Page 7 of The Barn: Frost and Q

Six

“ H ey, Q, can I talk to you a minute?”

Quentin was on his way back to his aerie in the tower when one of the resident subs stopped him in the hall.

For a moment, he felt nothing but blinding panic. Then he remembered that A) he was inside the Barn. B) he liked Kendal, and C) he was okay. He was in control. He was just tired from letting his damn physio guy convince him to do balance training in the actual gym.

So, he took a deep breath and then let it out. “Sure, Kendal. What’s up?”

“Well, you know how the big spring fling thing is coming up, right?”

“Mmm.” Was it? God, was it about to be high season? Why hadn’t Frost left to train with a crew. Or fly them? He was still in great shape and could still fight fires.

“Well, the subs decided to draw names to get one of the Doms a gift. Just to show our appreciation.” Kendal’s cheeks heated. “I picked Mr. Carson.”

Ah. And there it was. Carson made all the subs kinda stupid. “And?”

“And I need to know what to get him.”

“What’s the spending limit?”

Kendal told him. That would never buy Carson a bottle of his favorite whiskey, so… “Well. He likes cards. Like card games and weird playing cards from all over the world.”

“Like tourist ones too?”

“The uglier the better.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. That’s a total win.”

“No problem, kiddo, have a good day.”

Kendal offered him a shy grin. “I don’t suppose that you want to come have lunch? It’s grilled cheese and tomato soup day.”

What a sweetheart, but God no. “No, honey, I just finished doing physical therapy, and I’m tired and sweaty and not hungry.

I appreciate it, though.” That was a lovely invite, but he wasn’t feeling like company.

In fact, he wasn’t feeling like doing much of anything except for possibly just going back to bed. That was self-care, right?

He called for the elevator, and as soon as the doors opened, Boone slipped into the elevator with him, startling the hell out of him. “Hey?”

“Hey, you, where are we going?”

Q arched an eyebrow. “Well, I was going to my room.”

“Oh good. We’re going to have grilled cheese and tomato soup delivered to us. I’m hungry.”

“Oh.” Fucker. “Are you coming up?”

“I am. Thanks for the invitation.”

He rolled his eyes and reached out and pinched Boone hard in the butt.

“Ow!”

Q snorted. “Oh, that was very Dommy of you.”

Boone grinned at him. “Would it be easier if I did it really low? You know, owww.” He croaked it like a big frog, and Quentin found himself laughing, even though he didn’t really want to.

“That’s better. I often think toad when I think of Doms. Seriously, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

“No, you’re tired and you’re going to sit and talk to me and have lunch.”

He shook his head, bouncing his leg. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“Not right now. Soon there’s going to be lots of fun stuff happening…”

Something fun? He hadn’t been informed of any new activities.

“So do you want to know where Frost is?”

Quentin shook his head. “No, not really.”

Why? Why would he want to know? What was Frost doing?

“Oh, come on, not even a little curiosity. I’m disappointed.”

They got to the top floor, the elevator doors opened, and he rolled out, heading for his rooms with Boone right behind him. He got through the set of double doors, and he went right to his bathroom, needing to wash off sort of desperately. “Bring me a T-shirt, will you? Make yourself useful.”

He didn’t want to ask. Boone was going to give him no end of shit if he asked. He knew Boone. Boone was going to tease him about this forever, because Boone was a fucker.

“No problem. You need socks and stuff too?”

“Yeah, my pants are pretty good, but I could use a pair of socks. Thank you.” He started cleaning up, and he began to feel more and more human.

“You want a protein drink or a glass of water?” Boone was pretty; he was nice; he knew what Q wanted.

Why couldn’t he be in love with Boone? Why couldn’t Boone be in love with him?

They had a routine. They knew how to be together. They had this down.

He heard the fridge open and close, and then Boone was in the bathroom giving him a T-shirt and a pair of socks and a glass of water.

“I figure there’s no reason for you to get your calories with a protein drink when you can have real food.”

“Thanks.”

Boone grinned at him. “I worry about you, you know?”

“Oh, I know it. I know that you spend hours worrying about my happy ass.”

“Don’t be a dick, Q. It’s a shitty look.” Boone went to sit on the counter next to the sink, watching him get dressed. “So, come on, make me feel good. Ask me.”

He rolled his eyes and tugged on his clean shirt. “So what is Frost doing?”

Boone’s eyes lit up. “He is visiting with Tug.”

“Tug’s here?” How did he not know Tug was here? “When did Tug get here?”

“When you were in therapy. He flew in.”

It was always so exciting when Tug came in to visit. The rodeo cowboy was just totally unpredictable. There was a little bit of a spark that this place needed when it all was too damn normal.

“So what does he want?”

Boone grinned wider. “I don’t know, but it came in with boxes. I love it when it comes with boxes.”

“You dipshit.” He drank his water, and Boone hopped down to help him put on his socks.

“Oh, I know. But it’s so fun. He really is the only one of us who ever leaves. He goes and has this huge life. You know there’s him, and every so often, Frost, who goes. But me, Carson, you? We’re always here.”

“Yeah.” Okay, that made him want to run away. “Why did you stop going to the lower forty-eight? Don’t you have a ranch down there?”

“I do. In the Roaring Fork valley.” Boone’s expression held a wealth of sadness before he shook his head and grinned. “I may own it, but my family never ceases to fight over it. So, I have a ranch manager, an accountant, and an incredible security system.”

“Oh, man.” He shook his head. “I had no idea.” There was so much he didn’t know about the personal lives of these guys.

Frost was the one who’d gone into business with them.

Quentin had just been along for the ride.

But they were his friends, too, and he was ashamed at how little he really understood.

So, he was going to sit here and have lunch with Boone and not talk about him and Frost. “Did you order lunch?”

“Yep. Want help wheeling out?”

“Nah. I got it. You go first so I have more room.”

Boone headed out to his little lounge room, and he flopped on the couch, leaving Quentin his favorite chair. It was a sleek recliner that looked more fashionable than it was, and it was easy to get in and out of. He loved it.

So he settled in, staring at Boone.

“What?” Boone peered down at his shirt front. “Did I get paint on me or something? I was helping Jonas repaint that wall the got hit with the snowmobile. It’s warm enough now.”

“Ah, the never-ending maintenance of a pleasure club.”

“Hey, we’re a lifestyle club.” Boone made finger quotes. “Do not ruin our tax designation.”

“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, your family is that bad?”

If Boone was having any trouble following the changes of conversation, he didn’t show it.

“Yeah.” He heaved a sigh. “I don’t have siblings, and my folks are gone.

But I have two aunts, one great uncle, who lives at the ranch, and seven cousins.

They all want a piece of stuff, except my great uncle, who says Mom and Dad did the right thing leaving it solely to me. ”

“Damn. So it was your grandpa’s ranch then?”

Boone raised an ironic eyebrow. “Honey, we’re generation five.” He crossed his arms, his body language speaking volumes. “And they all think that Yellowstone show is a great model for how things should go.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of murder and mayhem.”

“Why do you think I’m in Alaska?”

It occurred to Quentin for the first time that he wasn’t the only one who was hanging out at the Barn because he was…hiding from things.

Now he had to wonder what Carson’s deal was.

A knock on the door sounded, and Boone popped up to go get it. He bit back any jealousy for how easily Boone moved. That was bitter and awful, and he didn’t want to be that.

He wanted to be Zen, but he sure wasn’t there yet. However, nothing said he couldn’t try harder.

“Ta-da!” Boone wheeled in a cart and took the cloches off the food. “Tomato soup, grilled cheese, and apple pie! They even sent a little thing of ice cream sitting in a bowl of ice. Who needs champagne when you have that?”

“Can I eat dessert first?” The pie smelled divine, all apples and cinnamon.

“Sure, buddy. So much easier to heat up soup and sammy than deal with melted ice cream.” Boone handed out the pie, joining him with it. The kitchen had sent coffee and iced tea and water, so he took coffee, because that was so amazing with pie.

Frost would tease him, because that man was a grilled cheese fiend, and he would want that and a beer.

And it was Boone’s fault he was thinking about Frost.

“Why do you think Frost hasn’t left to go work some fire?” he blurted out.

Now Boone did blink at him, ice cream container and scoop in hand. “Uh… I mean, I have no idea. Maybe he didn’t get offered a contract.”

Quentin scoffed. “He’s one of the best drop pilots in the whole country. And he’s a hell of a jumper too. Any team would want him.”

“Mmm.” Boone scooped ice cream onto the warm pie in front of him. Then he carefully did his own pie. Silently.

“You don’t think it’s me, do you? You think it’s me? Of course it’s me. I don’t want him to walk away from the life he loves for me.” There was no good there.

Boone leaned back with his pie and dug in, focusing on it.

“It doesn’t always have to be about you.

You spend a lot of time in here now—a crazy amount of time in here.

Do you know that you’re my best friend in all the world, and I adore you, but you’re in your own head all the fucking time.

And when you’re in your own head all the fucking time, everything is about you.

I don’t mean that in an asshole way. You’re not getting enough input.

” Boone went to take another bite, and let him stew on that for a second, before he asked, “Are you a sub?”

“Pardon me?” Had Boone honestly just asked him that?

“Look. I’m not an idiot. Hell, even if I was an idiot, this is my goddamn job. The fact is, if you need this lifestyle, you’re not getting what you need. You’re not giving anything away.”

The words stung, because they were so true. He wasn’t getting what he needed, but Frost wasn’t demanding it, either. He was terrified he couldn’t give Frost what he required, and if he couldn’t fulfill his Master, then…

He shook his head. “I don’t have anything to give away.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Boone snapped. “I’m so sick and fucking tired of that crap.

You got shot, asshole. Does it suck? Yeah, sure it does.

You got shot in the fucking head. But you’re functional.

You’re here. You’ve got money, a man who loves you, friends who love you.

And yeah, what happened sucked. But you’re one of the most capable fucking human beings I’ve ever met.

You don’t want to be a sub anymore because you don’t feel like you can lose that control?

Cool, I get it. That makes sense. You don’t want to be a sub anymore because you’re mad at Frost for getting you shot, for taking that bet with that fucking bazillionaire, for having more money than God, all right.

Cool. You’re just punishing Frost because you are mad at him?

Okay. I don’t give a shit, but be honest. Lying is stupid and unattractive. ”

“Tell me how you really feel.” Fuck him, that hurt on a cellular level. He wasn’t a liar. He was just tired.

And worried.

And he didn’t know what to do.

He’d never been who he was right now. His whole world had changed, and Quentin didn’t know how to make things right.

“How I really feel? Jesus Christ, asshole, I feel like you’re denying yourself something that you want, and like you’re denying Frost something that he wants.

And I feel like the simple fact is you two found each other in this whole fucking wide world.

You found each other; you fell in love. You’re still in love.

If you just let that go to hell, then you’re both stupid motherfuckers.

Because some of us are looking for it every goddamn day.

” Boone’s face was tense, expression serious, the lean whipcord body tight with emotion.

“Work your shit out. Q. Work your fucking shit out with him. You two are my fucking heroes. Don’t let this go because you’re in a goddamn wheelchair. ”

He sat there, the fork dangling from his fingers, his mind spinning, his heart cracking down the center.

“I’m scared, man.” It was easier to tell Boone than it was anybody else.

“I’m so scared. He doesn’t—He treats me like I’m glass, and every time he looks at me, there’s just guilt.

I want him to look at me like…like I’m the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

Like I’m going to take over his world, and he can’t wait to turn me inside out.

I think that’s gone. I’m fucking terrified that it’s gone, and I’m going to have to watch him fall in love with someone else from the cameras. ”

Boone sighed and shook his head. “Oh, honey. I’ve seen how Frost looks at you. He wants you like breathing. Eat your pie; your ice cream is melting.”

He nodded. “There’s no reason to waste a perfectly good piece of pie. Not for something silly like love.”

“You got that shit right.” Boone offered him a grin. “Now brainstorm with me. What do you reckon is in Tug’s boxes?”

“I don’t know, but if Frost had to get involved, that means they were expensive.”

“Well, yeah. Tug does love to spend Frost’s money.”

He had to laugh at that as he licked ice cream off his fork. “Tug loves to spend everyone’s money.”

Somehow, though, he felt…better.

Lighter.

Maybe less in his own head.

And he was totally ready for tomato soup and grilled cheese.