Page 23 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Twenty-One

Zeeb was out of the bunkhouse before he’d had his first cup of coffee, clutching the bag containing Nate’s breakfast. The rest of the hands were only just stirring.

I hope he’s okay.

It had been a night of restlessness and thoughts that had plagued him. More than once, he’d resisted the urge to drive to the cabin.

And do what? Watch him sleep?

Robert was right. A little space was called for.

As he approached the rear of the cabin, cold spread outward from his core.

His car isn’t there. It hadn’t been in its usual spot by the barn either.

Zeeb got out and hurried around to the front porch. The door wasn’t locked, and when he entered, it became obvious the place was empty. Nate’s stuff was still there, however.

Something is wrong.

He got back in his truck and headed for the bunkhouse, his heart racing. He gave himself a mental kicking for not following his instincts.

Damn fool. Anyone with eyes could’ve seen something wasn’t right.

Cold panic rose, thick enough to seize his throat.

Where are you, Nate?

He was doing better, sure, but there was still a shitload of stuff in that guy’s head that Zeeb had no idea of.

Then call him, you doof.

Zeeb parked the truck, and as he pulled his phone from his pocket, a message popped up from Robert.

Meet me at the bunkhouse.

He grabbed the bag and hurried over there. The boss stood outside, talking with Teague.

“Nate isn’t at the cabin,” Zeeb blurted as he drew nearer. “His car’s gone too.”

Teague gave Robert a nod before walking away. Robert sighed. “I know. I had a call from Derek. He’s at home with his dad, but he’ll be coming back later today once he’s slept.”

Zeeb gaped. “What is he doin’ back in Boise? Why did he leave? An’ why didn’t he tell a goddamn soul he was going there?”

What hurt most was Zeeb had come to believe he and Nate had a connection.

An’ then he goes and does this.

Maybe their connection wasn’t worth shit.

Robert frowned. “You remember what Dave was talking about yesterday? A young man who’d committed suicide, from Dave’s hometown?

” Zeeb nodded. “Well, it turns out Nate knew him. From what Derek says, Nate must have left Salvation right after we saw him last. He drove to Oregon to talk to the guy’s parents. ”

“He went to Oregon , just to talk to them?”

Robert nodded. “Except confront is a more apt description. Whatever he had to say must have been important. He ended up in a police cell. They let him go, and Derek took him home. Apparently Nate is adamant he’s coming back here.”

“Nate must’ve thought a lot about this guy to do something like that,” Zeeb mused. “An’ confront them about what?”

“Derek didn’t say.” Robert’s expression grew solemn. “But what I want to stress to you is that when Nate shows up, don’t press him for details. If he wants to talk, fine. If not, you keep right on doing what you did before.”

“I hear ya.”

Robert met his gaze. “By the way, Derek thinks whatever we’re doing here is working. That’s the only reason he’s letting Nate return. He thinks we’ve made a difference.” He smiled. “Except I should say you’ve made a difference.”

His praise took the edge off Zeeb’s hurt.

“Zeeb, you got a minute?” Sol strode across the gravel toward them.

Robert smiled. “And now I’ll go have breakfast with Toby.” He tipped his hat at Zeeb, then turned and headed for the path to the house.

Sol joined him. “You and I need to talk.”

He frowned. “Sounds kinda serious. Can it wait until I’ve grabbed some coffee?”

Sol chuckled. “Sure. I’m not going to get between a cowboy and his first dose of caffeine. Bring me some, would you?”

“You got it.” Zeeb gestured to the paddock. “We can talk over by the fence.” Then he went into the bunkhouse.

He had a feeling whatever was coming right at him would be better with coffee inside him.

A minute later, armed with two cups, he ambled over to the paddock railing where Sol watched Paul with Lightning. Zeeb handed over the coffee, then rested his arms on the rail.

“Okay. What’s up?”

Sol said nothing for a moment. He sipped his coffee, staring out at the horizon. Finally he sighed. “I feel bad about yesterday. At the time I felt Robert had the right idea, that Nate needed some alone time.”

“We weren’t to know he’d drive off like that.”

Sol’s brow furrowed. “But it’s my job to recognize the signs, and I blew it.”

“Sol, you’re not makin’ much sense. What signs?”

Sol lapsed into silence, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. “Do you recall what Dave said yesterday? Before Nate left?”

Zeeb searched his memory. “Something about how that guy’s parents should be ashamed of themselves, that’s all. I wasn’t really listening.”

“Well, I was.” Sol’s eyes glinted. “He mentioned something being cruel, even torture, and how it was banned in some states but not in others. Dave said whatever it was had been banned in Oregon nine years ago, so I went and did a little digging.” The furrows in Sol’s brow deepened.

“I haven’t spoken to Dave, but if I were to guess, I’d say he was talking about conversion therapy. ”

Zeeb frowned. “I’ve heard about that. Isn’t that where they take kids who might be gay an’ try to pray the gay away?”

“In some cases, that’s all it is.” Sol grimaced. “Unfortunately, there are places where they do a lot more than pray.”

That cold was back, crawling over his skin in an insidious tide.

“You think Nate’s been through something like that?”

“It would explain a lot. Why he’s been in therapy. Why his dad mentioned trauma. Why he finds it difficult to be around people, to trust them.”

“Holy fuck.”

Sol was right. It would explain a great deal.

He nodded. “Which is why I don’t want you to put any pressure on Nate when he gets here. If he wants to talk about it, then fine. Be there for him. Listen to him. Call me if you need backup, providing Nate’s okay with that.”

Zeeb huffed. “Robert’s just said the exact same thing.”

Sol’s shoulders relaxed. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

“Sol… do I need to know what kinda things go on at these places?” Because right then, the thought of anyone subjecting Nate to abuse or pain made Zeeb’s blood boil.

Those fucking bastards.

Sol shook his head. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing. I hope I’m wrong, but…” His voice trailed off.

“But you don’t think so, do you?”

Another sigh rolled out of him. “No, I don’t.” He peered closely at Zeeb. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Sol tilted his head to one side. “You were worrying about Nate, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

Zeeb shook his head.

“Then my advice is to have some breakfast, then catch up on your sleep. I want you rested by the time Nate returns. He’s your priority.” He paused. “You like him, don’t you?”

Zeeb blinked. “What kind of a fool question is that? Course I like him. He’s a sweet guy.” And if Sol was correct in his assumptions, Nate’s guarded stares and reluctant smiles finally made sense, offering Zeeb a glimpse of the man hiding behind the walls he’d built around himself.

I wanna be there for him when those walls come crashing down.

Sol’s knowing smile irritated the fuck out of him, and he had no idea why that should be.

“First the boss, now you,” Zeeb muttered. “What is it with you guys, statin’ the obvious? Why shouldn’t I like Nate?”

Sol bit his lip but said nothing.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go eat. An’ I’m sure you have something better to do than stand around, talkin’ to me.”

“I do indeed.” Sol patted him on the back. “You’re a good man, Zeeb.” He smirked. “No matter what Teague says.” Then he headed toward the Leather barn.

Zeeb watched him go, his brows knitted.

Am I missing something?

His stomach growled, and he shoved the thought aside.

Food first, then a few hours’ shuteye. He had no clue when Nate would turn up, but at least eight hours lay between him and Salvation.

And by then, I’ll be ready for him.

His gut clenched, and it had nothing to do with hunger.

What did they do to you, Nate?

Not that Zeeb wanted to know.

And if Nate wants to tell you?

If that situation arose, Zeeb would suck it up and be there for him. Hell, he’d do anything to put a smile on that beautiful face, to bring light to those green eyes.

As he headed to the bunkhouse, it occurred to him that anything covered a whole lotta ground.

The gravel crunched beneath the tires of Nate’s car as he pulled into the ranch’s long, winding drive. Dust rose in a lazy cloud behind him, catching the pale evening light like smoke. He parked his car next to the bunkhouse, cut the engine, and got out.

The door to the bunkhouse opened, and there was Zeeb. He didn’t wave or holler, but simply stood there.

Waiting.

What do I say to him?

It was a question that had occupied Nate’s thoughts all the way there. He’d driven in silence: Music would have been a distraction, and he wanted to think.

Zeeb didn’t speak as Nate approached him, his arms folded across his chest, his face unreadable in the fading light.

I should make the first move.

Nate swallowed hard.

“I shouldn’t have left like that,” he said, his voice raw. “That was messed-up. I didn’t mean to put that on any of you.”

Zeeb studied him. “You okay?”

The question hit harder than it should’ve. Nate met Zeeb’s steady gaze. “No,” he said at last. “But I will be.” He sniffed. “Is that supper I can smell? I’m starving.”

Zeeb nodded. “Wait a sec and I’ll go fetch it. You can take it to the cabin.”

Nate’s heartbeat quickened. “Have you eaten yours?”

Zeeb shook his head. “I was hopin’ we could eat together. It’s a habit that’s growin’ on me.”

Nate managed a smile. “I’d like that.” He paused. “After supper, you think you could stay a while? There are some things I need to tell you, and it might take some time.”

Zeeb’s eyes were warm. “I got all the time in the world. And you don’t have to tell me a thing, you got that?”

“But I want to.” He exhaled, a slow push of air. “And not just about yesterday. I… I need to tell you everything. All of it. If you’re willing to hear it.”

Zeeb nodded. “I’m here. An’ I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

The constriction around Nate’s chest eased, and he breathed a little easier.

For the first time in years, he let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to carry his burden alone anymore.