STETSON USED up the final bit of the wood to build a fire for Curtis’s last day here at the ranch.
It was colder than a witch’s tit, and he’d left Momma sleeping so he could get the feeding done early. He didn’t want to miss a bit of the time they had left.
It had been the best week in recent memory—riding and laughing, a couple of beers, and lots of loving and touching.
The absolute best.
It had almost felt real. Good thing he knew better.
Curtis padded out from the hall, sweats riding low on his hips, bare upper body sheened with a little sweat from all the push-ups and sit-ups he’d been doing. “Hey, a fire? Smells amazing.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d use up that old wood. It’s a mite chilly.”
“It is. I’ll be freezing once I stop sweating.” Curtis came to him, leaning against his back, burrowing both hands under his jacket.
He managed not to start, but he knew Curtis felt his muscles jumping and shuddering under that chilly touch. “Be-be careful, now. Mine are like blocks of ice.”
“Oh, payback!” Curtis kissed the back of his neck.
“You all packed for tomorrow?” He was gonna miss Curtis like a lost tooth. He’d forgotten what it felt like to not be lonely. He sure as shit would be regretting that come the morning.
“Mostly, yeah. Do I need to help feed the dogs or anything?”
“Nope. It’s all done. All you have to do is sit with me awhile.” Just come and act like this ain’t the last bit of wood, like you won’t be gone tomorrow, and like I won’t be sitting there in the home tomorrow, listening to Momma call me by Daddy’s name. Like once you leave, you’ll be well and truly gone.
“I can so do that.” Curtis grabbed a sweatshirt off the recliner, then tugged it on.
He shrugged off his coat, checked the fire, then went to sit with Curtis on the couch, snuggling close.
“Hey.” Curtis kissed his chin, then his cheek. “Bristly. I wish I could stay, you know.”
“I know.” Liar. “It’s the Finals. You have to go.” He would go if he could.
“I do. I could—” Curtis bit his lip, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say.
“I have to stay. You have to go. Momma and I will be watching you ride, just like always.”
“Always?” Curtis gave him the raised eyebrow look. “Well, now. I was gonna say I want to come back for Christmas. I just don’t want to put a burden on you.”
“I always watch you ride.” A slow panic began to fill him. A burden? How did…. Curtis couldn’t know how truly bad it was, right?
“I love that.” Curtis leaned. “I mean, Christmas has to be tough. With Momma. I don’t want you to feel like you have to let me come stay and deal with all your other stuff. I can help with feedings and all.”
“I want you here.” He wouldn’t have the ranch next Christmas. This would be the old place’s last hurrah, so why not make it a good one, with laughter and hot sex and even hotter posole on Christmas Eve.
“Then I’ll come on as soon as the Finals are over. Do you want…. Should I bring a little tree?”
“Surely. We’ll have a grand holiday.”
“We will.” Curtis was all smiles now, that famous cowboy mug wreathed in them. “Do you remember the first time I came to stay here?”
Stetson nodded. Curtis had gotten stepped on, right where it hurt, and Stetson had brought him home. He didn’t have to worry about Momma accusing them of getting into something because all of Curtis’s bits were bruised and broken. “I thought the drive was going to kill you.”
“You’re not the only one. Your mom had all these faith healers coming in.”
“And that lady that drew on your cast.” Stetson started laughing, and that was good, because he didn’t think he had any laughs left.
“I’d never seen a ranch look like this. Never seen so many animals with so little grass.”
“It’s our way. Where are you staying in Vegas?” Stetson was desperately curious about the things he couldn’t glean from the broadcast.
“Off strip. One of those places with the shuttle and the cheap-ass buffet. I get more sleep that way.”
“Ah. Good deal.” He felt like a bumpkin these days, which was mostly okay, because they all were. Everybody was hurting; everybody was broke-dick and running cattle through the dirt. Curtis had told him, all those years ago, that he’d hoped that holding on to the ranch was worth it. God, he didn’t know how to answer that anymore. “I hope you have a good event.”
“Me too. I’ve been having a good year. It would suck to fall down now.” Curtis stroked his arm. “I wish you could come. I know, I know. If wishes were horses….”
“I can’t leave Momma. Not now.” She was fading fast. Hell, he wasn’t sure she’d be with him by Christmas. He wouldn’t leave her to do this alone.
“I know. I worry I’ve taken too much time.” Curtis sighed. “I’m so sorry, babe. You know that, right? She’s a fine lady.”
“It’s time. This ain’t living. Not really. Not at all.”
Curtis just hugged him close, not saying nothin’ else. What was there to say about Momma?
Not a fucking thing. It wasn’t fair and not much was, the end.
He leaned on Curtis and listened to the pinyon knots popping in the fireplace. Fair or not, he had this right now. This very moment was damned good.
“It’ll be okay, honey. I’ll ride and then I’ll be back for Christmas.”
He patted Curtis’s leg. “Don’t worry on me. I can hold down the fort, no stress.”
After all, he’d been doing it for a lot of years. What was a couple of weeks if he got to spend another holiday with this man he loved so much?
“It’s good to have someplace to come. Thank you.” Curtis said it softly, but he thought it was true.
“Glad you came out.” He looked at their fingers, loving how they looked twined together—a pair of scarred, tore up, tanned men just holding on in a world that liked to drown them as well as buoy them. “You’re the good in a whole passel of crap.”
“Am I?” Curtis’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Roper. I want to be. I want to help.”
“You do. You are. Whatever. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Curtis hummed a little, and he thought it was a Christmas song.
He let it warm him. The ranch was fixin’ to be cold tomorrow.