

*

As I slept my mind conjured up horrid images of Zane being ravished and abused by huge brutish men. It was all very ludicrously Old Testament. Even so, I woke up drenched in sweat and shaking.

“Oh honey, you’ve had a fever all night.” My mom wiped my face with a cold—freezing—washcloth. I moved and groaned. Everything hurt. And my sheets were as soaked as I was.

“Did I pee the bed?” I mumbled, not realizing I’d said that aloud until Mom answered me.

“I think it’s just sweat. You’ve been moaning and thrashing all night. It’s probably the flu. It’s been going around.” She offered me a juice glass of water. I drank it, then, within seconds, regretted doing so.

I spent the rest of the day living on the rug in the hall bathroom with Mom changing my blankets every now and then. Every time she shoved water in my face I ended up hugging the toilet, so she finally quit doing that. I slept, and I dreamt. I dreamt about Zane trapped in the van, his family dieing around him, while Keith laughed just out of sight. I dreamt of drowning, and I could see Zane on the smooth rocks along Creeksbend dragging his switchblade over his skin, along his arms, his legs, over and over, the blood running down his naked body. He didn’t see me, and as the creek swallowed me, I knew I wouldn’t be able to save him. I screamed his name, the water filling my lungs—I woke up coughing.

“Hey easy, you’re okay.”

I blinked disbelievingly at Zane, jerked as his hand ran over my head. “What are you doing here?” I eked out between dry heaves.

He looked down, methodically straightening the sheet. “You ask me that a lot, considering. When I stopped by this morning your dad told me you were sick, so here I am.”