Page 63 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

I n no world did I think I’d be picking up takeout from The Loaded Hog, carefully sidestepping conversations about why I’m walking out of here with enough food for a small army, and giddy at the prospect of a sleepover with my stepbrother.

The guy, I’ve come to realize, I want to wake up next to every morning.

The cowboy who owns my heart... even if I’m too shit scared to admit that to him, or anyone else.

Not one single part of me is ashamed, or worried about coming out.

In fact, that feels like the least of my concerns within my group of friends.

I’m so thankful I’ve got incredible people surrounding me.

What absolutely petrifies me is the notion of opening up my fragile heart.

There’s a very real risk that if I do finally dare to step out onto the wafer-thin ice—allowing Raine to get close enough—he could decide to abandon me.

A soul destroying moment, when the other shoe might drop, sending me plummeting into the deepest, darkest of waters.

Yeah, that word strikes a nerve most ruthlessly of all. Abandonment .

Jesus, even just sounding it out inside my head, as I juggle the cardboard box full of food out to my truck, makes a chill run down my spine.

I’m so fucking terrified he’s gonna leave me that it’s left me frozen as if I’m stuck in the middle of a white-out. My body goes rigid, and my veins turn to ice, and the grim reality is that I don’t know how to do any of this.

I don’t know how to be a guy who loves someone this deeply.

Knowing I’d do anything just to hear him grumble in his sleep when he turns over and doesn’t realize that he tangles his legs with mine.

There’s this feeling, a yearning to be close to him at every opportunity.

Not only a passionate confession of love, or chasing lust, but also the simplicity of being with him.

Having a secret part of Raine that he doesn’t allow anyone else to see.

To the rest of the world, he’s so gruff and surly, but I get his sly grins, his dry humor, his gentle care and attention. All the stupid, meaningless, quiet moments. The kind of random Tuesday night where we can lie on the couch and share inside jokes that no one else would understand.

When I get into my truck, my head is spinning.

I’ve been ransacking my brain all day to make a plan on how to tell the people in my life who need to know.

Who deserve to know something so important.

Fall isn’t going to stick around much longer, time marches on with a steady drum beat calling winter in to take hold of Crimson Ridge.

I should really tell them before I get stuck up the top of that damn mountain for weeks at a time, rather than being a shitty friend prolonging keeping my vault of secrets.

And I know that I need to stop dancing around confessing the truth—to let them in on the extent of my injury.

If I ran into Chaos right now, right here in this parking lot, would I have the courage to open up and confess to him? Would I have the guts to look him in the eyes and let him know I’ve been hiding so much?

Or would I brush it off with a joke and a smart remark and be the version of Kayce they all only really know the surface-level of?

I turn the key in the ignition and then pause with both hands on the wheel.

Right now, there is about one person in this world who I feel could give me some advice on what to do.

Because I’m certainly not bugging Raine about how to make decisions where all of this is concerned, but there’s one particular friend who promised me that I could talk to them if I ever needed to—even if it feels like a lifetime ago.

The first person to see me clearly, when I hardly knew myself.

Hey, so I know you’re probably sucking face with Heartford...

Sage:

Oh, look. It’s the rodeo starlet himself.

To what do I owe this pleasure?

You got a minute?

For you, Wilder? I can make time.

Hit me.

Do you remember that day when the Chaos Twins put on the big opening at the Hog?

I certainly do. Was very memorable.

And you know how you kinda spotted something that we’d never spoken about before?

But you told me I could always talk to you if I needed.

Is this about the cute blondie in the impossibly tight wranglers?

Sage hits me with an entire row of eyeballs, eggplants, and water spurts. I groan and pinch my brow. Here goes nothing.

It’s not about him.

But in a way, it kinda is.

. . .

So, I’ve realized I’m gay, but not in an “I like all guys” kind of way. It’s more of a “there’s one very specific person,” and I don’t know how to tell people about him because I’m a walking disaster.

Anyway, I could really use someone like you who is good with words to help me figure out how the fuck to handle the fact I’ve been avoiding telling anyone.

Sage reads the message, and nothing happens. As I’m chewing my thumbnail, waiting for some words of wisdom to appear, my phone starts ringing.

“Um. Hello?! Do you want to run that bombshell by me again? My eardrums weren’t quite obliterated the first time...” Sage screeches at me down the phone. “I thought you just told me you’re gay?”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Hi, Sage.”

“Don’t you Hi, Sage me, Wilder. How is this the first you’re mentioning anything to me, and what in the actual fuck, and please tell me every single detail about your boyfriend immediately.”

“Ok, don’t go planning a wedding or anything?—”

“Oh my god. You would look stunning in a blue suit. STUNNING.” She gasps.

“Sage.” I scold her. But the grin is there, widening across my features in the face of her enthusiasm for said imaginary wedding she’s already planning.

“And, of course, you’d have to have it at Devil’s Peak. Photos on horseback? I can just picture it all. The barn spruced up. Late summer. Divine. Book it in right now.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Now, for the cake... do you prefer dark chocolate? No, knowing you, it’ll be something layered with extra sugary goodness.” She makes a squeak. “One of those cakes where the middle is hollow and filled with candy?”

“Ok, let’s just rewind here.”

She coughs and puts on a serious, stern voice. “Oh yes. Sorry. We’re here to discuss the matter of Kayce Wilder, newly anointed cock aficionado.”

I let out a groan.

“How’s your blow job game? Need some tips?”

“Don’t make me regret this phone call.”

“You know if you do this thing with your tongue?—”

“SAGE.”

“Sorry... I just want lover boy to be left with his toes curling each time you worship his schlong.”

I chuckle.

“Is it big? What kind of girth are we working with here?”

“Can I talk to Beau instead?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll behave.” She whines and puffs out an exaggerated sigh. “How very booooring.”

“If I told you I’m running late to go over his place, would that satisfy you?”

I can hear the stifled glee from the other end of the call. “Immensely. Are you guys serious-serious ? Or is it a we’re keeping it flirty and casual kind of deal?”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip.

“ Ohmygodit’ssoseriousIdie .” She breathes, and I can practically hear her jumping up and down.

“I mean, I’m not exactly ready to start shouting from the rooftops. But I also want to tell certain people. And well, I just feel like I don’t know how to blurt it out and start telling them.” I gulp hard as I say it. “It’s dumb. I know.”

“Not at all, Kayce. And all joking aside, I’m gonna be shedding a tear when I get off this call over the fact that you chose me, of all people, to ask about this. I feel like a proud mama lioness.”

“Thanks, Sage.”

“Ok, but before I answer, I gotta ask... do you want me to give you an opinion, or do you just need a listening ear right now?”

I pause for a moment. “Definitely hit me with any pearls of wisdom you’ve got. I know you and Beau were a different set of circumstances... but I figured you’d understand about feeling like you couldn’t tell people, even though you might’ve wanted to.”

Sage hums as she thinks. “My advice is you’re better off not hiding things.

Just take baby steps. Start with one person, then go from there.

That sneaking around shit isn’t healthy.

And I hate to bring up the hard, but very necessary, truth—that it’s much better to make the tough decision now, which sometimes turns out to be the positive solution needed in the long run.

A new relationship is difficult enough as it is.

One built on a foundation of hiding who you are and your sexuality, on top of keeping your relationship a secret?

That’s gonna be super tough going kiddo. ”

Letting out a laugh, I guess I kinda already knew the answer. But to hear her say it out loud, well, just reinforces that fact.

“You haven’t just withered away on me, right?” Sage croons in the way she does.

“Nah, I’m here. Thank you.”

There’s a noise in the background, and I hear a deep voice talking quietly which I’m guessing must be Beau.

“Shit, I feel like the world’s worst agony aunt right now...”

“Please don’t. You go. I’ve got a hot date to get to, remember”

She sighs wistfully. “Can I at least text you my tip about the tongue thing?”

“Bye, Sage.” I smirk.

“Ok. But your boy toy will thank meeeee.” She whisper-shouts as I end the call.

After quickly texting Raine to let him know I’m on my way, I set my phone aside, with a grin firmly on my face.

Of course I could count on Sage to somehow give me wise advice while at the same time also making me laugh about something that had felt heavy only a few moments ago.

Her words just gave me a confidence boost, the exact type I needed in order to make a plan.

I can do this, even if it’s just one person at a time, as she suggested.

I don’t have to shout it out to the world—don’t have to holler from the rooftops about Raine. But I can at least start opening up about who I truly am.

That part of me... I don’t want to hide anymore.

Figuring out how to explain more than that can come later... maybe after we’ve had more of a chance to be together.

Just as I shift into reverse, my phone bursts into life. I swipe it up without a second thought, assuming it’s Sage calling back. I’m half expecting her to be coming in hot with another outlandish tip for my sex life.

But the voice on the other end of the phone is clipped. Functional. And there are all too familiar sounds in the background making it clear this is a call I really, really don’t want to be receiving.

“Am I speaking with Mr. Wilder?”