THE WIND was howling, the rain barely starting to hit the Jeep. Come on. Come on. Shane was so fucking tired it hurt—bone-deep. He’d been on the road since 2:00 a.m., and the weather had held at windy and drizzly, up to about dark on the other side.
Then all hell had started to break loose. Fucking weather.
Fucking storm.
Fucking Florida.
Fucking Galen.
Goob and Khan were howling to beat the band, the Jeep was getting blown all over the goddamn road, and he needed to get home—get the lanterns set up and the windows covered and….
It was still home, damn it, and he needed to get her stormworthy.
Shane pulled down the gravel road toward the bait shop, howling along with Goob and Khan, which was way fucking better than screaming at them to shut the fuck up.
Home.
They knew, though. Knew they were almost home. How the hell dogs knew this shit…. Fuck, that twisted cypress almost took him out, crashing right off to the side of the Jeep.
“Jesus.” He wanted to stop, but he knew if he did, he’d just be fucked, so he floored it. The Jeep vibrated, tires jittering on the wet gravel. Goddamn it. Come on. Come on. Just a few minutes more.
The sound of his tires squealing in mud almost made him cry out in rage. He was so….
Whoa. The outside floodlights were on.
Goddamn it. Nobody better be squatting in the house. He’d kick their asses.
He managed to get the Jeep to the bait shop, and then he gave up. Hell, he needed plywood anyway.
Yeah.
Plywood.
“Y’all get your hairy asses into the house. Right now. If there’s a stranger, Khan, bite their balls off.”
Khan and Goob took off, their howling turning to high-pitched barks of joy. Oh. Maybe it was someone they knew, coming out to check on the house. Maybe Wade decided to dock the boat. Shane headed to the bait shop and grabbed one of the boxes of camping gear and….
Dude.
Where was the toolbox?
“Shane? Shane! Is that you, darlin’?” The light from one of the lanterns cut a swathe through the storm, and damned if that didn’t sound like… Galen.
“Len?” Oh. Oh shit. He didn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t ready to.
Shit.
“Shane. Come help me board up the last two windows. And get the damned dogs inside before the gators get them.”
Okay. Okay, he could handle all-business Galen.
He didn’t answer, just slid the gear across the porch and went to help, getting one board up before getting the dogs in and heading back for the Jeep to get his shit and the pups’ dishes.
Wait.
Maybe he should just go.
Maybe he….
The rain started coming harder, hitting fast enough that it stung his skin, drenching him, just like that.
Fuck.
Galen appeared out of the rain and dragged him toward the house, all wet and bare skin and… Len.
“I….” Jesus, the man looked good. So fucking good.
They ran hard, the tree branches slapping the living shit out of them, the wind swirling around them, trying to knock them off their feet. Christ.
Christ.
“Shane! The back door! It’s not boarded yet. Help me get it shut.” It was banging back and forth, the dogs in the kitchen, barking at it like crazy.
“Okay. Okay.” Together they managed to get the door shut, the glass shattering, sprinkling them and the kitchen. Shane braced himself against the door, face turned away from the shit blowing in, sticking in his skin. The fucking wind sounded like a freight train, just headed straight for them. “Get me a board!”
“Got it!” They worked like a real team, just like they always had. Just like Galen didn’t mean to leave him all washed up.
It didn’t matter. They had to save the house. And the dogs.
He was keeping both of the fucking dogs, no matter what.
Damn it.
They fought the storm, both of them grunting and groaning, cussing up a storm of their own. Then the board finally fit into place, the last nail going in, and the fury suddenly became muted, the wind not so close, so immediate.
Galen stared at him, those dark eyes so serious, so careful. He just stared back a second, not knowing what the fuck to say.
Hey, Galen. Came back to save the house you’re selling?
Hey, Len. Left you, but I worry, so I drove all night.
How’s the football business, stranger?
None of that worked even a little.
“I better get the glass up. The pups’ll get into it.” Good. That was good. Business. Broom.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll corral them in the master bath. No windows.” Galen dragged both dogs off, howling and whining. The dogs. Not Galen. Galen was eerily silent.
He swept and filled up both sinks with water, trying his damnedest not to look at the fucking answering machine. Christ, he was tired.
And there was glass all in his shirt.
The sound of the fridge opening and closing made him jump. Galen handed him a beer, smiling a little. “Hey, darlin’. Perfect timing.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that old cypress went as I came in.” He popped the top, sucked the beer down, the cold hitting his empty stomach with a splash.
“I heard it.” The man stared hard at him, looking tired and worn. Unshaven, bags under his eyes, all pasty; Galen looked beautiful. “Been trying to call you.”
“Yeah. I didn’t have my phone on.” He just stood there, trying to get his brain to do something. “I don’t like them much, those phones.”
“I know. I just needed to tell you what happened, Shane. I was starting to figure you’d never want to hear it ’til I talked to Momma.” One long step forward brought Galen right to him, hands landing on his shoulders.
“I….” He took a deep breath, just breathed in the scent of rain and Galen and home, let it fill him up for a second. “This is a bad idea, Galen. I’m real tired. I don’t know if I can deal with shit right now.”
Not when he was feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.
“Shane? Honey, look at me. I want you to know one thing before I feed you and put you to bed, okay?” Look at that man. So much like his momma. Those eyes were just the same. “Frank was lying.”
“Why?” That didn’t make any sense. Of course, none of this made any sense. “Are y’all? I mean, does he want…?” Shane sighed, shook his head, just sick with it. “Fuck this. I’m going to bed. I’ll sleep in Momma’s room, if you want, but I’m going to bed.”
“No, I don’t want you to sleep in Momma’s bed!” Galen shook him a little. “This is all my fucking fault. But I want you, darlin’. So bad.” Len pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, just holding on like the man was never gonna let go.
“You’re gonna get glass on you.” He leaned hard, nuzzling Galen’s shoulder, telling himself to just stop, to just step away. He couldn’t, though. He loved the stupid son of a bitch. Always had.
“I don’t care.” Kissing his cheek, Galen led him back toward the bedroom. Which was all candlelit and boarded up like Fort Knox and… somehow safe. “Get changed and cleaned up, darlin’. I’ll get some soup.”
Shane nodded, heading in to wash his face, strip down, and put on something dry. Goob and Khan watched him the whole time, tails still, ears held low. “It’s okay, guys. It’ll be okay.”
One way or the other. That’s what Momma’d say.
He got his shorts on and plopped down into the bed.
“You feel better? Get the glass off?” Len came in with biscuits for the pups and canned chicken soup and iced tea for them. It all seemed so normal that he wanted to scream.
“Yeah.” He sat there, stared at his hands. He’d never left anyone before, much less come back. Well, he’d left Galen once, but that hadn’t worked out all that well, had it?
Christ, his head hurt.
“Shane? The storm isn’t gonna blow out anytime soon. I’ll keep watch. You get some sleep.” Those broad shoulders slumped, and Galen patted him on the arm before putting the tray of soup and all on the nightstand. “You need anything, you holler. Okay?”
“Okay.” God, he wanted to apologize; he wanted to push into Galen’s arms and just take a kiss. “You… for once you picked a bad time to come home, huh? Weather’s for shit.”
“No, I got home just in time.” Galen shrugged. “At least I hope I did. But you need to rest. You’re in no place to hear what I want to say. I just…. Please just say you’ll listen when you’re feeling better?”
“Have I ever not?” A little flare of anger caught him, just a little one. “I’m the idiot who’s been waiting around for you.”
“I know. I know that.” That wasn’t shouting. Not really, but he could tell Len was on the very edge of it. Fine tremors shook Galen’s hands. “I’m sorry, Shane. I know I’m an asshole, and you got no reason to stay around. But I love you.”
“Stop it.” He stood up, head pounding, beer hitting him like a ton of bricks. “I don’t. I mean, you just go and you got all these people and all this stuff that’s important, and I’m a fucking suds-puller, and I got nothing to give you, and then there’s Wade, and… I don’t want to just stay here and get old and shit and wait for you to decide you don’t want me.”
Christ, he’d got diarrhea of the mouth.
“Shane.” That agonized look tore at him. “I quit. I’ve got my lawyer ending the contract now. I’m not going back to work with Frank. I came home for you. And. Jesus. You weren’t here. I don’t ever want to do that again.” Len was on him again, right in front of him, hands hovering over his shoulders, like the man was afraid to touch him.
“I couldn’t. Wade keeps asking what’s wrong with me and—what?” Quit?
“Wade can’t have you.” This time Len did touch him, gripping his upper arms. “You hear? And Frank can’t tell you I’m selling the house. Shit, darlin’. I asked him to do me one favor. He was supposed to just get us an agent to do some investments…. Lying sack of shit. No wonder you hated his ass.”
“He’s nasty. I told you that.” Investments. Investments. Shane’s knees buckled. Oh fuck. He was a fucking idiot.
Len caught him, easing down to the bed and pulling him down so he sat on Galen’s lap. “I’m sorry. I know…. When you called me. I should have talked—” The boards on the window bowed in, two of the candles blowing out.
“Jesus.” He looked around, shook his head. “You think we need more boards?”
This fucking storm was kicking ass. This wasn’t no small tropical storm. This was a real hurricane.
“I think we might.” Shaking his head, Galen stood him up and moved around the room, checking their defenses.
“Okay.” He grabbed his flip-flops. “I’ll grab what I can. You watch the dogs so they don’t get out.”
“You be careful,” Galen said, giving him a hard look. “I want your ass in one piece, darlin’. I mean it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. You stay in here with the dogs.” He headed out the side door to the covered porch, the debris just slamming everywhere. Jesus. Jesus, he’d never make the fucking shop. Shane figured he’d give it a try, though, dropping as low as he could and heading around the side of the house.
Galen’s big hand fell on his shoulder, yanking him back. “The dogs are in the bathroom! The tools are up front. I’ll get the boards.” The wind took Galen’s voice and shredded it like paper, the sound bouncing crazily.
“You ain’t going without me!” No way. No. Fucking. Way.
Galen stared at him for maybe two seconds, but it seemed like an hour. Then he got a sharp nod, a hard, stunning kiss, and a wild grin. “Come on, darlin’! It’ll be a hell of a ride!”
His own grin answered Galen’s, without him even wanting it to, and his fingers slid into the dark hand offered over to him. Goddamn, he had lost his mind.
They made a run for it, the storm tearing at them, even Galen’s strength no match for it. They staggered to the shed, the fury of it all actually driving them to their knees once.
Soaked, sore—they just stood there, panting, dripping. “We can’t stay here. It’s getting worse.”
“I know. Don’t know how we’re gonna get the boards up. Maybe the cart? That way they’re flat down. We’ll get less resistance.” Galen was looking around, a big old bruise coming up by his eye where something had hit him.
“Drag ’em on the ground, yeah? That wind gets under the edge, we’re fucked.” He winced as glass broke, deeper in the shop. “We can’t stay here, Galen.”
“We got to go. Grab the edge of that stack and we’ll haul. Hell, if you have to, you sit on them and I’ll pull.” Nodding, Galen grabbed his side of the wood, waiting on him.
“Keep your head down.” He grabbed hold, saying a little prayer for stupid assholes and goofball dogs.
“You too.” That was it. They charged out, determined as all fuck. Jesus, she was blowing like a two-dollar whore in a back seat.
It felt like the fucking wind was biting him, taking chunks out of his arms and legs. They pulled and tugged, losing the top two boards. They had a near miss right at the back door, one of the windows bowing in against the board, then shattering out, shrapnel flying every which way. Christ.
Galen gave one last mighty heave, and the boards slid right up on the back porch. “Get the door, Shane!”
“Got it!” They got the door open and slammed shut again. “This is fucked.”
That wind wasn’t natural, damn it.
“No shit. Okay, you take the one in the kitchen that just busted out. I’ll get the bedroom.” All business suddenly. Of course, Galen hated getting all bruised. Like that was Shane’s job or something.
He headed for the kitchen, arms heavy as fuck. Jesus. He was moving to fucking Idaho.
Or Iowa.
Or some weirdassed vowel-starting state without hurricanes.
The hammer fought him, the nails flying like buzzing bees. But he finally got it, and man, two layers of boards made it easier.
When it was up, he just sat.
Hard.
There wasn’t a piece of him that didn’t fucking hurt. In fact, this piece of floor worked just fine for him, napping-wise.
“Hey, darlin’. Come on. The bedroom’s pretty safe now.” Galen lifted him gently, pulling him along.
“Huh?” He blinked, legs moving without his brain following.
“Bed. We just need to bunker down.” They moved through the hall, listening to the house groan.
“’Kay.” He nodded, a scared sickness, deep in his belly. “I wish you’d’ve stayed up north. You’d’ve been safe with that son of a bitch there.”
“No. I had to come home and find you.” Those dark eyes looked almost wild, Galen hopped up on adrenaline.
“Yeah. Yeah, I kinda get that.” Because the thought of Galen here in this alone? Sucked rocks.
Galen kissed him again, tasting like saltwater and swamp, which was kinda gross. But not, because it was Galen. “Let’s get some rest, darlin’. Like you wanted. Then we can talk.”
“Yeah.” He pulled Galen down onto the bed—gross or not—because God damn it, he needed to hold the bastard.
Needed to.
Len settled right in, holding him so tight it made him sweat. Looked like he wasn’t the only one who wanted to feel that they were right there. Together.
It wasn’t all right, but it wasn’t all wrong, and Shane took it and held tight.
Just like his heart wanted him to.