Page 5 of Something Unavoidable

A rushing sound filled his ears, and his lungs locked up, his chest squeezing tight. No.No, he wasn’t doing this now.

He took a gulp of scalding-hot coffee and coughed, his eyes tearing as it seared the roof of his mouth and burned a line down his throat. He did it again. Ow. Fuck. He needed to focus on something else. A distraction before the black hole in his brain opened up and sucked him in.

“Can you believe Hunter’s still policing my hookups?” he asked, latching on to the first thought he could grasp. “How many times do I need to tell him I don’t need a fucking Daddy?”

Archer snorted. “What makes you think I disagree with him?”

Izzy’s hackles went up, because fuck that. “Fuck you. I can handle myself.”

Archer shook his head. “You hope.”

Annoyance coursed through Izzy, and he grabbed on to it, letting it help to push the panic away.What the hell, Archer?Yeah, he hooked up with randoms, but he knew what he could handle and what he couldn’t. And at six-foot-three and two hundred pounds of solid muscle, he was more than capable of stopping someone if he wasn’t into what they were doing.

“You make everyone worry,” Alice piped up from beside him.

Izzy glowered at the side of her head, and the only reason he didn’t bite back was because it was Alice. He may be an asshole, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole.

He slumped with a huff. His friends didn’t trust him. Fine. Fantastic, even. He wasn’t going to change his lifestyle just for them. He was happy the way things were. He glared out the window and drank his coffee. “Whatever.”

Eventually, they arrived. Archer turned up the driveway to the ranch, the truck bumping over the icy grooves in the gravel. The fields were stark white in the early morning light, the snow from earlier in the week still mostly undisturbed. It was pretty—right up until it became a disgusting, slushy mess near the barn. Alice had the right idea with muck boots.

Archer parked the truck next to Izzy’s little-used Jeep. “Thanks for the ride,” Izzy mumbled, hopping out. “Be down in a few.” He slipped between the big rolling doors at the end of the aisle and jogged through the semi-darkness until he reached the stairs to his hayloft apartment. A couple of the horses nickered at him sleepily, but they would have to wait a few more minutes for breakfast.

The loft hadn’t always been his. When he first arrived at Split Rock, six years ago, Ryan, the ranch manager, had lived there. Once he’d married Micah, the two of them had moved up to the farmhouse, and Maggie, who owned the place, moved in to the single-level cottage out back. At the time, Izzy had been renting a room from a guy in town, and he was happy to give it up inexchange for his own space and a shorter commute. Well—it was shorter when he slept in his own bed.

The barn cats, Pumpkin and Peppermint, were waiting at the top of the stairs when he returned, dressed in his winter work gear. They attempted to murder him on the way down, weaving between his boots. Fuzzy little assholes. Long practice and good balance were the only reason they didn’t succeed. “You know,” he told them, “I’m not the only one who can feed you.” Peppermint jumped up on the stack of hay bales next to the feed room door and yowled at him by way of a reply. Fine. He was just gonna pretend it was because he was their favorite—and not because he was here first.

The barn was awake now, horses calling out as Alice made her way along the aisle with the giant wheelbarrow of grain. Izzy breathed in the warm, hay-and-horse-scented air, letting the familiarity soothe the lingering twist of anxiety—and his lingering hangover. Archer would be outside still, breaking up any ice that had formed on the water troughs overnight, and checking to make sure everything was in place for turnout later. He liked to get the cold stuff done before coming in to warm up. Alice would feed these guys, then head to the smaller barn to check on her crew of broodmares.

Izzy paused to greet a few of his favorites. Sadie leaned into the forehead scratches for a moment before returning to her breakfast. Izzy grabbed his gloves and got to work on the hay, slicing open twine on a bale and tossing flakes up over the doors of the nearby stalls. He fell into an easy rhythm. The coffee was doing its job, and he felt a little more human. He should drink some water too at some point. Otherwise, Micah would bitch at him.

Coffee was mostly water. Izzy didn’t see the problem.

The barn doors slid open again, letting in another rush of cold air and three more bodies. Speak of the devil. He took in the lazy,well-fucked grin on Micah’s face and Ryan’s amused expression. “Morning, Iz. Morning, Allie,” Micah called as he and Ryan kicked their boots against the wall, knocking the snow free, while Ryan’s dog Milo bounded over to crash into Izzy in an exuberant, tail-wagging greeting. He stayed long enough for Izzy to pat his snow-dusted side before he ran past Ryan into the office. “We missed you at midnight,” Micah said. He paused to give Lex, his paint gelding, a treat and a kiss on the nose, then made his way over to fling his arms around Izzy’s neck and hug him, his grip tight, even through their thick coats.

“Yeah, well, invite more appealing cock next time, and maybe I’ll stick around,” Izzy teased, hugging back and lifting Micah off his feet in the process. It was nice having a friend who was just as tactile as Izzy was.

Micah smacked him on the shoulder until Izzy put him down, then pulled away. “Or you could take a night off, tomcat.”

Izzy snorted. “If I did that, you’d call a doctor.” He gave Micah a shove, making him stumble and laugh.

“And it would be warranted.”

They got to work cleaning stalls as the world brightened and the air warmed. It wasn’t going to get above freezing, but the low thirties felt balmy after a morning in the single digits.

A few hours later, Nick—Micah and Ryan’s boyfriend—arrived bearing pastries and more coffee. He had the day off—lucky bastard. City hall, where he worked as the town manager, was closed for the holiday. Micah rewarded him for the treats with a kiss that got a little too hot and heavy for ten a.m. Show-offs.

Izzy wolf-whistled, just to see Micah blush—something that was getting harder to accomplish. Then he took a large bite of his raspberry Danish and couldn’t hold back a groan. “Fuck me, that’s good,” he said to no one in particular. “Does settling downmean getting these delivered every morning? ’Cause I might consider it.”

Nick’s cough sounded like “Bullshit.”

Izzy smirked in reply. Valid. Everyone knew he’d never go that route.

Dr. Keegan Reid hatedpeople.

All right. That wasn’t fair. He didn’thatepeople; he just wasn’t generally impressed by them. He had friends he willingly spent time with. Ryan, for example, who’d been his best friend since they met in boarding school when they were fourteen. They didn’t spend as much time together as they used to due to their busy schedules—Keegan with his practice, and Ryan with the ranch and his two partners—but they managed to meet up at least a few times a month at Hunter’s. Hunter, owner of the Lookout, probably counted as the third in their friendship. When they went out, it was usually Keegan, Ryan, and Hunter, even if Hunter was on the other side of the bar. Chris, a transplant who owned an apartment building in town, was a more recent addition to their circle, but Keegan supposed he counted. He enjoyed Chris’s unflappable demeanor. Even Nick, Ryan’s boyfriend, was growing on him. See? Friends. Plural.

But “friends” and “people” weren’t the same, and he’d learned over the years that people never lived up to his expectations. And, despite what Ryan claimed, those expectations were low.

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