Page 17 of Creed (Rock Hard Mountain Men #3)

Creed laughed and kissed my forehead. “I don’t mind. I was a mess back then, too. But that’s actually what I’m curious about. How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you were gay. You knew back when you were fifteen. How did you figure it out so quickly and how were you able to accept it? It took me forever to figure it out, and even now I’m still not that comfortable admitting it out loud. How did you do it?”

All I could do was shrug. “I don’t know.

It was always just such a clear part of me, there was no point trying to deny it.

As for how I was so comfortable admitting I was gay.

.. I hate to say it, but the only person whose opinion I cared about was you.

And you were so oblivious back then, I probably could have kissed you full on the mouth and you wouldn’t have realized what that mean.

Other than that, I didn’t care if anyone else knew. ”

This was one of the few topics we’d never really discussed, but even now, I could tell what Creed was thinking as his eyes darted around, looking for answers that weren’t there.

Wrapping a hand around his head in a firm grip, I pulled him into a deep kiss, effectively silencing the complex thoughts that had undoubtedly been building inside his head.

The kiss lasted for several minutes, long enough to be sure that I had his full attention, but I pulled back just enough to speak.

“You know, it’s okay that it took you a while to figure yourself out. There’s no time limit for these things.”

“I know.” Creed nodded. “But I can’t help but think, if I’d been able to come to terms with it earlier, if I’d been able to admit that I was... gay, then we could have had a lot more time together.”

I couldn’t help it. I had to kiss him again. It was a much briefer exchange, but I poured as much emotion into it as I could.

“Oh, you silly, sentimental man. I love you. You know that? Maybe it’s too early to say, but I do.”

I watched as Creed hesitated as his own words stuck in his throat. Love was such a heavy word. He wasn’t ready to say it back to me yet, but that was all right. I was patient.

I’d waited this long already just to be able to admit my feelings for him. I could wait a little longer to finally hear them back.

The awkward moment was saved by a knock at the door. Creed and I both quickly stood from the bed, not wanting to be caught in an awkward position. The door only locked from the outside. While we couldn’t leave, anyone could just walk in at any time.

Luckily, the person on the other side waited for us to give the okay before even trying the handle.

The young boy who opened the door had become familiar to us over the last few days.

His name was Robyn, and he was by far the most pleasant part of this whole kidnapping fiasco.

He always greeted us with a smile, and this time was no exception as he held up a tray.

“I’ve got food for you guys. Sorry it’s the same stuff as yesterday and, well, every meal. They won’t let me bring you anything else.”

Creed cleared some of his papers off the table so Robyn could set down the tray, presenting us our meager lunch of soup and bread.

Despite being only around twelve years old, Robyn was in charge of bringing us all our meals.

After we’d first been locked in this room, one of the adult cult members had brought us our meals, but that had quickly turned sour when they tried to take the opportunity to threaten us.

The ensuing scuffle had left Creed with a black eye, and the cult member with a broken arm.

Now, they sent us a child to bring us our meals instead, rightfully assuming that we wouldn’t attack someone so young.

“How’s your sister?” I asked the boy as I grabbed one of the bowls for myself. There was only one chair, which I let Creed have, so I awkwardly remained standing to eat. “Is she still sick?”

“Mavis’s cold is getting better,” Robyn said while fetching our bowls from the previous meal, which we’d stashed in the corner of the room. “She should be back on her feet soon, and then I’ll be busy again chasing after her.”

Apparently, the children’s mother had died in childbirth with the young sister.

They’d been raised by their father until about a year ago when the man had died due to some disease that Robyn didn’t fully understand.

That left the twelve-year-old boy to take care of his six-year-old sister all by himself.

I’d tried asking once why none one else in their “community” could take them in, but Robyn had given me such an evasive answer that I decided never to try asking again. Whatever politics were going on inside the cult were none of my business.

Robyn clutched the old tray in front of him like a shield, staring down at his shoes like they he was holding a conversation with them instead of us.

“Um, do you think, once Mavis’s cold is gone, I could bring her to meet you? I’ve told her all about our guests, and she’s really curious about you. She’s never met anyone outside our community before.”

I shared a look with Creed. Neither of us had much experience with children, but between the two of us, I was at least better at talking to people. There was an unspoken agreement between us to let me handle the awkward conversations.

The only question was, should we be blunt with our answer, or should we let the kid down easy?

For the sake of caution, I decided to try the easy approach.

“Creed and I wouldn’t mind meeting her. Your sister sounds lovely. However, I don’t think the rest of your community would agree, and we don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Robyn didn’t push it any farther, just silently nodded to himself. He was young, but he was old enough to understand what was going on, and he probably knew that even asking to bring his sister to meet us was already crossing a line.

“I have to get going,” he said as he headed for the door. “I have a lot of chores to do. I’ll bring you your diner later.”

The door clicked softly behind him. Its lock was unobtrusive but impenetrable.

As usual, Creed checked the door just to see if we could open it, but the handle wouldn’t even budge.

When we’d first been locked in here, he’d tried breaking the door down, but only succeeded in bruising his shoulder.

It looked like wood, but that was just a facade, and it was actually reinforced with metal.

Our room looked ordinary, if a bit dim due to the lack of windows, but it was an effective prison.

Shaking his head, Creed went back to the table.

“Joining a cult is one thing. Adults can make that choice for themselves if they want, but being born into a cult is an entirely different matter. Those kids didn’t choose this kind of isolated life.”

I stirred the spoon in my bowl, not even seeing the soup in front of me.

“Without being exposed to the broader world, they may not even realize they have a choice.” No longer hungry, I set the bowl aside.

“There are so many things I didn’t understand until I started traveling around, and I at least knew there was a bigger world out there for me.

I can’t imagine what it’d be like if I didn’t even know that traveling was an option. ”

“Not to mention making that kid raise his little sister on his own. It’s no wonder the Milford sisters chose to escape. I’m surprised more people don’t try to leave.”

“Even if they wanted to leave, they may not be able to,” I reminded him.

Creed just grunted in agreement. His attention was already back on his papers, and he was scribbling away on his notepad with one hand while spooning soup into his mouth with the other.

The soup was bland and unappetizing, but Creed had made a point of explaining how important it was that we keep our strength up.

Starving ourselves only made things easier for our captors.

My own bowl sat untouched, making me feel guilty over the wasted food, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat. My stomach was twisted up in knots, and if I tried to eat anything, I’d probably just make myself nauseous.

Time continued to tick by slowly as Creed’s pen continued its work. I dozed off at some point, drifting between conscious and dreaming like skimming across the surface of ocean waves.

I was startled awake some time later by a harsh knock on the door.

That clearly wasn’t Robyn. The boy always knocked with a polite little tapping sound, not this loud bang that seemed in danger of taking the door off its hinges.

This person also didn’t wait for our permission to enter. Almost as soon as they finished knocking, the door slammed open.

“You fuckers decent?”

No, this was not Robyn at all. It took me a moment to recognize the man who now stood in the room. He was related to Chester Grieve, and although he acted like he was the cult leader, he was basically his father’s lackey.

He didn’t wait for an answer to his rude question before heading over to Creed’s worktable.

“What progress have you made?”

“I haven’t cracked the code, if that’s what you want to know.”

Creed had been on his feet the moment there was a knock on the door, and he now glared at the other man who was sifting through the papers.

“This just looks like more drivel. Are you really doing anything?”

Snatching the papers from the man, Creed placed them back on the table in order. “I’m not going to bother explaining it to you. Do you actually need anything?”

The man pulled two familiar black bags out of his pocket. “My father wants to speak with you.”

It was almost routine now, having the bags placed over our heads before we were hauled out the door and moved somewhere else.

This time, I managed to pay a little more attention to where we were going and based on the size of the staircase leading from the door, it confirmed my suspicion that our room was underground.