Page 60 of My Cowboy Freedom
That was the world’s shortest, least festive, receiving line.Ever.
“My word, you and your family will certainly be in our thoughts and prayers this evening, Rockne McLean.” Cecilia smiled sweetly, even as she kept Rock at a careful distance. “We just love you to bits.”
Rock told the lady, “Thanks.”
While the pastor bobbed his head, nodding, he shook my hand.
“And don’t you worry the teensiest bit about tonight’s little mishap,” she continued. “Everything cleans up with a little bleach. We look forward to hearing you share your talent with us again next week.”
In contrast to his wife, Aiden Everett swept Rock into a full-body prayer-hug. Elena raised her hands so I put mine up once I figured out what was expected.
We were supposed to put our hands on Rock in prayer, I guessed, but he stiffened, and I could see he didn’t like it.
“Rockne Montana McLean, the Lord loves you so very much. He has given you your gifts and your trials because he knows you are mighty enough to bear them. I believe in you, Rockne. We all do. Blessed is the name of the Savior, amen.”
“Praise Him.” Cecilia lowered her hands. She was watching me and Rock awful closely.
Maybe she had some kind of heightened gaydar, because I could have sworn she narrowed her eyes when she looked between us, as if she were seeing the invisible attraction I’d felt from the beginning with Rock.
I kept my face blank. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Rock’s reply was muted and maybe it wasn’t any of my business anyway. But his cheeks glowed pink as he averted his eyes.
Oh, he was grateful, all right. And woozy and a little too interested in holding on to me, and Mrs. Church Lady was watching us like a cat watching a mouse hole.
On the inside, you learn to read people pretty fast. You can spot givers and takers and scam artists. You know who the victims are, and who has the juice.
Inside, deciding who to ride with is a matter of life and death.
Outside, I probably needed a road map or a secret decoder ring, because as far as I could tell, nothing was straightforward.
All these people said they just wanted what was best for Rock, but as far as I could tell, no one cared too much about his opinion on the matter.
Maybe I was too tired to think clearly by that time, but Rock—whose blank, pained expression as I helped him into the back of the truck–brought out all my protective instincts. He needed someone to stand by him for real.
Everyone had warned me off him.Everyone.
But I rarely did what people told me to do.
There are all kinds of prisons.
I decided then and there to help Rock out of his.
