A Cowboy's Home (21 page)

He began again. “I was undercover. It was
part of my cover, that’s all. Maybe seven years ago.”

“So, are you saying you’re a cop?” Gabe
asked.

He was trying to label Justin, probably to
get his head around everything, but Justin didn’t want to be
labeled. “Not exactly.”

Gabe pressed for more. “Military?”

How did Justin answer that one? “Sort of,” he
said, brushing the question aside.

“What happened in ’04?” Marcus asked.
His tone was still gentle, like it hurt
to talk, and he looked so tired, so stressed.

Justin looked at Adam, who smiled at him.

“I’m not scared to hear it,” Adam
reassured.

Still, there was no way Justin was saying a
single word. “I can’t, okay? You need to leave it where it
was.”

Marcus sighed in disappointment, and Justin
thought
he saw tears on his dad’s
face. “I’ll be outside,” Marcus said, and left.

Justin grimaced. What purpose would it serve
to hurt anyone by telling them what happened? “Someone follow him,
make sure he’s okay.”

“I’ll go,” Adam announced. “I need to think.”
He left without another word.

Ethan looked after Adam’s exit and frowned,
then turned back at Justin. “Why can’t you give them something that
will work for them?”

“Ethan, you know I can’t do that.”

Now it was Ethan’s turn to look pissed. “I
don’t know anything, because you haven’t told me anything that you
say I can share.”

“Please, Ethan, I need my brother now, the
one who just accepts what I’m doing.”

Ethan shook his head. “I need to go after
them.” Then he gripped Justin’s hand tight. “Are you going to be
okay?”

Ethan was looking right at him, and Justin
didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll stay with him.” Sam filled in the
silence.

Justin tried to move, sitting up a little as
Ethan left, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as Ethan had left, Sam leaned over
him in a smooth move so he could look right into his eyes. Justin
shoved him, but Sam wasn’t moving, anchoring his hands in Justin’s
hair and holding tight.

“What the fuck?” Justin snapped.

“Can’t you give them something? Anything at
all?” Sam asked.

“There’s nothing to tell. I won’t put them in
danger.”

Sam considered the words. “So tell me, then.
I’m not family, and nothing you say will put me in danger.”

If only that were true.

“Tell me about your brother,” Justin said to
change the subject.

Sam focused on the question. “You heard that,
then.”

“Amid all the panic, yeah. Something to do
with you being able to see the marks on my arms and understand
them.”

“Ben. He’s ten years older than me, pride and
joy of the parents. We used to be close, but he and I had a moment,
and we can’t get past it.”

“Tell me why.”

“Long story short, I got thrown out at
sixteen, being gay sucked, he was at the height of using, was
twenty-six, and he wasn’t there for me. But want to know the worst
thing of all? It was okay with my mom and dad that their son was a
junkie, using his inheritance for fun, fucking up their precious
company, wasting everything he was. But me? I liked boys, and that
was not okay at all.” Sam sighed, and his breath was warm on
Justin’s face. “So yeah, that was a moment.”

Justin rested a hand on Sam’s hip; traced the
lines of Sam there with a finger, and suddenly he didn’t want Sam
to move. In fact, he tugged him closer, tucked him into his side.
His weight there was warming, if that was the correct word to use.
“Their loss,” he said, because that sounded like the kind of thing
a normal person would say.

Sam smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Then he leaned down until their faces were
close, and Justin was utterly caught in sapphire eyes. Sexy
blue.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked.

“What?” Justin pressed his head back into the
pillow, but it only gave him a few millimeters more space, and who
was he kidding? He didn’t even want the space, not really.

First sign I’m feeling better.

“This.” Sam pressed a quick kiss to his
lips.

Justin didn’t push him away, but he stared up
at him, shell-shocked. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d kissed
for pleasure, and he was currently in the middle of family issues
that didn’t warrant kissing the sexy man next to him. “What was
that for?”

“It’s like this—for a moment I’d like us to
be kissing,” Sam explained, and then he tugged Justin’s hair, and
the action sent blood rushing south. Sam kissed him deeper,
slanting Justin’s head until they could taste each other,
unrestrained and needy.

The kiss began soft and gentle, and soon
became more, and for a short time, Justin could imagine they were
two regular guys meeting and flirting. That there wasn’t someone
out there coming to kill him, and that his family wasn’t in danger
because he was alive.

When they parted, Justin didn’t say a word
for a while, snuggling into the warmth that was Sam. Snuggling was
not what hardened black ops agents did, but it simply felt
right.

Marcus, Adam, and Ethan didn’t come back in
for a long time. Sam just sat there next to him, massaging his
head, talking softly about nothing at all, and punctuating it all
with kisses. About Sam’s parents; about his brother, Ben; little
bits about getting his meager qualifications; about working three
jobs to pay for a roof over his head, and about being
unsettled.

Justin was happy just to listen to
normal
.

Sam finally moved away from Justin when he
felt his breathing even out and he was asleep. He carefully stepped
away from the bed, and for a short while he stared down at the
complicated man.
Looking at him
sleeping
, his face relaxed, it seemed the horrors Justin had
seen and done hadn’t left their mark. But hidden, like the scars on
his back, they were there.

Counseling would surely just be the start of
it.

“How is he doing?” Ethan asked as soon as he
walked into the kitchen.

“Sleeping.” Sam helped himself to coffee. “Is
Adam okay?”

Ethan made a noncommittal sound. “Not sure
how he’s feeling. Part of me respects Justin for not talking, and
doesn't want Adam remembering anything. The other part wants to
demand that Justin tells us everything.”

“Maybe Adam’ll remember on his own?”

“I hate it when he remembers things, it hurts
him.”

“You can’t decide what he does and doesn’t
remember.”

Ethan had the concerned look on his face he
got whenever he talked about Adam’s pain. “Yeah, I know.”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Go for it.”

Sam took the chair opposite. “Where’s your
dad?”

“Gone for a walk.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s just getting his head around
everything.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Ethan,
it’s just you and me, and you might not like what I have to
say.”

“Seems like the day for big reveals,” Ethan
said. “Next you’ll tell me your red sauce is from a jar.”

Sam shook his head and placed his hand
dramatically on his chest. “You wound me.”

“Well, come on then, spit it out.”

“Your brother.”

“What about him?” Ethan looked
half-defensive, half-worried.

“I’m attracted to him.”

Ethan stared at him blinking steadily, and
then he laughed. “Shit, Sam, is that it? You’re attracted to
everyone.”

Sam felt a little hurt, but he didn’t let it
show. After all, it was his own fault for fostering a certain image
with his friends here at the ranch. No one took him seriously when
it came to his love life.

Well, today he needed to start to redress
that. “No, I mean, not like I do when I flirt with Adam or
Jay—that’s just messing with you and Nate. I mean seriously
attracted, almost painfully so, like I want
to wrap him
up and keep him safe, and hold him, and the
other stuff.”

Ethan blanched. “I do not want to hear about
the other stuff,” he said, holding his hand up and away from the
mug he’d wrapped it around.

Ethan’s palm was reddened from the heat—funny
the things you noticed when you were trying to get your head sorted
out enough to talk through your feelings.

“We kissed,” Sam admitted. “I’m not sure why,
though, but I’d like to do it again.”

“Okay, is that something you feel good with?
I mean, he’s clearly got some issues.”

That’s like calling the Rockies a series of
hills.

“When I found him, he was this scary son of a
bitch, all guns and swagger and threatening me, and I looked at
him, and something about him meant I just knew he wouldn’t hurt me.
That he was a good guy.
Am I
making any sense?”

The door opened, and Marcus and Adam stepped
in, with Gabe close behind and Ashley holding his hand.

“So, what do we do now?” Marcus asked of
everyone who stood in the loose circle.

“You let me leave and pretend this never
happened.”

Everyone turned to see Justin leaning against
the doorjamb, his eyes half-closed and his knuckles white with
clinging to the wood for balance.

Sam didn’t think that was for the best at
all, but abruptly he noticed the expressions of everyone else
there, and they all seemed to be considering it a good thing. Then
it hit him—had Justin heard him talking to Ethan about the
attraction?

Gabe said nothing, just stepped into his
friend’s space and pulled him into a hug.

“Now we’re all in one place again,” Sam heard
him say. “Justin, this is Ashley, my fiancée.”

At first Justin didn’t hug Gabe back, but
Gabe wasn’t letting him get away with it, and finally Justin
wrapped a hand around him and held on. Burying his face in Gabe’s
neck, before he eased away and held out a hand to Ashley, who took
it briefly.

“How did you manage to hook someone this
gorgeous?” Justin teased.

Then he and Gabe spoke quietly, low, so no
one could hear them, Ashley with them. Gabe disentangled himself,
took Ashley’s hand, and turned and left without another word.

“Dad?” Justin asked softly.

Sam held his breath.

Marcus stepped closer to Justin. “I’m sorry,
son.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Justin
said, still leaning on the door, not moving away from his safe
space. “It’s me that’s fucked-up.”

And then Marcus pulled his son close and
supported him. “I should have been there for you, known you had
gone, found you, never given up.”

When they parted, Marcus had wet eyes, but
again, Justin was
dry-eyed
, his
lips pressed together, his features tight with emotion. Sam
wondered if Justin ever let himself cry freely. Was he ever going
to be able to let go of the things he held inside?

“You know I have to leave, right? There are
people out there who want me dead. I can’t stay and put you all in
danger.”

“We can defend ourselves, and you,” Marcus
said, pulling his shoulders back with determination.

Justin half smiled. “If only it were that
easy.”

“No one knows you’re here, why would people
think you’d come home?” Ethan asked.

Sam wanted to hear the answer to that
one.

“Because it would be the first place I would
look when all the other options had been exhausted. It’s how I
found Dillon Naves—the idiot was still visiting his girlfriend.
Regretted it when I shot him.” His words fell flat. Justin might
well be feeling like that made sense but everyone else in the room,
including Sam, was shocked. “Sorry,” Justin added. “Told you I’m
fucked in the head.”

Marcus interrupted the heavy silence. “You
could come up to the house.”

“You know I can’t, Dad.”

Ethan said, “Adam and I will stay here
tonight, in the next room.”

“Yep,” Sam said. “And I have food, drink, and
an insatiable need to lie on a bed. I’m staying right here.”

Sam moved into the kitchen to make food as
soon as everyone left. Ethan and Adam had closed their bedroom
door; the last Sam saw was the two of them kissing as the door
shut.

Not jealous, not jealous at all.

“We need to talk,” Justin said, throwing cold
water over Sam’s heated thoughts.

“I know,” Sam sighed. “You think kissing was
wrong, you’re not staying, you’re not the kind of man that other
men, or women, should be lusting after, oh, and you think that we
should cool any and all kissing before you break my poor little
heart.”

Sam said all that as he spread butter on
bread and only glanced up when Justin didn’t immediately
answer.

Justin had a strange expression on his face,
his mouth open.

“Well, that shut you up,” Sam teased, placing
ham and lettuce on the bread and closing the sandwich. He cut the
bread in two and added chips to the side of Justin’s.

“I
was
going to say all of that,”
Justin admitted. He went to sit at the table where Sam indicated,
hobbling a little and massaging his thigh.

“You need some painkillers?”

“No, it’s just tight, no pain.”

Sam imagined Justin’s concept of pain was
different from his own. Although he defied anyone to pull a baking
tray from a hot oven with a thin cloth and brush it off as Sam
could. Of course he bitched and whined when blisters formed, but
he’d learned to push through that as well. Maybe it was like that
for Justin; maybe he’d been shot before and this was nothing new to
him. Another question for later.

Justin pushed the chips to one side and poked
at the sandwich.

Sam stopped eating. “Are you feeling sick
again?”

“Can we go in there?” Justin gestured to the
bedroom.

Sam picked up the food to take with them, and
Justin only seemed to relax when the door shut on them.