Letting Hearts Heal (7 page)

“I appreciate you saying that, Joe.”

“You and Dean were good boys. Still are. What Dean is doing with the ranch…. Old Mr. Walker would never have approved, but Dean’s got vision his father never even dreamed of. I’m betting you achieved something while you were gone too.”

“Nothing like this.” Mason sighed.

“Different doesn’t mean less.”

“I suppose you’re right. I guess what I accomplished was more for myself than for anyone else, though. I worked my way from bussing tables to being a chef in an Italian restaurant in Manhattan without going to culinary school or anything.”

Joe whistled. “That’s something, son. What are you doing back here, then?”

“Just because you reach the top doesn’t mean there are any guarantees that you’ll stay there.”

“An unavoidable lesson in life.”

They worked in silence for a while. Mason was deep in thought until he remembered something. “Hey, Joe? Do you know of a cheap place to stay in town? I can’t keep imposing on Dean.”

Joe spread the last hay bale and looked at Mason with a strange expression on his face that Mason decided to ignore. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Can’t say that I do, but Karen might know. You should ask her.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

Mason had been thinking about it since the first morning on the ranch, and the previous night’s kiss had emboldened him to do something about it. He was grateful that Dean had offered him a place to stay the night of the storm, but he hadn’t been after charity. He was going to thank Dean for the job by giving it all he had, but staying at the ranch was starting to grate on his pride and maybe complicate things. He’d have loved to stay at the bunk house, but it was full. Perhaps regaining full control of his life would be healthy. That meant overcoming fears, which wasn’t something he was necessarily ready for, but it also meant having a home.

Absentmindedly saying good-bye to Joe, Mason made his way back to the house. He’d asked to borrow Dean’s office to make some phone calls. He was keeping in touch with the people he was trying to recruit for the store, and he wanted to touch base and check the status of their products.

The house was quiet, and Mason went straight for the office so he wouldn’t be in Dean’s way later. He was dialing when the office door swung open, revealing Dean, still wearing his coat and not looking recovered enough to be working outside yet. Wyatt stood behind him.

“You’re leaving?”

Mason cursed Old Joe and his gossiping ways—very fast gossiping ways, apparently. “I can’t stay in your guest room forever.”

“Wyatt, take off your jacket and go play for a while,” Dean said, taking off his own coat.

The boy darted out of the office, probably eager to play instead of following Dean.

“I thought you liked it here,” Dean said when they were alone.

“I do. I honestly don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t run into you that day… which is why I feel like I need to get out of your hair. I didn’t spend a decade away from here being homeless, you know. I had a life and a job and a home. By giving me a job, you’ve given me the chance to get my life back.”

“But you just said you like it here. Why can’t the ranch be your home?” Dean looked so beaten and vulnerable that Mason had to resist gathering him in his arms and never letting go.

“Because it’s your home. And Wyatt’s. I’m not trying to be difficult, Dean, but it’s important to me to have something that’s my own. What I own, I can carry on my back.”

“Then buy a car. I’m serious. If you don’t like the guest room, we can fix up the apartment above the garage or one of the cabins. I know it’s selfish, but I… I can’t let you go again. Everything was a mess before you came… with Wyatt and everything.”

Mason hesitated. If he looked beyond his pride, he was tempted. He did like it at the ranch—in fact, he loved it. And Dean admitting that he didn’t want to let him go again did things to his heart that he couldn’t even describe. He didn’t know what kind of chance they had together after so many years, but he didn’t want to let Dean go again. But to keep Dean close, Mason needed to explain some things… and he didn’t know how.

“At least reconsider,” Dean said before Mason could figure out what to say.

Mason nodded. “I will.”

“If this is about last nigh—”

“It’s not,” Mason said. It wasn’t… and it was. Dreaming of a happy ending was dangerous, so Mason was trying not to. But if he ever wanted one, getting his life together seemed like a good start.

Things were tense after that. Dean became a brooding mess and didn’t talk much, and Mason felt bad for having caused it—especially because it also affected Wyatt. Hoping Dean would lighten up around his son and start forming the bond they so obviously needed, Mason took to spending much of his time helping out at the ranch, riding, and getting to know the hired hands. And he made quite a discovery.

Many of old Mr. Walker’s parting words to Mason were still stuck in his mind—often making appearances in the fire nightmares he kept having. The words had been plenty and colorful, but few had stayed as permanently etched as the “you’re defective, boy” insult slung at his departing back by Dean’s father when he’d thrown him out and told him never to come back.

Seeing the current ranch hands made Mason think of a guy who used to work there. Mason didn’t remember the guy’s name, but he remembered he’d been thrown from one of the horses and gotten really hurt. When he returned to work after a while, he walked with a noticeable limp. And then suddenly one day, he was gone. Fired. No doubt because he’d been defective too.

Dean was nothing like his father. Helping out where he could, Mason discovered that Old Joe was indeed old—probably too old to be foreman on a ranch. He didn’t do even close to half the work he’d been doing nine years earlier, but he was still treasured by Dean and respected by everyone. Roy, the butcher who didn’t cook, walked with a more visible limp than the guy Mr. Walker had fired. At least three of the other hands had visible disabilities. Mike had lost a leg in Afghanistan, Cameron was missing a finger, and Dave wore an eye patch. In Dean’s father’s eyes, they would have been defective. But Dean had taken them in—maybe on purpose, maybe not. But they were on the ranch, nonetheless. Mason wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the hands would have been defective in the eyes of the late ranch owner too.

When Mason wasn’t helping the others on the ranch, he was busy filling the shelves at the store with as many local products he could track down. He was amazed by how many people had hobbies that actually resulted in something worth selling. And he was even more amazed that he actually enjoyed chatting with people and listening to them when they talked passionately about their jams or their woven baskets or their felted purses. It was intensely rewarding to see Karen place a new product on the shelves—almost as satisfying as creating a dish, cooking it to perfection, and serving it. Almost.

“I think I saw your brother in town today.”

Mason looked up from the product descriptions he was trying to make for the website in Dean’s office—big emphasis on
trying
. “Huh?”

Dean half smiled—which was twice as much smile as Mason had seen on his face for days—and stepped inside. “Your brother. The oldest one…. I can’t remember his name. I’m pretty sure it was him I saw at the hardware store.”

“Graham.”

“Did he move back here?” Dean put a stack of papers on the desk and sat down.

“No idea.”

“You guys don’t talk?”

Mason sighed and bit back a really nasty retort, annoyed at the mere mention of his family. “Did the guy you rescued from a blizzard honestly look like he had a lot of options? Options like crashing with a friendly sibling for the night?”

“No, but I figured that… well, I don’t know what I figured. But family is family.”

Snorting, Mason looked up. “No, Dean. Family is not family. Christ, man. You know how I was raised, you know I was gone for nine years, you know that I was clueless about my aunt passing away. And if gossip in town is like it used to be, then you also know that I didn’t come back for my parents’ funerals. Does that indicate that I have any kind of relationship with my siblings and would know where the hell they move or don’t move?”

“Jesus. Calm down. I was just asking.”

“Yeah. I’ll calm down.” Mason stood up. “And I’ll do it outside.”

He tried not to storm out like a teenager in a hissy fit, but even thinking about his family made him angry. If he continued talking about them, he’d probably end up saying something to Dean he’d regret later.

“I’m sorry, Mase.” Dean followed Mason out on the front porch, where it was freezing. The wind was picking up as twilight approached.

Mason rubbed his forehead. “Can we just not talk about them? Ever?”

“Sounds like you need to, though.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dean.”

Dean held up his hands, looking a tiny bit amused, which only made Mason more annoyed. “I know. I know. Sorry. I’m just saying that holding it in might not be a good thing.”

“I’m angry with them. They’ve disappointed me, betrayed me, and thrown me out like I was last week’s trash. Excuse me for being touchy when I think about them, let alone talk about them.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean hesitated. “Did they find out you’re gay?”

“Yeah.” Teenage Mason had shared everything with Dean—including his fear that his Bible-loving, belt-toting dad would find out about his sexuality.

“All right,” Dean said after a moment. “I won’t pry. But I’ll listen if you want me to.”

Mason didn’t formulate a proper reply before Dean had gone back inside. It was too cold to stay out, so Mason followed. He saw Dean drinking coffee in the kitchen, but headed for the office to finish up whatever it was he’d been doing there. He couldn’t remember what it was. The old rejection filled up his mind.

It nagged him the rest of the day. He thought about the family he’d rather forget and about how Dean had said he’d listen. As much as Mason did not want talk, he felt like he had to. He was hiding so much, and he’d never hidden anything from Dean before.

Dean had just tucked Wyatt in when Mason finally cracked. For so long he’d been able to keep everything about himself inside and not open up to anyone. At first he hadn’t wanted to, and later it became so much of a habit that he thought he’d lost the ability. Turned out he hadn’t, though.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

Dean looked up from the notebook in his lap. “Yeah? It just so happens that I love it. What was I right about this time?”

“Ass,” Mason said without heat. He joined Dean on the couch, but sat at the opposite end.

“I could tell you that I’m always right about ass, but….”

“Aspiring for a stand-up comedy career? Because I can shoot that down for you right now.”

Dean chuckled. “Not really. I’ve got enough to do already, but thanks for your vote of confidence.”

Mason smiled, but it faded quickly as he tried to find the right words for the explanation he owed Dean. “You said you’d listen.”

Chapter 6

“A
ND
I
will,” Dean said softly, closing the notebook and putting it on the coffee table. He’d wondered when Mason was going to start talking, but had tried to take the patient approach.

Mason sighed and stared at the wall for a moment before saying anything. “I suppose I should have confided in you nine years ago, but I hope you’ll understand why I didn’t when I tell you what happened.”

Dean nodded. Forgiveness had happened almost without him noticing, but understanding would be nice.

“It was one of the weekends that you didn’t come home from college. I don’t remember the reason, maybe you had a test to study for or something. I was writing you a letter when my mom called me from the kitchen to help her with something. In my absence, my dad saw the letter on my desk and read it. I’m sure you remember the kind of letters we used to write each other.”

“Of all the ways to find out….” Dean shook his head. They’d both been so afraid of their parents finding out.

Mason sighed again. “Yeah. In the middle of his screaming and my mom crying, they threw me out of the house. I barely had time to pack a bag. And you know what the last thing they said to me was? That they never should have adopted me. Hell of a way to find out that little detail.”

“What? Was it true?”

“Yeah. It was true. Before I left town, I went to see Father Preston, and he helped me with a copy of my birth certificate. But first I came here. I figured I’d ask your dad for more hours and a stay at the bunk house.”

Dean felt his insides turn to ice. Surely his own father hadn’t turned Mason away. “He said no?”

“My dad had already called him. He….”

“He what?”

“He threw me out too.” Mason closed his eyes.

“Why’d he throw you out?” It was beginning to make sense, but he needed to hear it.

“Because I was gay, because I was ruining his son with my perverted ways, because I was defective. He had a lot of reasons that day, but the one that mattered is that he somehow knew that we’d been hiding for a while, and he said that it could ruin you if it got out that you’d been with a minor. The threats, the insults, the screaming… and that was the thing that mattered, Dean. I’m sorry. By the time I left, he had me convinced that the only way you’d avoid getting in trouble was if I just disappeared. It wasn’t until later that I realized he’d played me—used my feelings for you against me. Well, against us.”