He texted his closest teammates similar stuff. Got no answers, but they’d be in the locker room not looking at their phones, changing out, sweaty and beat and hurting, coming to terms with the idea this was the end of their season.
Maybe the end of my career. Maybe the last time I can call them my teammates.
He put his phone on the charger, got himself into his wheelchair and into the bathroom, glad his left leg had healed enough for that minimum of independence. Then back to bed, lights out, the head end lowered for sleep.
Through the long hours of the night, he lay there, flexing his calves to trigger aches and pains that shot through him, blasting his thoughts to scattered fragments. Then returning, again and again, to the fact that the season was over.
Chapter 19
Rusty shifted his weight in the saddle, adjusting to the ache in his thighs as they moved the herd to the next pasture. He’d been up far too early, borrowed the key Scott had been given to the local ice arena, and headed out in the pre-dawn light to bag-skate himself to exhaustion. The feel of the ice under his skates had been grounding. The workout had kept his mind blank of anything exceptharder, fasterfor two hours.
But when it was over, all his problems were still there.
The Rafters had lost, and that totally blew, but what had woken him before dawn and kept him awake was wondering if he should’ve done something different for Cross. Said something else. Insisted on staying on the call longer, since no way Cross was actually going to sleep.
He thought the phone sex had been okay. Way more than okay on his end, of course, but he thought Cross’s expression had lightened. Like it took his mind off things, for a few minutes. Cross hadn’t wanted to come, though. A month out from his surgeries, that surely wasn’t just from pain anymore. So whatever he said about being attracted to Rusty, it didn’t translate to wanting him. Or wanting him enough.
Rusty had googleddemisexual,but the results were confusing. In general, demisexual people supposedly liked sex if they were with the right person, someone they’d grown attracted to over time. Otherwise, they didn’t like sex or didn’t want it with other people. Everything he read kept saying individuals varied,though. It wasn’t a great key to unlock the mystery that was Cross—
“Hey, Rusty. Heads up!”
He looked around in time to spot the heifer trying to make a break past him. Rusty sent Misty, Scott’s big mare that he was riding, after the escapee and clung to his saddle with aching legs as she swerved and dodged. When they’d headed the cow back to the herd, Misty shook her head till her bit jangled, as if frustrated with Rusty holding her back.
“Sorry, girl.” He patted her neck and loosened the reins so she could stretch.
“Falling asleep on the job?” Kris asked, jogging up alongside on Congo.
“That loss last night sucked.”
“Yeah. Scott’ll be bummed.”
Rusty coughed, becausebummedwas a pretty lowkey word for it. But then, Kris was all about the ranch and only cared about hockey because she idolized Will and Will loved Scott. Well, a bit for Rusty’s sake too. She was his best friend. So maybe he could talk to her about things.
He asked, “Do you like sex?” Then backpedaled fast. “Sorry, stupid question, forget I even mentioned it.”
“Yeah, I do.” She grinned. “And let me give the thumbs up for an older, experienced significant other. In case you were wondering. Don’t you like it?”
“Yeah. Hell, yeah, sex is awesome. Well, mostly.” He’d had a few awkward hookups he would just as soon forget.
“So why the question— Hey! Yahh!” Kris urged Congo forward to cut off a trio of cows with calves at heel, sending them back to the herd.
Rusty hoped she’d forgotten the discussion, but once things had settled down, she wandered back his way.
“So about sex?”
“Ew, you know, never mind. It’s like talking about stuff with a sister.” Except he’d have been beaten to a pulp for even saying the word around Mary or Janet.Don’t think about them.“Don’t you have cattle to wrangle?”
“Not half as much fun as making you turn red.” But Kris headed off to do her job.
An hour later, when they had the whole herd safely latched on the far side of the gates, she swung down from Congo and looked up at him. “Come on, grab your lunch and sit with me.”
He dismounted, hiding a wince as his boots hit the ground, and led Misty after Kris and Congo to a quiet clump of trees and rocks. Behind them, a couple of the other hands took up some kind of argument about music. Ahead of them, one of the streams that crisscrossed the ranch bubbled over a fallen log.
They untacked and put halters on the horses, leaving them to drink and graze. As they unpacked bottled water and sandwiches from their saddlebags, Rusty ran through conversation openers in his mind. Kris led the way over to a couple of boulders and sat, but stuffed food in her mouth rather than interrogating him. Rusty was happy to do the same. Only when their empty bellies were happier did Kris lean back, rotating her ankles and stretching her shoulders.
“So.” She didn’t look at him, just gazed up at the wide blue sky.
“So?” he asked when the silence dragged out.
