Page 64 of Cowboys Can't Kiss

Instead of hanging out, we take a ride into town and scope out the rodeo grounds quickly. We stop at a local diner and have an early dinner before heading back to the campground for an early night. On the road since 5 A.M. and up most of the night with Riley is catching up with me.

I still haven’t heard from him since his text saying he got home, and it’s hard not to let my mind wonder if another man like the one from the bar showed up again or something worse. There’s so much we still need to talk about and I want to do it all now. The timing is all crap. If we’d have done this at a different time, I’d have been home today, too, and at his place. I could be holding him while he sleeps and kissing the back of his neck in the night just because I can.

“He probably had something come up at work, Jack. He’s not ghosting you.”

We skipped the campfire tonight, and after showering, we’ve both been quiet while lounging in the camper; Hunter doing crosswords and me reading a birding magazine. Barn owls are super cool.

“Yeah, I know. You’re probably right.”

“Trust me. A guy doesn’t drive 300 kilometres to tell a guy he likes him and then disappear. He might have his phone on silent. Maybe the battery died. Don’t obsess. We have a rodeo tomorrow and then you’ll be home.”

“You’re sounding like you have some experience in all this again, Hunter. Anything you want to talk about?”

He’s silent for a long time, and I figure it’s his sign he doesn’t want to talk and I’m about to turn off my light to sleep when he surprises me.

“I might lose the ranch.” Hunter keeps his eyes down on his crossword. “When my grandfather died, he left all his assets in a complicated trust.”

Hunter lifts his gaze, and it’s the first time in years I’ve seen him look so scared and vulnerable. I knew something must be going on. Why would he be selling off all the rodeo stock unless he needed the money?

“How come you never said anything?”

“It’s nobody else’s business.” He shrugs as he scribbles down another word. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that for perspective. You still don’t know each other that well, and maybe there’s something big he’s trying to work through without dragging you into it.”

“Hunter, you’re my friend. If I can do anything —”

“You can’t. Helping me with labour when I needed it was enough. Right now it’s in a lawyer’s hands.”

When Hunter’s grandfather died two years ago, I assumed he had inherited everything since he still lived on the ranch. The man had no other heirs, and while he was an absolute homophobe, I didn’t think he’d leave his only grandson out of his will.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Hunter. But you know if you need anything, you better fucking ask me. You’re like the brother I never had. I’m here for you.”

He sucks in a breath and nods. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” He folds the crossword book away with the pencil inside. “That’s enough being up in the feels for me tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

After we both brush our teeth and turn the lights out, I reach for my phone one last time. My message to Riley still sits unread, but I send another one, anyway.

Jackson:I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk today. I’ll see you soon and hope your night was okay.

Hunter is likely right. He’s not ghosting me, but I still wish he’d pick up his phone and tell me he’s okay.

“Yep!”

The steer bolts out of the chute, and Hunter guides the animal exactly where I need it. Sliding off Lady, I grab the steer like I do every single time, and the damn thing doesn’t budge. I plant my feet harder and twist him, giving the stubborn animal an extra bump with my hip. He finally hits the dirt with a muffled moo and points his feet in the air.

I don’t even have to look to know that time is too slow for a good money showing here. It will bring money, just not the amount we wanted.

4.4 seconds. That’s way off the mark and it’s frustrating since we had such an amazing rodeo a few days ago.

“It was a stubborn steer. I told you he’d fight you.”

“You did.”

Hunter doesn’t show his disappointment, but I sure as hell hear it.

“It’s not a broken barrier, at least. We still get money for it.”

Hunter leaves with his horse as I watch the next steer wrestler out throw down a faster time than me. I know where Hunter is going. He’s packing up and we won’t stay to collect in person. He gets like this whenever we can’t have a top-three finish. It’s been over a year since we’ve had this low of a showing, but his behaviour hasn’t changed.

Stopping at the official timekeeper’s hut, I give the woman our information. They’ll send me a form asking for banking information once the results are official and will transfer our winnings then. Which is more progressive than some of these rodeos who still mail paper cheques.

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