Page 99 of Saving the Rain

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 beingwithhim.

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 ofKaycethey all only really know the surface-level of?

I turn the key in the ignition and then pause with both hands onthe 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 youHi, Sageme, 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.”