Will patted his shoulder. “Finish that bridle first. Don’t leave a job half done.”
When the tack was clean, they headed out together. At the barn door, Will stopped, his hat in hand, eyeing the sunset turning the western sky violet and gold. “I love this ranch, and summers are the best, havin’ everyone I care about here in one place. Winters are harder, with Scott so far away. We missed you too this year.”
“Thanks.” Knowingsomeoneback here had missed him besides Kris was a little balm for seeing his mother notice him in the grocery store two days ago and just keep on going down the next aisle.
“Long distance is a hell of a lot easier when you’re safe and settled. The first year with Scott in the AHL was rough on Case and me. Summer saved us.”
Rusty followed Will’s gaze out across the land to the rolling hills in the distance. Most of Kansas was flat, but the wide skies gave incredible sunsets.
He looked back to find Will eyeing him, his expression warm. “You know, I have enough summer hands with the new guys now. We’d miss you but it’d be okay, if you needed to go somewhere.” Will set his Stetson on his head and jogged across the gravel toward the big house. He took the front steps two at a time, his stride quickening, pulled open the door, and vanished inside.
If you needed to go somewhere.
Rusty pulled out his phone as he headed across the barnyard and down the lane. Sitting up on the rail fence of the pasture gave him an awesome shot of the sunset and he sent it to Cross.
~Wish you were here.
It was only six-thirty on the coast, so Cross might be at dinner. Or maybe back in his room, if he’d had no reason to linger. Rusty stayed put, the evening air cool on his skin, and waited.
His phone pinged.~Me too. Physio is a sadist.
~Do you have a date for your release from jail?Cross was supposed to go home once his left leg was healed enough to really take his weight. His house wasn’t laid out for a wheelchair.
~Another week. I’m fighting with Marie about needing live in help. I’ll need a driver but I can cook my own food on crutches and wipe my own ass. It should be my call.After a moment, Cross added,~Sorry. It’s not you I’m pissed at.
Rusty figured Cross knew Marie loved him, and there was nothing worse than being reasoned out of a snit, so he sent,~Yeah. Once you’re on crutches you’ll be fine. You did it withthat knee thing, right?Cross had damaged his MCL a few years back. It was in his player bio that yes, Rusty had read, back in hisit’s-just-a-crushdays.
~Exactly. Right? This sucks enough without having a nursemaid in my house.
Rusty stared at the horizon, where sun-gold was turning to deep red behind the scattered trees.
Thought about“This sucks enough.”
Remembered“If you needed to go somewhere.”
He didn’t actually have the money to ditch his summer job, but maybe he could wrangle something. Maybe he should jump in with both feet.
Rusty hesitated, his finger over the screen as the sunset faded. He didn’t want Cross to support him with his money, didn’t want to make false promises, didn’t want to live out of his fucking truck because he was too proud to admit he couldn’t afford a room. But he wanted to be there with Cross, be the one to drive him where he needed to go and listen, if he needed to rant.
In the end he just sent,~Want to video-watch a ball game tonight? Seattle’s playing.He checked online.~Starts in half an hour.
Cross sent back,~Sure. I want to hear you swear at the umpires.
~I can do that.
Calling wasn’t the same as being there, but if he could amuse Cross out of his funk, a bunch of umpires were going to get abused tonight.
He headed back to the house, pausing in the entry to listen for sounds of over-athletic fucking before venturing farther. All seemed quiet, so he headed to the kitchen for a bottle of beer to take up to his room and his little TV. He was surprised to find Scott there bending over the fridge, naked except for cut-off sweatpants, a red handprint visible above his sagging waistband. Scott turned and straightened to reveal a couple of fresh hickeys on his neck and chest, and more on his lean stomach, superimposed over a mess of old playoff bruises.
Scott grinned, clearly noting the direction of Rusty’s gaze. “Casey’s inclined to treat me as fragile at this point post season. I encouraged something different.” He pulled out a couple of beers, set them on the counter and reached back in. “Something I can get you?”
“Could go for a brew.”
Scott pulled out two more, bumped the door shut with his hip, and handed a bottle over. “Is Will going to be your massage test subject?”
Rusty realized, “I forgot to ask.”
“You had one job.” Scott shrugged. “Well, two, if you count clearing the decks for me and Case. Which you did, thank you.” He picked up the three beers, then paused. “Something else on your mind?”
