A Cowboy's Home (18 page)

“Then why did you come home? Why did Sam find
you here?”

“Because I’m stupid. Because some primitive
part of me thought I was dying and I wanted it to be on Crooked
Tree land.” The pain that banded Justin’s head ramped up; he felt
dizzy again, over-hot, and he needed to close his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Justin ignored the question. “What I did,
what I had to do—” He scraped his fingers through his hair, digging
his nails into his scalp, aware his brain was heading for a
shutdown. “—it has to be worth it, okay.”

“Justin, you’re not making any sense.”
Confusion warred with compassion in Ethan’s voice. “The cops, the
sheriff, me, we can protect you. We can make this right, take it to
the papers. Hell, I don’t know what, but you can’t leave again. I
love you, we all love you, and we want you back.”

The barrage of words, and the confusion made
things worse, but the compassion tipped Justin over the edge. He
gripped his brother’s shirt. “I have to leave, because I won’t let
them win, or hurt any of you.”

“Hey, little brother, calm down,” Ethan
looked right into Justin’s eyes. “You’re here. With me.”

But the words didn’t help, they couldn’t stop
the anger or the fear or the guilt that churned inside him. His
head hurt to the point that all he wanted to do was close his eyes
and sleep. That would be okay, right? Ethan was there; he’d look
after him, watch his back. And there was Sam; the man seemed to be
some kind of aide, someone who wanted to look after Justin.

Justin hadn’t had protection or care in a
very long time.

He leaned his forehead against Ethan’s,
feeling dizzy and exhausted, and his thoughts were incoherent to
his own ears. Only one thing was clear, the only thing pushing him
forward at that point, and he whispered it to Ethan.

“I only have one more person to kill, and
then I’m done.”

When Sam walked back into the cabin, he saw
the brothers gripping each other hard and heard Justin’s soft
words, “
I only have one more person to kill,
and then I’m
done
.”

His steps faltered momentarily. He didn’t
know what the hell was going on in Justin’s head, but the man was
screwed up, big time. He’d hoped Gabe would go in and see if they
were okay, only Gabe was in shock. He’d slumped to the ground
behind the cabin and hadn’t moved or spoken since they’d walked
out.

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked.

Justin didn’t look over but hunched in on
himself, pressing one hand at his temple, gripping Ethan’s shirt
hard with the other. Sam had nearly got up to them when Justin’s
eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled in Ethan’s arms.

Ethan half carried, half dragged Justin to
the bed, arranged the sheet over him, and sat on the chair at one
side, bending at the waist and cradling his face in his hands.
“Justin? Can you hear me?”

Sam stood uncertainly. Maybe he should leave,
but then what? Justin was facing him, his eyes closed, his features
scrunched up in pain—not unconscious, but clearly close to it. He
moved, rolled onto his front with a grunt, and then he lay
still.

Ethan was absolutely still too, staring down
at Justin with horror on his face.

“Ethan?” Sam moved in front of him, but there
was no focus there. “Ethan? Do you want me to get someone? Get
Aaron back?”

Ethan didn’t seem to hear him, and Sam wasn’t
sure if he should repeat what he’d said, stand there like an idiot,
or backpedal out of the cabin.

The last option wasn’t one he wanted to do.
Justin looked like death, and Ethan appeared utterly broken.

“I could find Adam,” Sam suggested
helpfully.

Adam and Ethan were the kind of couple Sam
aspired to be a part of one day: solid, strong, forever. Much like
Nate and Jay, who were disgustingly together in a completely
perfect kind of way.

Still no answer.

“Or your dad? Or Nate?”

Sam was fishing for a response. Half of him
was looking to get a reaction from the silent, sleeping, maybe
unconscious Justin.

Ethan finally looked up; his skin was ashen,
his eyes red. “I don’t know. I can’t tell you, he just said someone
wants to kill him. He’s scared, I think.”

Fuck. Ethan was in shock. Gabe was sitting
unmoving on the ground outside, and Justin was possibly
unconscious. That just left Sam.

I have to be the one to deal with this.

Fuck. My. Life.

So he did the only thing that felt right. He
phoned Adam and told him to bring Marcus to the cabin. Because all
this pussyfooting around wasn’t solving anything. Then he called
Aaron, hoping to hell the paramedic wouldn’t turn around and tell
him to fuck off.

Who knew Justin was there? Who didn’t know?
It wasn’t school, it was real life, and secrets festered and became
sores that never healed.

Through it all, Ethan didn’t move, just
stared at his brother until he heard Adam outside speaking to Gabe,
and then he left the room so fast that Sam knew he’d done the right
thing. For one of the brothers, at least.

Sam watched and didn’t move the entire time.
Marcus clutched his chest as he’d done the night before, and said
nothing. Adam held on tight to Ethan’s hand, pressing the fingers
of his free hand to his temple; he looked like the rug had been
pulled from under him.

And Justin slept through it all.

Marcus touched Justin—a soft, hesitant
connection that was achingly sad to watch—and cried.

Adam closed his eyes and stumbled out of the
room. God knows what memory had come back to make him so white.
Ethan looked between his dad and Adam, clearly torn as to who
needed him most.

Sam inclined his head.
I got your
dad.

With a grateful smile, Ethan followed Adam,
and so it was just Sam and Marcus, with Justin sleeping between
them.

“Tell me again how you found him.”

“In one of the old logger cabins.”

“And he was… okay there…?”

Now that was a leading question. Justin had
been far from okay. “Yeah.” That was the best answer all
around.

“Did he tell you where he’s been?”

“No, sorry.”

Marcus sat in silence for a long time, and
then he stood and stretched. “I need to go.” Without further
explanation he left again; seemed like he couldn’t stay anywhere
near his son.

And then it was just Sam.

“Come and lie with me.” Justin’s voice was
soft and insistent, and Sam took up his place next to him, shifting
a little so Justin could snuggle into him.

“You’re an expert at fake sleeping,” Sam
observed. “How’re you feeling?”

Justin sighed. He was still hot to the touch.
“I’m okay,” he finally said. “Fucking blew everything up but didn’t
clear the whole list, realized I lived a life that shouldn’t have
been mine, and now I want to be close to the man who pulled in the
entire state of Montana to gawk at me. But other than that, I’m
fine.”

Sam considered the words. He wasn’t sure what
list Justin meant or what he’d blown up, but he got the Montana
reference and the concept of Justin wanting to be close to him.
“Not the entire state. Just the parts closest to Helena.” Sam
didn’t focus on the other stuff Justin said—what was the point?
Justin wasn’t going to expand on any of it.

“How does Dad look to you?”

“Like Marcus, I don’t know what else to
say.”

“Is he doing okay, with the cancer?”

“I don’t know.” Sam felt pretty useless. “I’m
sorry.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for being my buffer,”
Justin added, that time clearer and louder.

“You’re welcome.”

“But I don’t thank you for getting Gabe.”

“I can understand that.” Sam smiled to
himself. “Next time I come across you dying in a cabin, I’ll be
sure to leave you there.”

“You should have,” Justin said.

“Stop saying things like that!” Sam smacked
him, right close to the wound on his thigh, which probably
hurt.

“What the fuck?” Justin wheezed in pain.

“All that self-serving heroic shit where you
make sweeping statements about how you should be dead.”

Justin shook his head, and then slid down the
bed a little. “I can try,” he said.

Sam twisted fingers in Justin’s hair and held
him still. “Good” was all he said.

It had to be enough.

Justin moved a little and nudged at the hand
that lay on his head, enough to have the fingers work their magic
in his hair again. He hoped that Sam wouldn’t give away that he was
awake.

“I can’t wrap my head around this.” That was
his dad, Marcus; Justin would recognize the voice anywhere. “Did
you do enough, Aaron? Should he be in a hospital?”

Someone touched Justin, just on his thigh. A
firm pressure, but it didn’t hurt as much as it had. He’d lost
consciousness a while back, or fallen asleep, or a bit of both, as
soon as Aaron began poking at his thigh.

Actually, probably not sleep at all.

Aaron had explained he needed to check the
wound and the dressing, and he had brought more antibiotics to deal
with the infection and the fever.

Justin didn’t care. He was too tired to
care.

“There you go, all done. He seems to be doing
okay. Keep an eye on his temperature. Call me if anything
changes.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said.

“I want this on record that
under duress
I’m keeping what is going on here
from Ryan. He’s the sheriff, and he needs to know,” Aaron said.
“You understand that this isn’t ethical and I’m breaking a hundred
rules.”

“I’ll owe you,” Ethan said. “I’ll tell anyone
who wants to know that I made you do it.”

Aaron sighed, noisily enough for Justin to
hear. “Call me, okay?”

The door opened and shut; another voice added
to the cacophony of sound in Justin’s head. His ears were ringing,
loud and constant, and he had to focus on the words to understand
them at all.

“How is he?”

“Did you remember anything after seeing him
here?” Marcus asked.

“Nothing.” The new voice—
Adam
—held so
much sorrow in it. “I didn’t see him properly that night in the
woods. I was sure it was him, but to have him here… I want to say
it’s all flooding back, but I just remember swimming, nothing
else.”

“It’s okay,” Ethan said.

Then there was silence. Was Ethan hugging
Adam? Reassuring him that everything was going to be okay? If he
was, then he was saying it without words.

Ethan spoke again. “Dad, you need to sit
down. You look gray.”

“I’m okay, son,” Marcus said gruffly.

The noise of furniture scraping on the
floor.

“Sit, you stubborn old fool,” Ethan said, but
with a teasing tone, without heat. Ethan wasn’t angry or
controlling; he was concerned. “You can go, Sam, I’ll stay.”

The body Justin was against,
Sam
,
moved as Ethan spoke. Sam’s chest rose, his words a rumble. “Okay,”
he said.

Dread flooded Justin. He moved a little and
gripped leather as Sam made to move. No way was he letting go; Sam
was his last barrier between himself and his family and having to
talk.

“Looks like he wants me to stay,” Sam
said.

“Justin?”

Ethan’s voice was closer, right next to
Justin’s ear, and he couldn’t fake it any longer. He opened his
eyes, blinking in the half-light, and for the first time in a long
time, was lost for words.

“Son,” Marcus said, tears rolling down his
face. “Son….”

His dad could only say the one thing, and he
reached over to touch Justin’s hand. So gently, a nothing touch,
but it clearly meant everything to Marcus.

A
sob
left
his dad’s mouth, and corresponding guilt and self-hatred flooded
Justin. He looked at his father, at the gray in his hair, at his
eyes bright with tears, at how he was touching him, and Justin felt
like the lowest of the low.

He’d destroyed everything and regretted it
all, then made peace with his actions. Now he had to open the box
and let that all out. He couldn’t look his dad in the face, so he
closed his eyes, but Sam was moving away and Justin had to open
them again to see Sam twisting off the bed to stand, then
stretching tall and yawning widely.

“I’m going back to Branches, okay? I’ll bring
some food back later. I won’t be gone long.”

“I’ll go with you,” Gabe said. “I need to
talk to Ashley and the kids. She knows something is up.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Justin said.

“Ashley isn’t just anyone,” Gabe snapped.
“She’s my fiancée, and we don’t have secrets.” Gabe was angry and
confused, and Justin would give anything to explain everything to
one of his oldest friends, but that wasn’t happening yet. There was
way too much anger and frustration in the room, and it all merged
into a kind of chaos that Justin couldn’t handle.

Justin coughed. “Too many people,” he
managed.

He couldn’t say
any
more,
because what little energy he had slid away from him,
and all he wanted to do was sleep.

“What happened?” Marcus asked, his voice
cracking. “You can’t keep fobbing us off, Justin. We need to
know.”

“Dad,” Ethan warned. “Maybe now isn’t a good
time.”

Justin could have kissed his brother.
“Witness protection,” he mumbled.

Marcus stared right at him. “Really? Like
Adam?”

Justin’s chest tightened; he couldn’t think
about Adam yet. How was he going to look him in the face?

“Dad, could I talk to Justin alone for a
while?” Ethan asked.

Justin wanted to shout no to that. He wanted
Sam to come back. He didn’t want his dad to leave, but damn if his
dad didn’t ease up out of the chair and pat Ethan on the back.

“We’ll talk in a bit,” Marcus said, leaning
over and pressing a kiss to Justin’s forehead. His eyes were damp
and he clung to Justin’s arm for the longest time. “I love you
son,” he murmured.