Font Size
Line Height

Page 3 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Three

Nate Caldwell smiled when he heard his dad’s car pulling into the driveway. His last ETA had proved accurate: dinner was ready to be popped into the oven, and they’d be eating in less than thirty minutes.

He dipped his brush into the water jar, then wiped it clean on a rag before taking a step back to gaze at the canvas with a critical eye. It always amused him to hear Dad’s reaction to one of his paintings. It was the same comment every time: “That’s amazing.”

He doesn’t see it the way I do. Nate saw the bits that needed work. He supposed all artists felt the same way. His biggest problem was his inability to put the paintbrush down and simply leave it, declare it finished.

Dad was fond of saying he’d fiddle with it until the Rapture.

The front door opened. “Where are you? As if I didn’t know.”

Nate turned off the daylight bulbs that illuminated the canvas. “Coming down.”

As he turned the corner of the staircase, Dad was standing at the foot of the stairs, hanging his jacket on a hook.

He smiled. “Hey, you.” He held his arms wide and Nate stepped into them, enfolded in a warm, comfortable hug.

“Missed me?” Dad chuckled against his ear.

“Course you haven’t. You’ve probably been in the studio since I left.

” He drew back, his gaze narrowed. “You did celebrate the Fourth, right? I felt bad not being here for it.”

Nate laughed. “You know I didn’t.” He bit his lip. “Okay, I did take one of your beers from the fridge. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

Dad kissed his forehead, and Nate took that for consent.

This was his safe zone, with the only person he trusted completely.

Along with Owen and Simon, the couple who’d run the group home for LGBTQ+ youth where Nate had ended up, Derek Caldwell had given Nate his first real taste of kindness and understanding.

Trust was a rare commodity, but Nate trusted Derek.

Eight years had passed since Nate’s sort-of adoption, and he’d only begun to call him Dad in the last two.

The glow on Derek’s face the first time Nate said it had brought a lump to his throat.

“What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

Nate chuckled. “You’re always starved when you come back from one of these weeks. I’m beginning to think they don’t feed you at all.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “Of course they feed us. The meals are amazing, but I expend a lot of energy. And there’s also the fact that I drove home without stopping to eat because I was in a hurry to get back to you.”

He smiled. “You shouldn’t have. Everything’s fine here.

” He went into the kitchen. “Dinner is chicken and pasta in a marinara sauce, covered with a ton of cheese, just the way you like it.” He opened the refrigerator and removed the foil-covered dish.

Once it was in the oven, he poured Dad a cup of coffee.

He held it out. “You probably need this.”

Dad’s moan was comical. “It’s like you know me.” He tilted his head to one side. “How’s the painting coming along?”

“I’m pleased with it. I’ll show you later.” He poured himself a cup, and they went through into the living room. Nate let out a sigh. “I mean it. You didn’t need to hurry back. I really was okay.”

He was in his safe space.

“Have you been working in the studio all week?” Dad asked as he sat on the couch.

Nate frowned. “What you want to know is if I was a complete hermit while you were away. The answer is no. I went to the river and took photos, plus I saw Dr. Lacey. And before you ask, no, I don’t want to discuss it.”

What was there to talk about? Nate had hit a brick wall with his therapy, and nothing they did seemed to penetrate it.

If this is how it’s going to be, then maybe therapy has done all it can for me.

Nate pushed the thought aside. Dad was home. Life had resumed its natural course.

“Hey, you interacted with another person. That’s good.”

Nate snorted. “What you mean is, Nate, you got out of the house. Go you. ” He had to smile. The couch was doing a good job of sucking Dad in. “You always look so relaxed after one of these weeks. It’s obviously worth a sixteen-hour round trip.”

A happy sigh rolled out of him. “Salvation… that’s my therapy. Surrounded by like-minded people, where I can be myself…”

“I’m sorry there’s nowhere like it closer to home.” The thought of a BDSM club trying to set up shop in Boise? There’d be a helluva lot of pearl-clutching, maybe even protests complete with torches and pitchforks.

Okay, maybe not that bad, but Boise was a conservative city. Little wonder Dad went farther afield.

And he wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t persuaded him.

Then it hit him.

Dad had gone way too quiet.

“Maybe I should be the one asking if everything is okay.” Nate frowned. “Did anything happen at the ranch? Anything you can tell me about?”

“I had a long chat with my friend Robert. He owns the ranch. I think I told you about him.” Nate nodded. “Well, we got to talking one evening, and the conversation came around to you.”

He stiffened. “And was this the first time I’d been the topic for discussion?”

He cursed himself for his reaction. The feelings of mistrust he’d fought so hard to overcome clearly still lurked below the surface, not gone at all, but waiting.

So much for therapy.

Dad sat upright and placed his cup on the coffee table.

His gaze locked on Nate’s. “Until last week, all he knew was that I had a son called Nate. Period. But I’ve been thinking about you ever since we had that meeting with Dr. Lacey last month.

You remember when he started talking about equine therapy? ”

He nodded.

Dad seemed to breathe a little easier. “Have you given it much thought?

Nate frowned. “I had the feeling he’d only suggested it because I’d gotten so frustrated with my lack of progress.” The idea of working with horses had never entered his mind, and if he were honest, he’d approached the concept with a hefty dollop of skepticism.

But since that meeting, he’d recalled their conversation.

“I have thought about it a little since he brought it up.” Maybe there was something about building a relationship based on mutual respect and understanding that appealed to some part of him.

Horses were nothing like human beings, thank God.

And it wasn’t as if Dr. Lacey was suggesting equine therapy as a replacement for his regular therapy: it would be more of an add-on, something to complement his sessions.

Emotional walls surrounded Nate, looming around him, towering above him, walls of his own construction. Maybe this form of therapy would act as a last-ditch effort to break through them.

To crush them into nothing but rubble.

Then he realized he was pinning far too much hope on the idea.

“I’m not suggesting equine therapy will magically heal all your wounds, by the way.”

Dad’s voice jolted him back into the moment with another reminder that this man knew him better than anyone.

Nate smiled. “I’m glad about that.”

“But maybe it’ll open doors that have been closed for far too long.”

And suddenly Nate was listening, because dear Lord , although that scared the fuck out of him, he wanted it too.

He leaned back. “What’s on your mind?”

“Salvation has a lot of horses, and then there’s the food.”

Nate smirked. “You might have already mentioned that part.” He cocked his head. “You’re not suggesting I stay with a whole lot of guys in leather, are you?”

Not my thing. At all.

Dad chuckled. “Deliverance only happens one week per month. The rest of the time it’s a dude ranch. A very different dynamic.”

His frown was back. “A dude ranch? Living with cowboys, up before dawn, riding the range?” It didn’t appeal to him in the slightest.

A dude ranch meant People.

“I’ve already discussed this with Robert. You’d have your own space.”

Nate grinned. “I’ll be sleeping with the horses, won’t I?” Not that he was considering the idea. Going to Salvation was a huge step out of his comfort zone.

Unknown territory, and that was scary as Hell, enough for him to break out into a cold sweat.

Dad regarded him in silence for a moment, and Nate knew he saw the walls closing in on him.

Walls of fear.

Dad took his hand. “You’d have sole use of a cute little cabin by a creek.

I’ve seen it. You’d probably work with Paul Stormcloud.

He’s in charge of the horses. Plus, you could take all your art gear with you.

” He released Nate’s hand, and pulled his phone from his pocket.

“I took these yesterday, to give you an idea.” He scrolled, then handed it over.

Nate gazed at photos of mountains, hills, plains, meadows…

“It’s a beautiful spot,” he admitted. Just looking at those mountains had his fingers itching for a pencil, not to mention his watercolors.

“At least think about it?” Dad sighed. “The way I see it, you’ve gotten as far as you can with conventional therapy. Maybe it’s time to consider trying an unconventional one.”

What if he’s right? What if this actually helps?

It had been a while since a seed of hope had planted itself in Nate’s mind. Usually such seeds never had a chance to establish themselves. They withered and died.

Then I need to nurture this one.

Nate handed the phone back to him. “What do they know about me?” His pulse quickened. Am I really considering this?

“Nothing, except that you’re in therapy.” Dad’s gaze grew intense. “And you don’t have to tell them a damn thing, all right?”

Nate smiled. “The day you walked into that home was the luckiest day of my life. Meeting Owen and Simon is a close second.” The only people—apart from the home therapist and Dr Lacey—who’d gotten a glimpse of what lay behind Nate’s walls.

Memories that still scarred him.

“So… do you want to think about it? Or do I call Robert and put the wheels in motion?”

His solitary nature railed at the thought of being in an unknown environment, filled with strangers. He knew Dad wouldn’t suggest this if he didn’t trust the people there.

Except he doesn’t have the same trust issues I have.

Nate wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but there was something about it that was so different, so out there, he wanted to know more.

“If I say yes, and I get there and I hate it?—”

“Then you come home,” Dad said with a shrug. “But I don’t think you will hate it.”

“You go there because it’s you and God knows how many other gay men who like kink. But a dude ranch ? Cowboys? Not the most enlightened people on the planet. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable in a place like that.” Dad laughed out loud, and Nate stared at him. “What did I say?”

“Robert shared a little tidbit of information with me. He didn’t name names, but he told me half the regular ranch hands are gay, and the other half are bi.

Oh, and there’s one guy he isn’t so sure about, so perhaps he’s just a late developer.

” He grinned. “Does that sound like a place you might feel comfortable in?”

Nate smiled. “Okay, you sold me.” His heartbeat raced. “Make the call.”

Now, before I change my mind.

Dad’s fingers were already on the screen.

Nate stood and went into the kitchen, his pulse quickening.

What am I signing myself up for?

One way or another, he was about to find out.