Conquer the Flames (Langs Down) (26 page)

T
HORNE
woke up the next morning fully hard and in desperate need of the loo, but getting out of bed would mean disturbing Ian, who had wrapped himself around Thorne like a rather large koala. He hated to wake Ian, but he would have to get up soon or he’d embarrass himself, not to mention he had no idea how Ian would react to feeling his morning erection.

If that weren’t enough, he could feel tendrils of memory curling around the edges of his mind, susurrations of doubt that reminded him what had happened the last time he slept with a man this way. He pushed the thought away, but the damage was done. He couldn’t stay here any longer, even if he woke Ian to get away.

He did his best to disentangle himself gently rather than throw Ian’s arms away from him. Ian wasn’t the source of his discomfort and didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. He’d taken a huge step in trusting Thorne enough to sleep in the same bed with him last night. Thorne certainly didn’t want them to backslide, but he had to get up.

Now.

“Thorne?” Ian mumbled.

“I need the loo,” Thorne said, wincing at how sharp the words sounded to his own ears. Ian seemed a little taken aback, but he let Thorne up. Thorne pulled on his jeans but didn’t bother with his shirt as he left the room as quickly as he could.

He locked himself in the loo and tried to steady his breathing. He had to get it together or Ian would come looking for him before long. If he’d been smart, he would have told Ian he was going to take a shower. Then he’d have an excuse to be gone for ten or fifteen minutes. He’d never had that kind of time in the shower in the military, but Ian wouldn’t necessarily know that. As it was, he had a minute or two at most before Ian would wonder where he’d gone to or what was wrong.

He really did need the loo, so he took care of business and pulled the façade of control that had saved his arse so many times in the Commandos around him before he walked back to Ian’s room. If he was lucky, Ian would’ve rolled over and gone back to sleep.

He wasn’t lucky.

“Is everything okay?” Ian asked as soon as the door closed behind Thorne.

Thorne almost lied and assured him everything was fine, but Ian was looking at him with such an open expression that Thorne couldn’t make the lie form. “You don’t really want to hear my sob story, do you?”

“I’m sure it’s not a sob story,” Ian said, “but even if it is, yes, I want to hear it. Anything you can share with me.”

Thorne couldn’t help noticing the choice of words. Not everything, but anything you can share. Either because it was classified or too painful to discuss, Ian would accept the gaps in the tales Thorne told, but this one wasn’t classified, and if it was too painful to discuss, maybe that meant he needed to say it aloud, to lance that memory the way one lanced a boil.

“Last night was only the second time I’ve slept that way with someone in my arms,” Thorne said. “The first time… ended badly.”

“What happened?” Ian asked, a stricken look on his face.

“Nothing like what you’re thinking,” Thorne said immediately, remembering the weekend after he finished high school. “Daniel was my best friend. We’d just got our HSCs, and I’d told my parents I was going to stay over at his house so we could celebrate. We did that so often that they didn’t think anything of it. They didn’t know we’d managed to sneak a box of condoms and had decided that was the big night. We were going to lose our virginities together and then we’d be real men. We thought we were in love. It was going to seal our relationship forever.”

Thorne could still remember the way it had felt to touch and kiss Daniel. It had been sly and secretive, but it hadn’t felt shameful. Not then. The shame had come later.

“We fell asleep after it was done, curled around each other like we didn’t have a care in the world,” Thorne said. “Daniel’s mother woke us up before dawn the next morning. I’d never seen her cry until then.”

“Because you were together?” Ian asked, horrified.

“No,” Thorne said. “I wish it had been that simple. She came to tell me there’d been a fire. It destroyed my house and killed my parents and younger brother. While I was at Daniel’s house getting laid, they were dying.”

Thorne hated how detached the words sounded, but he’d spent so long forcing all that behind a solid wall that he recounted the story now like an outsider rather than someone who had lived it. He didn’t even know how to hurt for them anymore.

“Your being there wouldn’t have changed anything,” Ian said softly. “Except you would have died with them. I’m sorry you lost them that way, but I can’t be sorry you’re still alive. I just can’t.”

Thorne had been. He’d taken one look at the desolation his life had become and he’d considered ending it right there. It would’ve been so easy, which was probably why Daniel’s mum insisted he stay with them for a few weeks. At least that way someone was checking on him, making sure he ate and slept and bathed. He’d had to borrow Daniel’s clothes because his had all been destroyed in the fire. It had taken him a month to realize he had to do something for himself. He’d joined the military the next day and had refused to look back.

“You don’t know that,” Thorne said. “I might have still been awake. I might have woken them up before they burned to death. I might have saved them.”

“You might have,” Ian said. “You certainly would if it happened now, but you were eighteen. You were a kid. It wasn’t your responsibility then, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for living now.”

Thorne nearly snapped at Ian for that, but as angry as it made him, Ian was right. He couldn’t have done anything except die with them, and he liked to think he’d lived a life worth being proud of in the Commandos. His parents would have wanted him to make something of himself, even if a career in the military wasn’t what they would have chosen. They’d still be proud if they could see him, because he’d made a difference in the world.

“It’s not as easy as saying that,” Thorne said instead.

“Believe me, I know,” Ian said. “My list of issues because of my family is as long as my arm, and I’m not even going to pretend I have them under control. I just hate to see you beating yourself up over something you couldn’t have changed. Come back to bed. It’s still too early to be awake.”

Thorne chuckled. “This from the man who gets up before dawn every morning to go to work?”

“Just because I
can
do it when I have to doesn’t mean I want to do it when I have the chance for a lie-in,” Ian retorted. “Come back to bed.”

Thorne had started back toward the bed, already in the process of taking his jeans back off, when doubt took him. It was one thing last night, when they were both too exhausted to do anything but sleep. It was another thing entirely this morning.

“Don’t be a drongo,” Ian said. “I’m going back to sleep and you should too, and you’ll be more comfortable without your jeans. I trust you.”

The import of those three little words was not lost on Thorne. If they weren’t quite the words he wanted to hear, they were nonetheless important, possibly more important. Ian couldn’t love him if he didn’t trust him. He tossed his jeans on the floor and climbed back into bed, intending to pull Ian against him as he had the night before, but Ian had other ideas, tugging on Thorne’s shoulder so he ended up with his cheek pillowed on Ian’s chest, his nose buried in the crook of Ian’s neck.

Ian sighed contentedly and kissed the top of Thorne’s head. The simplicity of the gesture and the pure acceptance of the moment left Thorne fighting tears. He hadn’t let himself cry for his losses since he’d signed the papers for the army. He’d been the strong one, the dependable soldier, the leader at times. He’d been the one everyone else took their cue from even when he wasn’t the one in charge of a mission. He’d buried his heart deep and become the poster boy for military control and precision. It had saved his life more times than he could count, but it had taken a different kind of toll, and now he had a lifetime of grief built up behind those walls. His heart wanted out so it could take everything a life with Ian had to offer, but Thorne was afraid what else would be unleashed if he took down those walls.

He had a chance at a real life, a real family again. The seasonal jackaroos would come and go, but he’d seen the way the year-rounders had already started including him, as if his staying with Ian was a foregone conclusion. Neil and Molly, Chris and Jesse, even Caine and Macklin didn’t want him for his skills. They’d watched Ian teaching him things the youngest child on the station already knew. Dani already knew which snakes were dangerous, but Ian had to warn Thorne. Laura rode like she’d been born in the saddle, and Thorne could still barely keep his balance at anything faster than a trot. Patrick’s son Jason had arrived home from uni and whatever veterinary internship he was currently doing for the Christmas holidays a few days ago, and watching him with Polly, his dog, was exactly like watching Jeremy and Arrow. Thorne didn’t even know the most basic commands. They didn’t need him, but they had made him welcome anyway because they recognized a kindred spirit.

He had enjoyed that kind of brotherhood with his first Commandos team, but after their massacre, he’d held back from investing to the same degree. He’d worked with his new team, fought to protect them, and trusted them to protect him, but it hadn’t been the same. For the first time since he carried Walker to med evac, he felt the same stirrings of family he’d lost when he’d returned to find his team dead, and this time, he could accept those outstretched hands with little risk. Life on Lang Downs might never be predictable, but it didn’t come with the inherent risks that dogged any Commandos team. Thorne could be part of their family without having to worry about a group of guerrillas or a stray bullet from friendly fire taking it away from him. He could trust them the way Ian trusted him.

He muffled the sob that wanted to escape against Ian’s throat. Ian didn’t say anything; he just tightened his grip on Thorne and waited, giving him the space to come to terms with this epiphany. Thorne only hoped that when Ian finally opened up about his own past, he could offer the same kind of solace and peace.

Nineteen

T
HE
return to Lang Downs was anticlimactic in a way that only reinforced Thorne’s feeling that this could be home. Nobody seemed surprised to see him. Nobody made any comment about how much, or how little, he’d brought back with him from Wagga Wagga. Neil just told him to stow his gear and get to work. He didn’t even say that much to Ian.

Not that Ian needed Neil to say anything to him. He’d already grabbed his duffel bag and tossed it on the veranda and was changing his boots from the “good” ones he wore to town to the grubby ones he wore in the paddocks.

“Neil said to get to work, but he didn’t tell me what to do,” Thorne said. “Any suggestions?”

The barking of dogs drew their attention before Ian could reply. When Thorne looked back at Ian, Ian had a grin on his face. “As a matter of fact….” He whistled sharply, drawing the attention of the dogs and the man standing with them.

“Ian, you’re back!”

As the man drew nearer, Thorne recognized Jason, Polly and Arrow cavorting at his feet.

“Just now,” Ian said. “I need to go check in with my crew, but Thorne doesn’t ride well enough yet to head out with me.”

“Want me to give him a riding lesson?” Jason asked. “I taught Seth.”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d teach him to work with the dogs,” Ian said. “One of the bitches is expecting a new litter, and I was thinking about claiming one. I haven’t had a dog of my own in a while, and it seems like a good time to get one. Thorne should know how to work with it too.”

“Sure,” Jason said. “Polly and I’ll get him all sorted. He can’t be any more clueless than Caine was when we started.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Thorne said. “I’m pretty clueless about anything that doesn’t involve military procedures.”

“Next to that, this is a breeze,” Jason assured him. “Come on. We’ll see if there are any sheep in the sheds for us to practice on.”

“Maybe we should just start with basic commands,” Thorne said. “I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with real sheep.”

“We don’t have a training course set up,” Jason explained, “although with a new litter on the way, I imagine Neil and Macklin will build one. Polly’s a work dog, not a show dog. If you give her commands that have no purpose, she’s going to get annoyed with you. When she hears something, she expects to act a certain way with the sheep, not just for the hell of it.”

That made sense, actually. Thorne had always hated the training exercises that had them going through empty motions. “Okay, but don’t let me do anything that would hurt her or the sheep.”

“She’s too smart to get into trouble with the sheep,” Jason said. “Don’t worry about that. If you give an order that doesn’t make sense, she’ll let you know.”

Thorne wasn’t sure how he felt about a kelpie being smarter than him, but he figured somebody had to be in this situation. “So where do we start?”

An hour later, Thorne had an even greater respect for the men and women he worked with, not to mention for the dogs they used to help manage the sheep. Jason was the epitome of patience when it came to teaching, and Polly obediently followed Thorne’s orders except when he gave an obviously wrong one, but Thorne still felt like that happened far more often than it should have.