Page 41 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Nate stood in front of his easel, studying the painting of the lake.

Leave it alone. You finished it, remember?

It was always the same. He had to resist the urge to fiddle, as Dad put it.

Canvases are contrary objects. They dare you to leave a mark on them when you want to start a painting, and they keep drawing you back to add just a little more, just a little more…

Dad’s soft knock at the door made him jump.

“Hey. I didn’t hear you come upstairs.” The painting had claimed all Nate’s attention.

“Can I come in?”

That was one of the things Nate loved about him—he never assumed, he always asked.

“Sure.”

Dad joined him and gazed at the painting. “This is so good. Is this a real place or from your imagination?”

“It’s not far from Salvation. I went there several times.” He fell silent.

We went there.

Dad said nothing for a minute, and the way he scrutinized the canvas sent a ripple of unease through Nate.

“What’s up?”

Dad hesitated, then sighed. “Can we talk?”

He blinked. “We talk all the time.”

“Yes, we do—usually. But this is the first time you’ve mentioned Salvation since you got back. It’s been two weeks.”

Nate’s stomach clenched.

“I expected you to talk about it, but when you didn’t go near the subject, I left you alone. But I am a little confused. You sounded so positive on the phone while you were there. So what happened between that last call and arriving back home?”

Nate’s scalp prickled. “Nothing.”

“ Nothing is how much information you’ve shared about your time there.” Dad pointed to the painting. “Tell me about this.”

He kept a straight face. “It’s called a lake.”

Dad let out a wry chuckle. “Okay, now you’ve really got me curious. What is it about this place that you don’t want to talk about?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Then tell me something else about your stay. What did you do when you weren’t riding or painting?”

It was Nate’s turn to chuckle. “I mucked out stalls in the stable.”

Dad blinked. “And? How was that?”

“You know, I enjoyed it. Sure, it was hard work, but at the same time, it felt really good.” He smiled. “I’ve never done anything so strenuous in my life, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Nate wanted to say it was gross, but that wasn’t entirely true.

Well, it was gross, but unexpectedly cathartic.

“Okay, that sounds positive.” Dad pulled a stool toward him and sat. “Don’t stop there. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Nate realized there was only one way out of this situation.

He had to tell the truth.

Nate walked over to the window and looked down into the street below.

“It was a positive experience. But being home feels like a backward step. Painting. Therapy. Nothing’s changed.”

“Sounds to me as if something ’s changed.”

Nate stared at the sky, nowhere as vast as the canopy he’d left in Montana.

“I took your advice. I went to see Sol. And that… that helped so much. He made me see how far I’d come, and what had brought me to that point.”

“That’s wonderful.” He paused. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

Nate gave a hard swallow. “I miss Zeeb,” he said in a low voice.

“That’s understandable. You spent two weeks in each other’s pockets. Of course you—” Behind him, Dad’s breathing caught. “Oh. I see.”

Nate turned his head to find Dad staring at him, a steady gaze that felt comforting, not invasive, his features soft.

“You do, don’t you?”

Dad’s eyes were warm. “I can see why you’d like him. Zeeb’s a character, but he’s got a good heart under that tough exterior.”

Nate managed a chuckle. “He’s not so tough.”

Dad arched his eyebrows. “It’s more than merely liking him, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Maybe.” Nate sighed. “I don’t know. I had to leave when things were just getting…”

“Interesting?”

It wasn’t the adjective Nate would have chosen.

More like complicated.

Hot.

Scary as hell.

“Have you been in contact with him since you got back?”

“We’ve exchanged texts. He did call a few times, but I didn’t answer.”

“Why not?”

Nate swallowed once more. “I didn’t think I could bear to hear his voice.” Zeeb hadn’t mentioned the missed calls, and Nate had wondered about that.

“Did anything happen between you two?”

“Not much.” Nate sighed. “And yet so much.”

“Okay, now I’m really confused.”

Nate turned to face him. “He got through my defenses, every last one of them. He… touched me, and not just physically. And before you ask, we haven’t even kissed.”

Dad cocked his head. “But you wanted to?”

He huffed. “I wanted to before I left Salvation. I think he did too.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Nate had been asking himself the same question.

“I think he was being careful around me. And I… I was too scared.”

“Of what?” Dad’s voice was gentle.

“Feeling something so huge that it overwhelmed me.” He gazed at Dad. “Have you ever felt that way about someone?”

Dad didn’t react for a moment. Then he nodded. “Once.”

That quietly uttered word stopped Nate in his tracks. “Oh.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. And something I regret.”

Nate stared at him. “You regret feeling that way about someone?”

He shook his head. “No, for not acting on those feelings. I had a chance to tell him how I felt, and I didn’t take it.” He gave a sad smile. “I still think about him.”

“How often?”

Dad scrubbed his hand over his face. “Oh, every day.” He got off the stool and left the room, and Nate’s gut clenched. A moment later, Dad returned with a strip of photos. He gave it to Nate. “That was us.”

Nate gazed at the photos. Dad and the other guy were laughing at something.

He looks so happy.

“How old were you?”

“A little younger than you are now.” He bit his lip. “And as you can see, he was older.”

Nate handed them back. “And you still think about him?”

Dad nodded. “So I know what I’m talking about. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Life is too short.”

The same words Nate had written about Walt and his crush on the mailman, and how he needed to make a move.

Dad’s eyes were warm. “You’ve been through so much. You deserve some happiness.” He paused. “Nate, can I ask you something very personal?”

Another blink. “You’re one of a handful of people who can ask me anything.”

“You said you were too scared. I got the feeling you weren’t just talking about kissing Zeeb.” He paused. “Does what you want scare you?”

His stomach was in knots.

“Yes.” The word came out as a whisper. “And I’m not sure why that should be.”

“Maybe Dr. Lacey could help? If you feel comfortable discussing it with him?”

Nate expelled a breath. “I think I’d be more comfortable with someone who gets where I’m coming from. Someone who really sees me.” He looked Dad in the eye. “Someone who’s gay or bi.” And he already had an idea who that would be.

If Sol would talk to him over the phone.

He recognized the direction his thoughts were taking him.

I’m talking as if I’m going back there. To Salvation.

To Zeeb.

Dad leaned over and kissed the top of Nate’s head. “Thank you for trusting me.” He gave Nate a hug, and Nate breathed in his familiar scent. Then Dad released him and took a step back. “I’m going to try to help you.”

“How?” Nate smiled. “Unless you can find a magic lamp, rub it three times, and Zeeb pops out of it?”

Dad chuckled. “That wasn’t my first idea, but I’ll be sure to keep a lookout for any magic lamps.” He placed his hands on Nate’s shoulders. “You can’t go on like this. How many illustrations have you finished in the last two weeks?”

Nate bit his lip. “None.” He’d start work on one, and it wouldn’t hold his attention. His mind would wander back to the ranch. The horses. The people.

One in particular.

The last line from Zeeb’s text that morning still lingered in his thoughts.

What are you waiting for?

A solution that worked.

Dad patted his arm. “I’m going to start dinner.” He didn’t move, however. “Nate…”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I shut you out, Dad. I won’t do that again. After all, if it hadn’t been for you, I would never have visited Salvation.”

“I hoped it would be beneficial.” Dad smiled. “They didn’t list falling for one of the hands as a benefit, though.” He tilted his head, his eyes bright. “Is ‘falling for him’ an apt description?”

“Possibly?”

That was what plagued Nate. He didn’t know.

How could I know ?

Far too much of his life had been people talking down to him. Telling him he was sick. Diseased. Disgusting. Yes, he really liked Zeeb, but that didn’t banish those words. It didn’t make them release their grip on his heart and soul.

If I’d kissed Zeeb, would I have slid back into that scary place?

Would he run from Zeeb?

Who am I anymore? The therapy helped, but that question had never been answered.

Could I have a relationship? Am I capable of it?

Then he pictured Zeeb, floating in the water, a lazy smile stretched across his face as he turned his gaze to Nate, and that question became less pronounced.

A new one took its place.

Could I be happy without Zeeb?

His heart raced.

Could we really have something?

Dad gestured to the canvas. “Can I frame this one and put it on the wall downstairs? It’s beautiful.”

Nate forced a smile. “Of course.”

“Thank you. Okay, now I really will go and start dinner.” Dad left the room.

Once his studio was tidy, Nate went into his bedroom.

The drawing of Zeeb and Sorrel sat in a frame on the nightstand.

He sat on the bed and stared at it. He’d managed to capture Zeeb’s lopsided grin, his relaxed stance, the way he had of looking at Nate as if he could see past the barriers to the real Nate.

You’re too far away.

He could remedy that.

He could pack a bag, get in his car, and drive for eight or nine hours.

And do what when I get there?

Nate picked up the framed sketch and gazed at it.

I wish you were here.

Except that was wrong.

Nate wished he was there .