Page 68 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

T he first winter I spent here—when the snow arrived and grew thicker by the day—I cursed it endlessly.

Along with so many things in my life at that time, I hated what it represented.

Being isolated. Stuck up here with nothing but my own dark thoughts and terrible places my mind was liable to go.

If I didn’t have the constant buzz of alcohol simmering in my veins, and company to waste days away with, I would have to confront what was going on inside my head.

I’d have to see all those broken pieces laid out.

Now, I’ve learned how to make peace with the mess. I’ve learned how to accept the parts of me that aren’t pretty, that certainly aren't perfect, but can still be loveable all the same.

Or so my therapist tells me.

We do online sessions. After starting out twice a week, we’ll aim to eventually work our way down to a biweekly check-in. Something I’ve done a hell of a lot of lately... talking .

Only, it’s not to the one person I actually want to speak to.

What I wouldn’t give to hear his voice after spending these frozen winter months apart.

To feel his touch cupping my jaw after all these miserable weeks on end without him.

Burnt golden leaves of fall seem like a distant memory; an eternity ago when I look at the calendar and see how we’re crawling closer to spring.

Hell, I’d do just about anything to even be on the receiving end of one of his stupid scowls, as long as I was able to witness it in person.

Staring out over the ranch, the place is an endless expanse of white.

Sugary powder dumped over everything after last night’s fresh snowfall.

It’s beautiful, that much I can appreciate for what it is now.

In this new season of Kayce Wilder, man who is learning how to love himself .

When in the past, I might have stood in this exact same spot with my coffee and wanted to hurl the entire thing against the wall because all I could see was a cage made up of winter’s icy touch.

At the conclusion of each session, I’ve been given homework.

To find a way to open up to one person, about one thing.

To take this monumental pile of crap that I’ve been terrified of being buried under in a landslide, and pick it apart piece by tiny piece.

So today is the day I know I’m ready to talk to Chaos.

Honestly, I’ve left him until last. By now, I’ve pretty much worked my way through everyone I’m closest to, letting them know about how different my life is going to look once I’m no longer snowbound on this ranch, after winter vacates and the weather turns warmer.

So many things are going to be different, and yet there are also some massive fucking unknowns.

Namely, if I’ll be able to find Raine. Will he want to see me? Would he even consider returning to Crimson Ridge?

I take a quick photo through the kitchen window, showing the snow coating the view, remembering the times I stood here with him and took it for granted.

When I rambled on about some stupid show, a series we should watch together, never once assuming there might be a future point in time when we wouldn’t get the chance.

There’s no avoiding how much of an idiot I feel at times, the foolish naivety I had, presuming we’d be blessed with endless time .

Now I know more than ever how true the sentiment is that time is precious. It’s never guaranteed.

So, I send Raine the photo. Something I’ve started doing lately, even though I’m pretty sure he’ll never check his Instagram—or worse, he’ll outright ignore my messages, as he has every right to do.

I add a little text with it. Hoping against all fucking hope that maybe there will be a day when he appears back in my life again.

Snow’s here.

I wish you were, too.

With a sigh, I leave my phone plugged in at the kitchen counter, then gather up my mug.

I’m gonna possibly need this entire coffee pot for this.

As I make my way to the office, each step is punctuated by me quietly hyping myself up.

Being my own one-man fucking marching band to get the words straight and my head in the right place.

I’m at peace with this decision. If anything, once I was able to open up to a professional—someone who had nothing to do with rodeo or Crimson Ridge, or any of my life here—it was easy to look at what I’d achieved with some perspective.

There are a fuckload of people out there who will never get to ride a bronc, let alone compete, and I’ve been a lucky enough son of a bitch to do both.

Hell, I can still spend the rest of my days on horseback if I want to.

I’ll take that as a fucking win.

Settling into the rickety chair my dad keeps in here, it squeaks and protests when I sink down. I pick up the handset for the radio and flick onto the right channel before speaking.

“Hayes Ranch, come in. What’s your twenty?”

The line crackles and pops while I take a sip from my mug and wait.

“Go ahead. Wes, here.” The familiar deep voice of one of Chaos’ older brothers, Westin Hayes, comes through.

“Eyes on Chaos?”

There’s a pause. “Kayce. Good to hear from you, man. You good?”

“Toasty warm up here on Devil’s Peak. You know how it goes.”

“I’ll check his status. Stand by.” I smile to myself.

Wes is about as grouchy as my dad. The two of them are more similar than they’d ever admit, except in this case, the second oldest of the Hayes brothers has taken over running their family ranch.

He’s not that much younger than the eldest, but Cam has been Sheriff for years now.

So, the mantle to take charge of their family property fell on Wes’ shoulders, with help from the others.

“Shit-for-brains is out covering the south pasture. Hit him on channel forty-two.”

“Copy.” I flick the receiver over and ping Chaos.

“Fuck face,” he answers, voice slightly distorted by the crackle of the radio.

“Miss me?”

“Heartbroken. Tormented. Every day is a tragedy without you in my life, Wilder.”

“As it should be.” I let go of the handset button for a moment and gather my thoughts. It’s not ideal doing this via radio, but it’s not like I can pick up the phone and call him.

“What’s up? Cam’s the one doing welfare checks on your ass, so I know this isn’t about the roads or shit like that.”

“You sittin’ down?” I grumble, before taking a deep breath. “I’m not coming back to rodeo after winter. Or ever, actually. My knee is too fucked up. Also... in some more recent developments, that I don’t know how to explain without just going ahead and saying it... I’m gay.”

The words rush out before I let the static hang in the air, filling the tiny office with the anticipation of his reaction. I’m not worried as such, but I kinda hate that it’s taken me this long to tell him.

In my fist, the radio unit hums and whines before bursting back into life.

“Say again? Did we just transport to dueling banjos territory? Dueling dicks? Where the fuck you been hiding this juicy detail, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, turns out, I’m into guys now.” I’m laughing to myself, wishing I could see his face.

“And apparently my gay compass has been broken since day one... because I kinda only want Raine.” As his name passes my lips, I wince.

It hasn’t gotten any easier to say it. Even after telling Brad and Flinn, Sage, my dad—no matter how many times I tell the people who mean everything to me, it still stings that I can’t tell him .

The line stays quiet, and I suddenly feel like I need to add on the next part hastily.

“It’s not as if I’m out here secretly obsessed with you or anything. You don’t have to worry about that.”

There’s another long goddamn pause before Chaos’ voice echoes over the radio. “You aren’t? I’m kinda disappointed. This is me pouting.”

“Of course you are.” I drain the last of my coffee.

“Don’t you think I’m pretty?” he whines.

“Oh my god.” A laugh chokes out of me so suddenly I nearly spit my entire mouthful all over my dad’s ancient computer. “You’re gonna make this about you, aren’t cha?”

“Tell me I’m pretty right now, or I’ll never speak to you again, Wilder.”

“Jesus. Yes, you’re very pretty alright.”

“Thank you.” He huffs. “Now rewind to the fact you slipped and fell onto Raine’s—what I’m sure is very impressive—dick. I coulda been coaching you through every trick I’ve got for sucking cock.”

“Why does everyone keep telling me I need coaching?”

“Well... you ain’t gonna be deep-throating a monster like that your very first time.”

“Ok. I’m not having the rest of this conversation over a radio channel. I just wanted you to know and hold all questions for the next time I can get off this mountain.”

“So what... are you two like kissing cousins now, or what?”

“Jesus.” I scrub my hand over my mouth.

“What does a stepbrother-flavored blow job feel like?”

“Bye.”

“Negative. Don’t you dare end this transmission, prick. Didn’t Raine leave? Heard he fucked off back to moose country.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure where we stand, ok. But if I didn’t completely mess it up, I wanna be with him. As in a serious, proper relationship, go all-in kinda deal. Is that enough spilling my guts to keep you happy?”

He pauses and takes his sweet time before replying. “ For now. But you bet your perky, firm ass cheeks I will hunt you down as soon as that snow clears and expect the full story. Copy?”

A wry smile settles on my lips. “Loud and clear, Chaos.” Loud and fucking clear.

The rest of my day goes by uneventfully.

Cattle get fed. Horses take up too much of my time.

It’s a familiar loop around the ranch while the place is coated in fresh snow.

With such a significant fall, the mountain road will be shut for a while.

I’ve heard from the crew who work to clear access as fast as they safely can, but there’s no promise it’ll be open until next week at the earliest.