Page 15 of Saving the Rain
“Just running through it.” I shrug and tap one side of my temple before flexing my grip around the metal railing to the training grounds. Looking out over the arena, I see the barrel racers gathered together, getting ready to start running some drills with their horses. Those of us based in Crimson Ridge train at this property together as much as possible. It’s like having a family when you’re on the road, and there’s something a little bit special about being tight-knit when we’re out there competing, no matter what part of the country that might be in.
“You were close last stop on the tour, man.” Brad joins me and takes up a similar position, hooking one boot on the lower rail. “It’s a game of millimeters.”
“And yet, you eat dirt and feel like that buckle might as well be light years away.”
“Chaos isn’t god. He likes to think he is, but all it takes is for his hot streak to falter.”
Blowing out a breath, I let his words hang in the air. We watch on as the first barrel racer takes to the course. Her horse flies across the ground, showering a great peacock tail of dirt as its hooves dig in, tightly rounding the first marker.
It’s not until she hurtles toward the turn closest to us that I see a familiar gold braid, realizing it’s Jessie that we’re watching. She’s dialed in, perfectly in tune with her horse, and doesn’t have a care for anything outside of the course she’s gunning to complete. I wouldn’t expect anything less.
“She’s looking confident,” Brad says. “You two still talking?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him adjust his hat. He’s got a smirk on his face. I know it, even if I can’t exactly see it.
There’s a strange feeling occupying the space dead center in my chest. Like I’ve been shot with an arrow, right in the bull’s eye of the target, and I’m about to be knocked on my ass. This right here is it. The fateful moment when I feel like I’m about to topple over at the side of this very arena, because everything has been too much lately.
I’ve been trying to shove it all into the corner, to sweep it all aside and ignore the reality that my world has tipped on its axis. Attempting to avoid the undeniable truth... that I don’t know how to handle any of it.
Let alone how to even process what the fuck happened that first moment I saw Raine. A problem compounded by every single one of our tense interactions each time I’ve seen him at the ranch since.
Fuck. I feel the numbness building, climbing from my toes. A stormy tide rising fast and relentless, threatening to carry me away without warning. One that will, without doubt, leave me gasping for breath, dragged under, not knowing which way to kick and struggle for the surface.
“Hey, man. You good?” This time, Brad knocks my shoulder with his. My friend's face is drawn tight with obvious concern.
I swallow thickly. Words cling to the back of my tongue, refusing to pour forward.
“No matter what it is. I’m here for you... you gotta know that.” He flickers a quick glance around, then lowers his voice. “If it’s the drinking you’re struggling with, or?—”
“I think I’m into guys.” It blurts out of me. The thing I don’t know if I should say, but have no hope in hell of stopping. “I think I’m... I might be gay.” Those words are echoing and distant to my ears, like they’re down a tunnel, and it’s not me saying them. My senses become drowned out with the aftershock of cannon fire, and even though it's only sixty out today, I’m a clammy, sweaty mess.
“Ok, then talk to me.” Brad doesn’t miss a beat. With a nod, he says it so reassuringly, so calmly. His quiet understanding permits my heart rate to ease ever so slightly after confessing the thing that has been onthe tip of my tongue, but I didn’t know if I was ready to admit it out loud to myself, let alone another soul.
He’s been out to his dad, to others, for nearly his whole life. There wasn’t ever any massive revelation for him. No big deal. No drama aboutcoming out. It’s just been who he is since forever. He told me once that he’d been certain since middle school that he was bisexual. If there’s anyone I trust with this, it’s him.
I just feel like such a shitty person that it’s taken me so long to actually tell one of my closest friends.
“Back when you had the party here on New Year’s...” Owning up to this is so unbelievably hard, I realize, as the words croak out. “I kissed someone. Well, more like he kissed me, and I had no interest in stopping it because I felt like I was going to climb outta my skin if he didn’t put me out of my misery and do it.”
“Holy shit. So, are you guys... together?” Brad lets out a low whistle while tilting his head. “Don’t you dare tell me this the first I’m hearing that you’ve got some secret boyfriend. Are you gonna break my heart and reveal that you’ve been hiding a lover boy from me all year, you little bitch? I coulda been organizing cute double dates and dinners for the four of us, y’know?”
That playful scowl and side of scolding is what finally makes the pressure feel like it eases. A rusty chuckle makes its way past my lips, and I shove against his shoulder with my forearm.
“Nah.” I exhale and scrub a hand over my jaw. “He did text me his number. But he’s from out of town and left it open-ended. Kinda like if I was ever around and he was around, and we wanted to meet up.”
“So?”
“So, nothing, cupid.” My lips twitch, seeing the hopeless romantic flickering away behind Brad’s eyes. “In case you missed the memo, I’ve gotta stay focused on rodeo, and manage the ranch. There ain’t time to waste on navel-gazing and figuring out why I suddenly wanted a guy when I’ve never felt that way before.”
“Oh, I bet you weren’t gazing at your navel.” He waggles his eyebrows.
A full-bodied laugh barks out of me, and I give him a harder push this time. “Shut up.”
“Cool . . . so you played a little tonsil hockey with a dude . . . one time?”
I shrug. “Yeah. That’s all it was.” The more we talk about this, the less of a big deal it seems. One little kiss? And here I’ve been blowing it all out of proportion. It seems pathetic, laughable, really.
Brad taps on the railing, staring out into the arena as we watch the next horse and rider complete their cloverleaf pattern, circling the barrels. “So, then what happened? You put yourself on ice for months on end and clammed up like a high-security vault rather than talk to anyone about it—I’m not butt hurt, by the way. Not. At. All.” Brad sticks out his bottom lip and proceeds to dramatically plunge an imaginary knife into his heart.