He made his way back to the bedroom, already unbuttoning jeans and imagining his soft pillows and the thought of warming up against Riley’s always-hot body. The sounds he heard when he opened the bedroom door were enough to have him rushing to Riley’s side. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be waking up a person in the middle of a nightmare, but he acted on that instinct that his mom had reminded him of. Gathering Riley into his arms, he held him tight even as Riley thrashed around in the hold. Jack knew he’d have bruises, but he didn’t care.
“Wake up, Riley, it’s only a dream, come on… wake up.”
As violent as the nightmare was, it appeared to let him go quickly, and he went limp in Jack’s arms. Jack reached past him and turned on the lamp and looked into damp hazel eyes that were filled with resignation.
“No excuses,” Jack said, firm and in control. “Tell me what you saw.”
Riley closed his eyes and struggled until Jack let him go. “Nothing,” he spat. “That is it. It’s nothing. I hold out my hand with the gun…” Riley extended one hand in front of him, his arm shaking imperceptibly. “Then I fire, and it’s dark, and I’m talking and shouting and there is nothing there, not even a darkness you can get used to, just nothing, and my head hurts so badly.” To underscore the last statement, Riley winced and pressed his other hand to his temple.
Jack didn’t know what to say. Instead he grasped the shaking hand and tugged Riley closer, thankful when Riley didn’t argue and instead tumbled into his hold.
“It’s okay,” Jack said over and over. “You’re home, and nothing can hurt you now.”
They lay back on the bed, and this time it was Jack with his head on Riley’s chest, listening to his husband’s heart beat slowing from its frantic chase. They fell asleep that way.
When Jack woke in middle of the night, he realized the side lamp was still on and Riley and he had moved apart in sleep. Then he saw what Riley was doing, and Jack closed his eyes again before he broke the spell of what Riley was reading.
Sean’s book.
Chapter 17
Riley took his coffee out to the fence, staring out into the distance with his head full of what he’d read in Sean’s book. He needed the caffeine—he hadn’t turned the light out until four and had read the book from cover to cover. So maybe an hours’ sleep broken by a nightmare and a meeting at ten in the city and he was screwed. At least he’d managed to get a shower and get dressed and it was the weekend, so no school runs. But he was supposed to be carrying on intelligent adult conversation with the team from Beta Four and he was losing the ability to keep his eyes open, let alone concentrate.
Not for the first time, he considered it might well be a better option to have offices on D land. Then he could just walk from door to door. It wasn’t like he was in among the backstabbing wheeling and dealing, he had staff to deal with that side of it, and Tom was proving to be an astute and trustworthy support for Riley.
What he’d read last night had gotten to him much more than he thought it would. To anyone else who didn’t know Sean, it was an in-depth look at using equine therapy in PTSD cases. Not necessarily in adults, but in children. He also wrote a lot about the connection between horses and humans, about understanding, and the whole point of the association.
Jack came to stand next to Riley, coffee in his hand and looking just as tired.
“Sorry about the nightmare and the light,” Riley said. Jack had told him it wasn’t a problem on more than one occasion, but still, it must have interrupted his sleep.
Jack leaned and kissed Riley, then slid a hand around him to hug him. “Morning,” he said. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You finish the book?”
Riley nodded. “Can I ask you something that may sound really stupid?”
Jack frowned. “Yeah.”
“Horses. And you.” How did he word this question? “Are you in tune with them? Do they…? Do you…?”
“Become attuned to each other? Yeah. I know Solo is fixed to my mental and physical state. There’s nothing like getting in the saddle pissed off only to have Solo show me in no uncertain terms that I am being a dick.”
“Maybe I should spend more time with the horses,” Riley said. He tilted his head in thought. “And I’m going to reread the book. I think I’m not processing it all.”
Jack kissed him again, and Riley felt abruptly lighter. Riley smiled, grabbed a handful of Jack’s shirt, and kissed him thoroughly. “Missed you,” he whispered into the kiss. “Sorry.”
When they parted, Jack was smiling, and even though this wasn’t done, it was a step in the right direction.
“You never have to be sorry.” Jack stopped as Max appeared at their side with his own sippy cup of juice. Riley glanced back at Carol, who watched them from the door. Only when Jack hoisted Max up to sit on the fence did Carol wave and go back in the door. “We’ll talk later,” he mumbled.
“Hey, Max,” Riley said. Max looked up at him, then away back to the house. Riley was used to the infrequent glances and the lack of words, and he snuggled in for a cuddle, which was the one way Max seemed happy to communicate. His hugs were legendary and only given out to a select few. Riley, Jack, Donna, Sandra, Carol, and Hayley all made the list. He would cling to Robbie’s legs but had begun to refuse being picked up, particularly when he was riding. He was stubborn about getting on the horse on his own, and no one stopped him. As long as he followed all the rules and was safe, it was good to encourage the independence.
One of the horses came over to the fence and nudged at Jack’s arm. Riley reached past to pat the beautiful bay mare, and Max moved at the same time. All three of them patted and fussed, and the connection was instant and right.
Maybe there was something to this therapy that Riley hadn’t understood before.
He wanted to learn.
* * * * *
Darren watched Riley and Jack from side of the house. They were talking and then their little boy—Max?—ran over to them and climbed the fence. Darren didn’t mean to stare, but he wanted some of what they had.
Hell, Darren hadn’t even come out of the closet until he was eighteen for fear of what his family would say. His dad was old-school Texan, tradition in his blood, and Darren’s brother Hank, well he’d just been an asshole. When their dad died, the ranch had become his and Hank’s, but Darren didn’t want any part of it or the homophobia or the cattle or the horses. All he wanted was numbers and education and the chance to leave and make a life for himself.
He’d been so close, then his clandestine affair with Vaughn had become public knowledge and he’d had Hank on his back, heard the hate. But he’d been packed. Ready to move away from the Bar Five and the Triple-K, ready to see if Vaughn wanted to go as well. Arizona, Montana, those places always wanted cowboys, and Vaughn was the best there was.
Then came the court case, and Vaughn had left with Jack. Darren wanted so much to grab his bags and go, but he couldn’t. Hank was in prison, and Darren Castille was the only one left to run Bar Five, or rather what remained of it after Hank had cashed in so much for his defense.
He looked down at his suit and brushed it with his hands. Today was a big day, and he had to make this work if he wanted a chance with Vaughn. He went back to the trailer and let himself in.
“Why are you in a suit?” Vaughn asked as soon as Darren stepped inside. He was still in boxers, his hair messed, his eyes heavy with lack of sleep. Darren hoped to hell his face looked healthier than his exhausted lover’s, otherwise he’d never get the job.
“It’s a long story,” Darren hedged. The story wasn’t actually that long at all.