Page 12 of Dust and Desire (Sagebrush Cowboys #5)

“For a walk,” I said, already moving toward the door. “The sun’s almost down, but there’s still enough light. And I know just the place.”

Dustin hesitated, glancing at his half-eaten dinner. “I haven’t finished?—”

“It’ll keep,” I assured him. “This won’t take long, I promise.”

For a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then something shifted in his expression, a decision being made, and he pushed back from the table.

“Alright,” he said, reaching for his boots by the door. “But just a short walk. I’m not exactly dressed for hiking. ”

I waited on the porch while he laced up his boots, watching as the last of the daylight faded from the sky.

Stars were beginning to appear, pinpricks of silver against the deepening blue.

When Dustin joined me, he’d added a light jacket over his t-shirt, and the sight of him, casual, slightly rumpled, but still so handsome, made my heart skip.

“This way,” I said, gesturing toward a narrow path that led away from his cabin and into the trees.

The trail was just wide enough for us to walk side by side, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we navigated the uneven ground.

Each accidental touch sent a jolt through me, and I wondered if he felt it too.

The tension between us was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse with each step we took.

“Where are we going exactly?” he asked as we moved deeper into the woods.

“You’ll see,” I replied, unable to keep the smile from my voice.

The path began to slope downward, and I could hear the soft gurgle of water in the distance.

As we rounded a bend, the trees opened up to reveal a small creek, its surface shimmering with the last remnants of twilight.

The bank was grassy and dotted with wildflowers that had closed for the evening but would open again with the morning sun.

“I found this place my second day here,” I said, leading him to a flat rock near the water’s edge with a big grin on my face. “It’s peaceful. And it’s the same place you caught me skinny dipping if you recall.”

A deep blush spread across Dustin’s face at the mention of our first encounter, and he looked away, focusing on the creek instead of me. “I remember,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the gentle babble of water.

“Good,” I said, settling onto the rock and patting the space beside me. “Because I’ve been thinking about that day ever since.”

He hesitated for a moment before joining me, careful to leave a respectable distance between us. The rock was warm from the day’s heat, still radiating comfort even as the evening air began to cool.

“It’s beautiful here,” he said, and I could hear him trying to steer the conversation away from that charged moment we’d shared by the water.

“It is,” I agreed, but I wasn’t looking at the creek. I was watching the way the emerging moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. “Dustin?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened the other night? At the bonfire?” I kept my voice gentle, non-threatening. “One minute you were letting me touch you, and the next...”

He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them close to his chest in a gesture that made him look younger, more vulnerable. “I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of myself.” The admission came out as barely more than a whisper. “Of what I wanted.”

My heart clenched at the pain in his voice. “And what did you want?”

He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his words were so soft I had to lean closer to hear them.

“You,” he said. “I wanted you to keep touching me. I wanted to touch you back. I wanted...” He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “But I can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked, shifting slightly closer on the rock. Not close enough to crowd him, but near enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Because I don’t know how to be this person,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I spent thirty-two years pretending to be someone else. I was married, Alex. I had a wife who loved me, and I destroyed her life because I was too much of a coward to admit what I was.”

The pieces began falling into place. The sadness, the isolation, the way he pulled back just when things started to heat up between us.

“You’re gay,” I said, not a question but a gentle statement of fact.

He nodded, still not looking at me. “Took me long enough to figure it out. Or to admit it, anyway. I think part of me always knew, but it was easier to just... not deal with it.”

“What happened with your wife?”

“Her name is Ali,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “Alison. We met in law school, got married right after graduation. She is beautiful and smart and kind, and she deserved so much better than what I gave her. What I forced her to endure.”

“What did you force her to endure?” I asked softly, my heart aching for the pain I could hear in his voice.

He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers picking at the grass beside the rock.

“Years of feeling like she wasn’t enough.

Like there was something wrong with her, something she couldn’t give me.

I tried so hard to be the husband she deserved, but I couldn’t.

.. I couldn’t want her the way she needed me to. ”

The words hung heavy in the air between us. I wanted to reach for him, to offer some kind of comfort, but I sensed he needed to get this out.

“She knew,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe not consciously, but she knew something was wrong. She’d try harder, dress up for me, suggest things in bed that I just...” He shook his head. “I made her feel like she was failing when the failure was all mine.”

“That’s not failure, Dustin,” I said gently. “That’s just being human.”

He finally looked at me then, those blue eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Is it? Because it felt like I was living a lie every single day. Going through the motions of being a husband while fantasizing about men I’d never even spoken to.

Coming home to her after seeing some guy on the subway and having to excuse myself to the bathroom because I was so wound up I couldn’t think straight. ”

The raw honesty in his voice made my chest tight. I could see the shame he carried, the weight of years spent denying who he was.

“When did you tell her?” I asked.

“Two years ago. After I saw her crying in the kitchen one night because she thought I didn’t find her attractive anymore.” His voice cracked. “She was blaming herself for my inability to be what she needed, and I just... I couldn’t let her do that anymore. So, I told her everything.”

“How did she take it?”

“Better than I deserved,” he said with a bitter laugh.

“She was hurt, obviously. Angry. But mostly she was relieved to finally understand why our marriage felt so... hollow. She said she’d been wondering if there was someone else, and in a way, finding out I was gay was better than thinking I’d fallen in love with another woman. ”

I nodded, understanding more than he probably realized. “The divorce was her idea?”

“Mine. She deserved a chance at real love, and I...” He trailed off, staring out at the dark water. “I deserved to stop pretending to be someone I wasn’t. But knowing that doesn’t make the guilt go away.”

“Is that why you came here? To escape the guilt?”

“Partly.” He pulled his knees closer to his chest. “I needed to get away from everything that reminded me of the life I’d built on a lie.

The apartment, the job, the friends who all knew us as a couple.

And I needed somewhere I could figure out who I actually was, not the lie I thought I was supposed to be. ”

I watched as Dustin’s face softened in the moonlight, his profile sharp against the darkening sky. The creek gurgled beside us, a soothing backdrop to his confession.

“And have you?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Figured out who you are?”

He turned to me, a sad smile playing at his lips.

“Not entirely. But I know I’m not the man I pretended to be all those years.

” He ran a hand through his hair, the motion endearingly nervous.

“I know I like it here, away from the noise and expectations. I know I don’t miss corporate law.

And I know...” he paused, swallowing hard, “I know I’m attracted to men. To you.”

The admission hung between us, fragile as a soap bubble. I wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, but I sensed he wasn’t finished.

“That’s why I ran the other night,” he continued. “Because feeling that attraction and actually acting on it… that makes it real in a way I haven’t been ready for.”

“And now?” I asked, heart hammering against my ribs.

“Now I’m terrified,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “But I’m tired of running from what I want.”

I shifted closer, carefully, like approaching a skittish colt. “And what do you want, Dustin?”

His eyes met mine, blue depths swimming with uncertainty and desire. “I want to know what it feels like,” he whispered. “To kiss a man. To kiss you.”

My breath caught in my throat. “I’d be honored to be your first,” I said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He leaned into my touch, eyes fluttering closed. I moved slowly, giving him time to pull away if he changed his mind. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his face toward mine, an invitation I couldn’t resist.

When our lips met, it was gentle. A mere whisper of contact, both of us testing and exploring.

His lips were softer than I’d imagined, slightly chapped from the Texas sun.

I felt him tense momentarily before melting into me, a small sound escaping his throat that sent heat coursing through my veins.

I kept the kiss light, letting him set the pace, but when his hand came up to grip my shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt, something shifted. The kiss deepened, his lips parting beneath mine, and I tasted him, late night coffee and the sweet smokiness of barbecue.

His inexperience was evident in the hesitant way he moved, but there was an eagerness that made my head spin. When my tongue brushed against his, he gasped, the sound so pure and surprised that I couldn’t help but smile against his mouth.

“You okay?” I murmured, pulling back just enough to see his face.

His eyes were wide, pupils dilated in the moonlight. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”

He hesitated again and instead of pushing him further, I just wrapped my arms around him, holding him against me. His head came to rest on my shoulder, his heart pounding so hard I could hear it through his chest.

We just sat there, warm against one another in the oncoming coolness of night. The crickets sang and the fireflies glowed over the grass. For one small moment, everything in my life felt perfect. And I hoped, more than anything, that Dustin felt the same.