Conquer the Flames (Langs Down) (32 page)

“Look, whatever it is, it’s not as bad as it seems right now,” Neil said. “I’ve seen you two together. I know how gone he is over you. Give it ’til evening so you can both calm back down, and I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

If only it were that simple.

“That’s not going to be easy when he isn’t here,” Ian muttered.

“What? Did you say not here? Where is he?”

“On his way to Wagga Wagga,” Ian replied. “I said I didn’t want to talk about this.”

“Uh-huh. Why is he going to Wagga Wagga? Weren’t you just there? It’s not that friend of his, is it? I didn’t take him for the cheating kind.”

“It’s not his friend, and he’s not cheating,” Ian said with a sigh. “He had another flashback, panic attack, blackout, something last night. He’s going to get treatment. I have no idea how long he’ll be gone.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Ian repeated. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about this.”

“Look, I know you’ll miss him, but it’s not your fault and—”

“But it
is
my fault,” Ian snapped. “I’m the reason he snapped last night, and then instead of riding it out and helping him, I ran and hid like a coward because I couldn’t stand to see the look on his face after what I told him.”

They reached the edge of the first paddock and rode through the gate, then closed it behind them before Neil spoke again. “I can’t imagine any look on his face where you’re concerned besides adoration. Maybe bewildered adoration, but he looks at you the way Macklin looks at Caine. Whatever you thought you saw on his face, it either wasn’t directed at you or it wasn’t what you thought it was.”

“You weren’t there,” Ian said. “You didn’t see how angry he was.”

“At you?” Neil repeated.

Ian wasn’t honestly sure. “Maybe not, but he was shouting, and I was upset too, and I had to get away. He punched the wall so hard he left a dent in it. His hand was so swollen this morning he couldn’t make a fist.”

“I think maybe you need to start at the beginning,” Neil said. “What happened?”

“I told you,” Ian deflected.

“You told me you were the reason he snapped. You didn’t tell me why you think that,” Neil insisted.

“He asked about my life before I came to Lang Downs,” Ian said. “I didn’t want to tell him, but he insisted. He didn’t like the answer when I finally gave in.”

“I don’t see how finding out you were a foster child would make him angry enough to hit a wall,” Neil said.

“That’s because I told him the whole story,” Ian said with a sigh. “The story I only ever told Michael.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed as he steered his horse closer to Ian’s. “And that upset him enough that he lost it?”

Ian nodded.

“We’re going to talk about this more,” Neil said, “but we need to check out that fence first.” He pointed to a section of sagging fence a hundred feet or so down the fence line.

They dismounted and checked the fence. The post and wire were still intact. The fastening had simply come loose, and a couple of knocks with a hammer set it to rights.

“I get not wanting to talk about the past,” Neil said when they had mounted again and continued down the fence line. “I’m pretty sure Molly doesn’t know half the things I’ve done that I regret, but that’s mostly because it’s never come up. So obviously it came up, or you wouldn’t have mentioned it to Thorne if Michael’s the only person you ever told.”

“My foster father was abusive,” Ian said. “I reacted badly to something, and Thorne asked. He deserved the truth, so I told him. He didn’t take it well.”

“Nobody would take well to hearing someone they loved was abused,” Neil pointed out.

“It wasn’t just abuse,” Ian mumbled. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to tell Neil and have Neil look at him differently. He’d already run off his lover. He didn’t want to lose his best friend as well.

The lines around Neil’s mouth deepened as he frowned. “Well, fuck.”

A bark of bitter laughter escaped Ian’s throat. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“And you didn’t say anything all these years?”

“What difference would it have made?” Ian asked. “I was here on the station alone.”
Safe.
“I wasn’t interested in anyone. Nobody was interested in me. He couldn’t get to me here even if he’d bothered to come looking. It didn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” Neil said with such gravity that Ian felt tears spring to his eyes. He dashed them away. He’d done enough crying last night alone in his bed. He didn’t have time for this now. “It matters because you’re my friend and because nobody should have to be alone with that kind of hurt.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Ian said. “I might not have told you, but I haven’t been alone since I got here. Not in any way that matters. You know that.”

“I know,” Neil said, “but I think you have been alone, or you were until Thorne came. He loves you, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me last night,” Ian said. “I love him too, but all the love in the world can’t fix what’s wrong with us.”

“He has PTSD or something similar, and you have an abusive past,” Neil summed up, “but neither of those things are the end of the world. You said he went to Wagga Wagga to get help. You could find someone too, you know. In Cowra, even if not in Boorowa. You could go on your day off each week.”

“I can barely stand to talk to you about what happened,” Ian protested. “How is talking to a stranger even remotely a good idea?”

“You don’t have to live and work with that stranger,” Neil said. “I’m not going to treat you any differently because of what you just told me, but with a stranger, you don’t ever have to wonder if the next thing you say will be the one that changes things between us. I don’t know what happened last night, but if it upset you enough that you had to tell Thorne about it in order to explain how you were acting, you haven’t put it behind you. And if it’s going to keep getting in the way of being with Thorne, don’t you owe it to yourself and to him to deal with it so it doesn’t get in the way anymore?”

A crack of thunder interrupted them before Ian could reply.

“I don’t like the look of those clouds,” Neil said.

Ian didn’t either. Lightning crackled ominously across the sky. “I don’t think we’re getting back to the valley before that hits.”

“No,” Neil agreed. “There’s a drovers’ hut a couple of klicks from here. I think that’s our best bet.”

They spurred their horses across the paddock, racing hard against the wind. The first fat drops of rain splattered across the brims of their hats, making Ian wish he’d worn his Driza-Bone, but as hot as it was, he hadn’t wanted the extra layer of the thick coat. He regretted it now, as the rain increased and soaked his shirt. The horses were galloping flat-out, but they couldn’t outrace the storm, and they were drenched by the time they reached the drovers’ hut. They got their horses into the lean-to and wiped down, then went inside to dry out a little themselves.

“It’s too hot for a fire, but we’ll never dry otherwise,” Neil complained. “Why did we decide to ride fences today again?”

“Because I needed to not be around people and you were too stubborn to listen to me?” Ian suggested.

“You’re the one who was stubborn,” Neil retorted. “I told you the weather was supposed to get bad, but you couldn’t stay in the valley and repair tack or something else that would let you be alone and somewhere dry. No, you had to insist on coming out to check fences.”

“I’d have finished the tack in an hour,” Ian said, “and then what was I supposed to do?”

“Have a cup of tea and stay dry?” Neil said. “Get a fire going. I’ll radio in to let Caine know we’re safe and then see what’s in the cupboards that we can heat up while we’re stuck here.”

Ian rolled his eyes at Neil but laid a fire in the grate as directed. They would need the heat from it to get their clothes dry and to keep from catching a chill. It might make the cabin uncomfortably warm, but it would be better than getting sick. By the time he had a merry blaze going in the fireplace, Neil had come back with a tea kettle. “Caine says to wait out the storm here.”

“That’s what we’d planned anyway,” Ian agreed. “There wasn’t any soup or anything?”

“There was, but tea first, until we see how long the storm’s going to last. If it clears, we can head back to the station for lunch.”

Ian hung the kettle over the flames and peeled off his soaked shirt. His undershirt wasn’t in any better shape, but he left it on anyway. Neil grabbed two towels and tossed one at his head. Ian caught it and flipped Neil off. Neil just grinned back at him. The entire exchange was so typical that Ian felt something inside him unknot. They hadn’t resolved anything, but Ian had told Neil the truth and it hadn’t changed them. Neil was still a smart arse, and Ian was still his foil, and they could still take the piss.

The kettle boiled, Ian made tea, and they sat drinking it in silence.

“This is probably none of my business,” Neil said after a while, “but things were good between you and Thorne before he left, right? I mean, in bed. You’re not worried he’s going to hurt you or anything.”

All sense of comfort fled.

“I’m not worried he’s going to hurt me,” Ian said, and he wasn’t. With everything else he worried about, he didn’t worry about Thorne forcing him.

Neil frowned. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

Ian ran his hand through his hair and realized randomly that it was getting long again. He’d have to get Sarah or Carley to cut it again soon. Neil was waiting for an answer, though, and Ian knew he wouldn’t wait for long.

“I’m not… comfortable with much,” Ian admitted. “I was sixteen when I went to live with my last foster family. I didn’t know any other gay kids. I spent two years in hell, and then I ran. I didn’t want anything to do with sex. I came here, and it wasn’t exactly on offer.”

“And you didn’t go looking for it, because why would you?” Neil finished. “Look, I’m not an expert on relationships and stuff, but sex is supposed to be fun and feel good and bring you closer to the person you’re with. I know it wasn’t that way for you—and the fucker should be shot for what he did—but I don’t think no sex is the answer, especially not now that you have a great guy to have it with. Just, you know, spare me the details.”

“No details,” Ian promised. “That’s what happened last night. Things got a little intense and I panicked. Thorne wanted to know why. It’s not the first time he’s asked, but it’s the first time I answered him. He started cursing and shouting, at my foster father, not at me, but I was already freaked out, and I just couldn’t deal with any more.”

“So what did you do?” Neil asked.

“I locked myself in my room until I couldn’t hear him shouting anymore, then I went to bed alone for the first time in weeks, and I hated every second of it,” Ian said. “I don’t think I really slept until he came in to get dressed this morning and lay down with me instead.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Neil said. Ian nodded, not sure where that question was leading. “If you need to talk about this, I’ll listen, details and all, but I really think what I said earlier is even more true now. You need help I don’t know how to give you. You need to find someone who can help you let this go. I know it had to have been awful. I can’t imagine what living like that would do to a person, but I also know it was years ago and you have a chance for something really special. I don’t want you to lose that chance because you’re afraid to have sex with Thorne.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start looking,” Ian said.

“Me either, but Doc Peters would,” Neil said. “Hell, Caine might. It still amazes me the stuff he knows. The point is, we can find out, but you have to follow through. You have to believe in your relationship with Thorne enough to do what it takes to make it work.”

“Then I guess we’d better call him when we get back to the valley,” Ian said. “I’m scared to death, but I don’t want to lose Thorne. I won’t get a second chance.”

Twenty-Four

“
F
IFTEEN
years. Fifteen bloody years.” Macklin had a hell of a lot of sympathy for Thorne right now. The desire to put his fist into something was nearly overwhelming. The pedophile’s face would be his first preference, as he was sure it would have been Thorne’s, but the wall was looking like a better alternative with each passing moment.

“He didn’t want anyone to know,” Caine said. “You know how that feels. You didn’t want to tell me about your father either.”

“He knocked me around a few times,” Macklin said dismissively, “but nothing like what Ian went through.”

“He broke your arm because you didn’t stop a goal at a game your team won,” Caine retorted. “That’s more than just knocking you around a few times.”

“It’s still not rape,” Macklin said bluntly. “He’s lived with that stain on his heart for years, and I didn’t do anything to help.”

“I think you did,” Caine said. “I think you and Michael gave him a safe place to live, a place to call home where he didn’t have to think about it and where he could get on with his life.”

“It didn’t look like he’d got on with anything when he talked to us this morning,” Macklin said.