Letting Hearts Heal (8 page)

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If he’d known it was something like that, he’d have searched the whole country until he found Mason. And his own father…. Dean shook his head slowly. That one definitely hurt too. “I’m sorry, Mase. I had no idea he was that bad. And to think that I was actually angry at you at one point.” He laughed brokenly. Everything was a mess.

“I knew neither my dad nor yours were going to tell you the truth, so I also knew you’d be mad at me. It’s just… by the time I finally realized that I’d probably hurt you more than I’d protected you, too much time had passed.”

“I don’t blame you for anything you did. I just wish I’d been here that day. And I’m not gonna lie. It’s going to be difficult coming to terms with what my dad did. We weren’t close, even though it was just the two of us. But I guess I always suspected he’d never accept me being gay or me not wanting to work with horses, and that’s why I never told him. Suspecting and knowing are two different things, though.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “What did you do after you left town? Fuck, you were just a kid and all alone.”

Mason smiled and put his hand on Dean’s thigh. It wasn’t sexual, just reassuring. “Would you believe that I actually managed quite well? I moped a lot at first, of course, missing you and worrying that I’d end up in a ditch somewhere. But then I decided to man up and just take it one day at a time.

“I hadn’t graduated high school with all this crap happening like three weeks before graduation, so finding work was difficult, sometimes. I managed, though. Worked on a few ranches, bussed tables in a diner here and there, just earning money where I could. It took me over six months, working crappy jobs, hitching rides, and swallowing my pride, but I ended up in Manhattan.”

Dean frowned. “I can’t picture you in the big city.”

“No?” Mason chuckled. “I actually liked it there.”

“Why New York?” Mason had never talked about the city—he was all about horses, fresh air, and Montana pride. Dean felt like he was hearing the story of a different Mason than the one he thought he knew.

“My birth certificate said I’d been born there. I had this fantasy that I’d go find my birth mother, and we’d have ourselves a reunion.”

“Did you find her?”

Mason nodded. “I’ll tell you some other time when I haven’t just ruined your dad’s memory, but don’t hold your breath for a happy ending.”

“Seems to me you cleared it up rather than ruined it,” Dean said with a sigh. “And I appreciate you telling me the truth.”

They sat in silence for a while. Dean’s mind was running in circles and the need to be alone was only kept at bay by the feeling of Mason’s hand on his thigh. Eventually the emotional evening and the need for sleep won out. Dean bid Mason a quiet good night, wishing he had more profound words to share. Once in bed sleep did not come for a long time, though.

M
ASON
SLEPT
like the dead. He woke up long before his mind did, and he was so out of it that he nearly walked into the doorframe on his way to the bathroom. Apparently letting go of long overdue secrets did wonders for your sleep. Mason couldn’t even remember when he’d last woken from a nightmare full of flames and rejection. It had been more than a week.

“Morning,” he squeaked—his voice was apparently still sleeping—and then coughed when he entered the kitchen.

“Good morning,” the Walker boys chorused, looking annoyingly cheery and as if they’d been on a coffee IV for hours. Mason figured he’d need at least one cup of something strong and black before he would like Dean and Wyatt again.

As he sipped the coffee Dean poured him, he realized that Dean wasn’t as cheerful as he appeared. Dark rings under his eyes showed that he hadn’t gotten even a fraction of the sleep Mason had managed.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Dean asked and put a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon and peas in front of Wyatt.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question, boss?”

Dean turned his back and returned to the stove. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Sorry. But still.”

“You seem perfectly able to find stuff to do without me micromanaging,” Dean replied. “I was just asking because I have a meeting, and if you could watch Wyatt, I’d save him a four-hour drive, which I’m sure he’d appreciate.”

“Of course I can.” Mason winked at Wyatt. “We’ll throw a party, trash the house, and get drunk.”

Wyatt giggled, and even Dean managed a small chuckle. “Thanks, Mase.”

Dean left soon after breakfast, and by then Mason was finally fully awake. He and Wyatt went outside. First they had a little snowball fight, which Wyatt won. Then they helped pack the vegetable boxes.

Mason enjoyed the day. It was fun to spend time with Wyatt—much more fun than Mason ever suspected a four-year old could be. Perhaps they bonded because they were both a little lost and in need of a friend, but the reason didn’t seem important when Mason was able to coax smiles from Wyatt’s little serious face.

“Will Daddy be back for dinner?”

Mason shrugged. “Don’t know, kiddo. He didn’t know how long his meeting would be.”

“If he doesn’t come back for dinner, will you make pea pizza again?”

Mason would rather have a toenail pulled off with tweezers than cook dinner. “You like that, huh?”

Wyatt nodded and patted his stomach. “Yup.”

“We’ll have to give Daddy the recipe.”

“But you’ll make it, right?” Wyatt fidgeted nervously, as if it were a much more serious matter than dinner.

“Of course.” Mason braved a smile although it was the last thing he felt like doing. He’d probably jump off a tall building if Wyatt asked. Mason hoped he wouldn’t ask. And before cooking, he needed to calm himself down. “How about we go say hello to the horses?”

“Yay. I like the horsies.”

Mason smiled. “Me too. Did you know that this ranch used to be filled with horses?”

Wyatt’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yep. Your grandpa had lots and lots of horses.”

“Why did they go away?”

Mason winced. How to get himself out of that one? “Your daddy likes having all kinds of animals better. And growing vegetables. It’s nice to have your own peas in the polytunnel, right?”

Wyatt nodded seriously. “And there are still horsies.”

“That’s right.” Dean was a genius that way.

D
EAN
WAS
aware that he probably shouldn’t be driving when he was so preoccupied. After a sleepless night, he’d managed to get through breakfast by letting the vibrancy of Wyatt and Mason’s company push away the dark thoughts. Alone in his car on the road to a meeting two hours away from the ranch, however, he was trapped with them.

The meeting would normally just have been a phone call, but he needed the time alone to think. Dean was expanding the business and hiring two new drivers to cover the new territory. He’d met them both when they came to the ranch for a tour and instructions. These last minute details didn’t have to be handled in person. And many times during the long drive he regretted going. There was such a thing as too much time to think, and he quickly realized that he wasn’t going to get any revelations about his relationship with his father. Dean would never know what might have happened if he’d told his dad that he was gay and that he was turning the horse ranch into something else. He’d just have to accept that the old man probably wouldn’t have liked it, just like he’d have to accept that his own father had ruined his relationship with Mason. It more than stung.

Dean hit his closed fist against the steering wheel and cursed. So much for the rosy red dream that he might have made his father proud.

The meeting took five minutes. Dean had to lie to his new guys about having other stuff to take care of out that way or he’d have looked like an idiot driving so far for practically nothing. It was enough that he felt like an idiot, he didn’t have to look like one.

On the way back he tried to think of something else—like Thanksgiving coming up. He’d have to cook turkey for the first time. He wasn’t much of a cook, but lately he’d been trying harder, for Wyatt’s sake. Sure, the kid would be happy as a lark if he got a bowl of peas for every meal. But Dean knew he was a crappy enough dad as it was. He might as well try to feed his son to the best of his ability. Wyatt also needed new clothes. The stuff he’d come with was already getting a bit too short and tight. It was amazing how fast kids grew.

And then there was Mason. Dean didn’t know what Mason needed, but he wished he could give him something that would put the carefree smile from their teenage years back on his face. A new shirt and a pair of pants probably wouldn’t fix
that
problem.

When Dean came home, he drove past the ranch house and down the narrow dirt road to Joe’s small house. The road was plowed just wide enough for the truck to get through.

Joe’s shy and timid wife, Anna, was on the porch. Dean had never really gotten to know her, even though she’d lived on the ranch for more than thirty years. She hurried inside when she saw Dean’s truck. She was a funny one, but Dean had always respected her privacy. He rarely went to their house and usually just called Joe to meet him somewhere else.

Joe came out as Dean parked next to the rust bucket that Joe insisted was the best and most reliable truck in the world.

“This is a surprise. I thought you were out for the day.” Joe grinned as if he knew there was no reason for Dean’s meeting.

“I was. And now I’m back.” Dean took a deep breath. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“I’ve got plenty of minutes. Come on inside.”

“We can go somewhere else if you prefer.”

Joe shook his head. “No. It’s fine.”

Dean followed the older man inside. Anna slipped by them with a shy smile and went back out on the porch.

“She’s hanging up the lights. Always does around Thanksgiving,” Joe said and took a seat in the small but cozy kitchen. It smelled like coffee and cinnamon.

“Another thing to put on my list.” Mason sighed. “I’m sure Wyatt would enjoy Christmas lights.”

“Kids always do. So what do we have to talk about?”

“Dad.” Dean traced a finger over the worn table top. “Mason told me some things about him.”

Joe nodded slowly. “I see. And now you’re questioning everything you thought you knew about your father?”

“Not really. I just….” Dean stood up and started pacing in the small kitchen. “I don’t know what to think, Joe. He fired Mason and threw him out because he’s gay. That fucking hurts. You know, I used to think that Dad might have been proud of what I’m doing with the ranch if he’d known and had some time to get used to the idea.”

“Your father was a complex man.”

“Was he really, though? He never spoke a pleasant word about anyone when he’d had a drink. He’d even get slightly racist. Mom dying made him bitter as hell, I think. I don’t remember her, but in the few pictures I have of the three of us, she and Dad are laughing. When did you ever hear Dad laugh? He liked being the king around here. Fuck. And to think I’ve regretted not telling him that I was gay and that I wasn’t passionate about horse breeding. He’d have thrown me out too.”

“He probably would have, yes,” Joe agreed. “And then he might have reconsidered because appearances were mighty important to him. I don’t know what to tell you, son. Sometimes, mostly when you were away at college and he’d get lonely, he’d get so drunk that I had to either drive him home from town or make sure he got from his office to his bedroom without falling over. He’d be so drunk that he let things slip out that he normally wouldn’t have shared with me. And sometimes he talked about Mason.”

Dean whirled around midpace. “You knew?”

“Your father’s version, yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean fumed. Was there no one he could trust?

Joe sighed. “And what would you have done if I’d told you? Mason had been gone for years by then, and you’d stopped moping. Your dad’s view hadn’t changed any.”

“I’d have known. God, Joe. I can’t believe this.”

“If you want my advice, then I’d leave the past, and the dead, in the past, and focus on the present.”

“You still should have told me.” Dean sat down on the chair and rubbed his palms over his face. The admission that he’d known—deep down—that the only real explanation for Mason’s disappearance was that his father had played dirty was hard to swallow. It had always been easier to wonder than to face the truth about himself and about his father.

“Maybe you’re right. I’d like to think that we’re friends, you and I. But you have to remember that I worked for your dad for more than thirty years. And he was a lot of things, some of which you’ve just mentioned. But he was my friend too. And more than that, I saw no gain in telling you. You’ve had enough on your plate, Dean, and I wouldn’t be doing my job as foreman if I didn’t try to ease your burden.”

“Work burden,” Dean muttered.

“Son, I respect you as I’ve respected few other men in my life, and you’re ten times smarter than I’ve ever dreamed of being. But you don’t know how to separate business and pleasure. You throw your heart and soul into what you believe in, whether it’s personal or the ranch. So it’s a moot point.”

“You really got my number, don’t you?”

Joe chuckled. “I should hope so. I met you when you were two days old and I’ve known you ever since. And I hope you’ll trust that I did what I thought was best for you.”

“I know, Joe. I know.” Dean was feeling the restless night catching up with him and wished he could go to sleep right there in Joe’s kitchen. The chair wasn’t
that
uncomfortable.

“You don’t owe your dad or his dad anything when it comes to how you live your life. Just because they bred horses and married women doesn’t mean that you should feel bad for doing something different. Hell, it probably makes you braver and stronger than them. But the point is that you owe yourself to be happy. And that’s it.”

“And that’s it….” Dean repeated under his breath. Joe was right, of course, but saying it was free. Actually doing it was harder. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll think about what you’ve said. I’m sorry for interrupting your afternoon. Anna is probably freezing outside, so I’m gonna go.”