Page 30 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
“I hear you, I promise. If you’ll excuse me?” Hugo nodded politely at Mom, then left the room. A few seconds later, the front screen door slammed shut.
“The boy’s got a stubborn streak, I’ll give him that,” Dad said once it was just the three of them.
“He wants to work,” Brand replied. “But I’ll keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t overdo it and hurt himself worse.”
“Good man. Sometimes people with something to prove can’t see their own limitations.”
Brand held Dad’s gaze a beat, unsure if they were talking about Hugo or about Brand, then looked away. “Thanks for checking his hands, Mom. I’ve gotta get back to it.”
“Never a bother,” Mom said with a tender smile. “See you at supper.”
Normally, Brand would spend part of his day in the office, going over numbers or brainstorming new ways to bring money into the ranch. Today, he spent his afternoon out in the pastures with the herds, observing their grazing habits, especially with the organic steer. Their grass was getting a bit low in the current pasture, so they’d have to gather and move them soon to fresher land.
At quitting time, Jackson and Dog headed out pretty quick, and Brand didn’t blame him. He’d been pulling a bit of overtime and was probably glad to get gone for a while. Brand found Hugo in the break room, sitting in a chair and staring at his hands. The bandages were bloody again, and Brand swore when he saw the heartbroken look on Hugo’s face.
“Damn it, what did you do?” Brand asked as he approached. He grabbed the first aid box on top of the refrigerator.
Hugo looked up with big, unhappy eyes. “I worked. Did my job. Still hurts, though.”
“Your hands? No shit. Jesus, man.”
“Not my hands.” Something else was haunting Hugo, and Brand didn’t know how to ask about it. “Should’ve stayed in California.”
That hurt like a punch to the kidney. “Why? You aren’t happy with the work?”
“It’s not that.” Hugo flinched when Brand began unwrapping his left hand, which seemed bloodier than the right. “I came back to fix some things that I guess won’t ever get fixed.”
He went out on a limb. “Things with your folks?”
“My mom.” Hugo grunted. “Frank’s never been a father to me. I don’t give a shit what he thinks. I guess the little boy inside hoped that just once my mother would believe me. Be on my side for a change.”
Brand dabbed a peroxide-soaked cotton ball over Hugo’s scraped-raw palm. “Believe you about what?”
“Bad stuff.” His wounded expression hardened. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my shit to deal with, and I don’t mean to bring it to work.”
Those sparse sentences told Brand more about Hugo’s past than he’d ever known before. The jumpy teenager he’d once been made a lot more sense if there was something bad going on that Hugo’s own mother wouldn’t acknowledge. And it piqued Brand’s curiosity—as well as his protective instincts. No one got to hurt Hugo and get away with it.
“I’ll listen if you ever need to talk, Hugo.” He placed a non-stick pad over Hugo’s palm, then began wrapping it with gauze. “About anything.”
“Not today. Please?
“Okay. Backing off.”
“Thank you. I just...can you be my friend? I could really use another one.”
“Definitely.” He taped the gauze down. “I’m your friend, but I’m also your boss, and I’m ordering you to take tomorrow off. Your hands need the rest.”
Hugo grunted. “Fine. I need to call Elmer for a ride.”
“Let me fix up your other hand and then I’ll drive you home.” Hugo opened his mouth. “No arguments.”
He shut his mouth and nodded. Brand unwrapped his other hand, tossed the dirty bandages into the trash, and began to fix him up. They didn’t speak. The simple brushes of skin on skin seemed to be enough to communicate something neither man could say. Brand was helping; Hugo was accepting the help. For as much as Brand wanted to dig answers out of Hugo’s head, he wouldn’t risk alienating his friend at this delicate time.
They cleaned up the break room. Brand texted his father that he’d be home late for supper, then headed for his truck. Hugo stayed a few steps behind, seemingly unwilling to go with Brand, but he’d agreed. Until the scooter was fixed, Hugo would need rides, and Brand was not above helping out an employee. Or a friend.
No one spoke on the short drive to Elmer’s place. There didn’t seem to be a need to. Brand wanted to fix this for Hugo, but unless Hugo told him exactly what was going on, all Brand could do was be attentive. Supportive. For as much as Brand tried to tell himself he didn’t feel something for Hugo, his whole body wanted to just lean over and hug him until he smiled again.
Hugo had a great smile.
