A Cowboy's Home (19 page)

It took everything Justin had in him not to
shrink away. He didn’t want to be touched, cornered like this. Of
course he should love his dad, who wouldn’t love their dad? Except
men like him with ice instead of hearts, maybe? It would be so easy
to say
I love you,
to let Marcus have that moment, but he
couldn’t. Because he wasn’t the son any man would want. Not
anymore.

“Thank you,” he forced out and waited for
Marcus to leave the room.

Ethan remained, watching him with a
thoughtful expression. “Whatever happens, whether you stay or
leave, I love you, little brother,” Ethan said. His eyes looked
suspiciously bright, and Justin wished he could get in touch with
his feelings like that.
Wondered if he
had feelings at all.
Sometimes he wondered if the hate, the
bitterness, and the anger had burned away all the good emotions,
like hope, happiness, and love.

“Thank you” was all he could think to say.
Should he add that every time he thought about home it tore him
apart, and after a while he’d stopped thinking at all? That even
the love and the grief wasn’t enough to keep him connected to his
family?

So why come home to die? Why did I even think
that would be okay?

Ethan asked carefully, “Can we talk about
Adam?”

“I can’t talk to him,” Justin said, and
immediately he was on the defensive. “I won’t talk to him about any
of it.” Talking to Adam might just push him over the edge of the
fine balancing act between guilt and hate.

Ethan sat on the bed, close enough to rest a
hand on Justin’s knee, but Justin wriggled away. Ethan looked hurt
but didn’t say anything about it. “I wasn’t asking you to see him,
but he needs to know what happened.”

“No, he doesn’t.” On that, Justin was firm.
“I told you, I came home to die.” Justin had to be honest. “No one
was ever supposed to find me.”

Ethan blanched. “Jesus, Justin, you need to
stop saying shit like that.”

“You wanted to know,” Justin snapped. His
meds started to work their magic; the pain was easing again, and
sleep began to tug at him.

“What happened to you that you can talk about
dying like it doesn’t matter?”

“Stop asking me.”

“Please talk to me,” Ethan entreated. “I’m
your brother.”

Justin needed Ethan to go, to leave him
alone. He didn’t want to talk to him or listen to his questions.
“You don’t have a brother,” he said as cruelly as he could. “He
died in ’04, and he’s not coming back.”

Ethan recoiled, his expression a mixture of
shock and hurt. “That’s complete shit. My
brother
is sitting
on a bed in a cabin on Crooked Tree. That’s the very definition of
back
.”

“And as soon as I can, I’m leaving.”

Ethan reached for him again, clamping a hand
on the knee of his good leg. No way was Justin wriggling free from
that. “You remember the toy soldiers? How you put them in my shoes,
and my cereal, and under my pillow?”

Grief stabbed at Justin. He’d been the king
of practical jokes, but that had been a long time ago now. “I’m not
sitting here fucking reminiscing with you.” He didn’t want the
whole psychological bullshit move of being reminded of his
childhood.

“And remember that time we went up to Silver
Pond and decided we were going to live in the water, like mermen?
You were only eight, and you thought it was such a good idea.”

“Leave me alone,” Justin said in a flat
tone.

Ethan squeezed Justin’s knee again. “No,
because I missed out on so much, and I want to have someone to
share memories with, and that person is you.”

Justin stared at him, wanting to feel
affection, love, a connection, but all he saw was danger. They
shouldn’t be talking; he shouldn’t be here, and he needed to
protect everyone.

He wanted Sam back as a buffer between him
and everyone else. Wanted Sam’s nails scratching his scalp, Sam’s
fingers curling in his hair and tugging it.

But most of all, he just wanted to leave.
“I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay.” Ethan moved to sit on the chair that
Marcus had used.

“On. My. Fucking. Own,” Justin snapped. “I
don’t need watching.”

Ethan stood, nodded, and left the room,
pulling the door shut behind him.

Justin immediately attempted to roll off the
bed. It took him three tries to be able to stand up without holding
onto something, and a further minute or two willing away the
nausea, and then he moved to the window. He opened it and let in
air, and for a second he could even visualize himself climbing over
the ledge, dropping to the ground outside, and making his way into
the forest.

But he couldn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even stand
up unaided. His thigh burned, his head hurt, and he was a pathetic
mess of shit that couldn’t even face talking to his brother.

“Okay, son?” Marcus asked from the
doorway.

Justin hadn’t even heard his dad open the
door, so how the hell was he going to be safe out there beyond the
borders of Crooked Tree? “What?” he snapped. Clearly he’d sunk into
being-shit-to-everyone mode to deal with things.

“Ethan said you were sleeping,” Marcus
stepped into the room, a glass of water in one hand and something
wrapped in foil in the other. “I wanted to bring this in, in case
you woke up hungry or thirsty. PB & J, your favorite.”

“When I was ten, Dad.” Justin hadn’t snapped
that time as much as said it very tiredly.

Marcus nodded and then smiled. “Well, you
never know. It might still be.”

Justin hadn’t had much in the way of PB &
Js over the past twelve years, living mostly off of whatever the
hell he could get from drive-throughs, or whatever his cover name
ate in whatever underground shit he’d infiltrated. Still, he did
enough exercise to burn off anything he ate, keeping himself fit
and his muscles strong. He was a machine when it came to that.
“Thank you,” he offered grudgingly.

“I wish you’d smile,” Marcus said as he
placed the sandwich and drink on the bedside table. “You have a
lovely smile. Remember that photo of you and Easy?”

“Stop it, Dad, I already had Ethan trying to
drag me down memory lane, I’m done with it.”

Marcus nodded, but he didn’t move from the
side of the bed.

Justin felt muddled, seeing his dad standing
there staring at him. Finally, he simply had to say, “I heard about
the cancer.”

“Ethan told you.”

“No, I just knew.”

Justin regretted that as soon as Marcus put
two and two together. “You kept watch over us,” his dad said.

“Some. Just the big things. I couldn’t raise
suspicions that I was… never mind.”

A single tear rolled down Marcus’s face. “I’m
sorry.”

“What for?” Justin was wary; emotion was a
trap waiting for him to fall into it.

“For giving up, for thinking you were dead.
Ethan tried to tell me, but I couldn’t believe.
If you were watching and you saw me give up, then I’m
so sorry.”

Something deep inside knotted hard and Justin
was completely lost for words. “Ethan!” he called, hoping to hell
his brother wasn’t too far away.

The door flew open and Ethan was in the room
in an instant. “What?” he asked panicked. His gaze darted around
the room, looking for danger; his hand had gone to his weapon.

Justin simply pointed at his dad. “He’s
crying.” Then he turned to look out at the trees.

He couldn’t watch Ethan supporting their dad,
or listen to the words that might be enough to get Marcus to stop
with the emotions.

The door shut. Cautiously Justin turned to
face whoever was left in the room.

But there was no one. Dad and his tears,
Ethan with his frustratingly strong emotions, had both gone. Justin
was alone.

That was just how he wanted it.

Except… it would be better if Sam was there,
just sitting and not asking questions, and playing with Justin’s
hair.

Much better.

Sam placed the chicken just so on the open
sandwich and drizzled the garlic oil over it, judging the look of
the dish with an expert eye and then taking it and the ham on rye
out to the waiting customers. Ashley was baking, Kirsten had come
home and was in charge of the coffees, and the restaurant had an
air of peace—much more than the room in the cabin where he’d left
Justin to face his family alone.

Sam couldn’t help thinking that he should
have stayed. Justin had gripped him hard, clearly looking for Sam
to be a physical barrier between himself and his family and
friends. Sam almost felt guilty for leaving him; there had been
desperation in Justin’s eyes.

“How’s
things
?” Ashley asked as she
slid a tin of cake mix into the oven.

Sam hoped that was triple choc chip, because
that cake was to die for. “Is that TCC?” he peered in through the
glass door.

“Stop changing the subject,” she
admonished.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Gabe came back. He told me what’s
happening.” She glanced behind them at the restaurant. They were
light on customers.

Sam turned to face her, hoping his expression
was innocent. Clearly not, because she punched him on the arm.
“Gabe will keep you up to date,” he said, rubbing his arm and
frowning at her.

“You can tell me. What’s it like having him
back?” She lowered her voice a little, leaned
over to
half whisper.

“You’d have to ask someone who knew him
before.” Sam took off his apron and smoothed down his shirt. “Look,
have you got this?”

Ashley glanced at the few customers still
here mid-afternoon. “Of course.”

“What are bookings like?”

“No one for tonight, but I need to prep for
lunch tomorrow. We have a ladies’ group of twelve in for
lunch.”

“Okay, you can handle that.” Sam couldn’t
believe he’d even had to ask her; he always knew exactly to the
last person who would be eating here.

Thing was, he had more important things on
his mind. He went to the pantry area, putting some food together:
pulled some leftovers out of the large fridge before adding bread
and a few other bits and pieces. Justin wasn’t doing so well at
keeping food down, but Aaron had said that should ease. The sexy
paramedic also said he needed an MRI, which Justin, of course, had
said wasn’t necessary.

“You’re taking food?” Ashley asked.

Sam jumped a mile. Damn woman was sneaky at
scaring the shit out of him. “Yeah.”

“Here.” She thrust a container of TCC bake at
him. “Take this as well.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“Do me a favor? Gabe’s up at the house. Tell
him to get his ass down here. I need the company.” Then she added
in a whisper, “I need way more gossip.”

Sam nodded. He didn’t want to get in the
middle of a domestic, nor did he really want to see Gabe, who
wasn’t taking all this Justin stuff very well.

Needless to say, for Ashley, Gabe would do
almost anything.

Sam walked to the house Gabe shared with
Ashley and her kids, Kirsten and Josh.

Josh answered the door. “Gabe isn’t well,” he
said, with a frown on his face. “I made him coffee, but he’s
grumpy.”

Sam nodded and placed the bag of food inside
the door. “I’ll talk to him. Oh hey, Josh, I forgot butter. Could
you go to Branches and get some for me?”

“Butter?” Josh looked dubious, his gaze
flicking from Sam to the back porch, where Sam guessed Gabe was
sitting. Was Josh at that age that he knew he was being fobbed off?
“Okay.” Josh finally agreed and scampered past Sam.

Which meant Sam had
Gabe to himself, so he stalked through the house and out to the
back porch with the gorgeous view up to the mountains.

“Hey,” Sam said,
startling
Gabe, who looked really lost in thought.

“Hey, back.”

“Message from Ashley. Get your ass to
Branches and tell her more about what the hell is going on.”

Gabe laughed. “She has a way with words.”

“And she has you by the balls,” Sam
agreed.

“Just like I want it.”

“You’re whipped.”

Gabe stood up and stretched. “I was just
sitting here, thinking about Justin and Adam.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam didn’t want to have an in-depth
conversation with Gabe, who looked very close to becoming
emotional. But somehow he couldn’t move; he was rooted to the
spot.

“How am I supposed to deal with this?” Gabe
asked, sounding plaintive.

Sam pressed his lips together and then huffed
a breath. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“I should probably get my head out of my ass,
right?”

In answer, Sam smiled. “I’m going back up
there with food. Tell Ashley more, and then she’ll stop asking me.”
He turned to leave.

“Sam? Wait. I wanted to ask you….”

“What?”

“In the shack, when you first saw him, did he
say anything to you about where he’s been, what he’s done?”

“Nothing.”

“Would you even tell me?”

“I would. I promise you.”

Sam managed to get away before any more
questions could be asked. At Branches, he took the butter from Josh
and hoisted the bag over his back before climbing onto his dirt
bike.

“Mom’s making triple choc chip,” Josh said,
with no small amount of excitement. “You coming over later?”

TCC tray bake was code for Josh and Sam
sitting and joking about how many slices they could eat.

“Definitely. Save me some.”

Before Josh could pin him down, he throttled
back and sped up the hill and into the forest.

What he found when he got to the cabin wasn’t
the best situation. Apparently, Justin wanted to be alone. Ethan
had taken to sitting outside the cabin, with a view through the
window of Justin’s room, and Marcus sat in the gloom of the
kitchen, nursing cold coffee and looking pretty sorry for
himself.