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jackson

T he Hope in Healing Clinic was a one-floor building in a small town that rivaled Wood Springs’ tiny size. The town was about an hour outside of Olympia, meaning I had to rent a car after flying to Washington. Driving for that long wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but for West, I had no problem doing so.

For almost seven months, West and I exchanged dozens of letters. Some were long and extensive, sharing deep things neither of us ever had the chance or courage to bring up, while others were simpler and to the point. Despite the distance between us, I felt closer to him than I had in a long time. The way he peeled back the curtain and showed me parts of him that he’d never been able to before was something special.

I leaned on my cane as I stared at the unassuming building. It felt a little surreal that after all this time, I was about to see West again. A small part of me was worried. What if he’d changed so much that we didn’t fit together anymore? I knew I’d let him go in a heartbeat if it made him happy. I wasn’t about to pull him back into his own darkness, but the idea of losing him all over again hurt .

“You must be Jackson.” A middle-aged woman opened the front door, standing and holding it open for me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. Leaning on my cane for support, I limped toward her. The ride over had fucked with my hip, making it harder than usual to walk. Still, I was fucking determined.

“My name is Elizabeth,” she told me. She stepped aside to make it easier for me to get inside. “I’m the clinic coordinator. We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

I nodded, not sure how to respond to that. I knew West talked about us in therapy. I just had no idea how far all that knowledge traveled in a clinic this small.

“This way, but take your time.” She gestured down a hall as she walked alongside me and matched my pace. “We have a few rules here at Hope that we ask our visitors to also follow. It creates a safer atmosphere for our patients.”

“Of course.”

“We ask that you don’t swear.” Ah, fuck. I hated that rule already. I’d follow it without question or argument, but fuck, I hated it. “And we know that physical contact is a way to express affection, but we ask that you refrain from all physical contact with West while with the group.”

Well, he didn’t like being touched anyway. Besides, I wasn’t real sure where he and I stood on our relationship. That wasn’t something we talked about. We were close—closer than friends—but that was it. Everything else was up in the air.

“I can do that,” I told her. I wouldn’t fuck this up for West.

“I’ll have you wait in this room right here,” Elizabeth said, stopping at a door. “We let our patients visit with their guests here before the party starts. As long as the door is closed, we allow things like hugs and whatnot. We know it’s an important aspect of reunions. So, I’m going to leave you here while I go and fetch West for you.”

“Thank you,” I replied and wandered into the room as she left me alone.

The room was comfortable with a soft couch and an oversized chair. There were blankets everywhere, and the lighting was soft and warm. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was one of the rooms where West talked through things. It looked like the kind of room that would make therapy easier .

Minutes passed slowly and I occupied myself with trying to find a comfortable way to stand. I considered sitting, but I knew I wouldn’t get back up anytime soon if I did.

“Hey, cowboy.” That voice. The sound of it sent my heart soaring long before I ever turned around. West stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets as he watched me. An easy, brilliant smile lit up his handsome face—something I’d never seen on him. There was life in those gray eyes, genuine and vibrant. His hair was longer but styled while his beard was trimmed short. He looked happy and healthy, put together and comfortable in his skin.

And he wore a pale yellow dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos. No one would ever pull off yellow the way West did. That much I was convinced of.

Closing the door, he crossed the room and hugged me. I returned the gesture, holding on tight as I lost myself in the moment. He no longer smelled like horses—a fact I sort of missed—and instead, a light, spicy musk clung to his skin.

“You look good,” I whispered when he finally pulled away.

“I feel good,” West replied with another heart-stopping smile. God, what a fucking sight that smile was. He nodded at my cane, teasing, “And someone thought weaponizing you was a smart idea?”

“I don’t need it,” I lied. “I just like threatening people with it.”

“Sounds about right.” He laughed—the sound so damn real it took me by surprise. “How are you doing? Honestly?”

“I’m okay. Some days are worse than others, but I can get around just fine.”

“Good. And today? You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, West,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied. “Up for another walk?”

“Lead the way.” Yeah, I’d still follow West anywhere. All it took was one look to know that much was a fact.