“Isn’t breaking and entering a parole violation?” Callan said with a grunt as he took a long draw from the bottle.

Rhys ignored the jab and leaned against the doorframe. “Finn’s worried about you.”

“He’ll get over it. Like you keep telling me, he’s a big boy.” Callan started to take another drink, but Rhys reached him before the bottle touched his lips. He snatched the bottle and carried it into the bathroom. Nearly half of it was already down the drain by the time Callan grabbed him and shoved him against the sink. “Fuck off, Rhys,” he said with a snarl as he tried to take the bottle back.

Rhys dropped the bottle into the sink and brought his arm down on Callan’s to loosen his hold, then twisted it behind him and shoved him away. “So this is how’s it’s going to be, huh, Callan? You’d rather drown your lies in booze instead of live your life?”

“Go to hell,” Callan responded, his voice dropping off.

“I get it,” Rhys said as he emptied the rest of the bottle and dropped it into the trash bin next to the sink. “Believe me, I fucking get it.” He leaned back against the sink. “I know why your father wandered off today.”

He saw Callan stiffen, but the stubborn man remained mute.

“He kept telling me he had to go meet you at the bus stop because he was going to take you fishing after you got done with school. Said it was your favorite thing.”

Callan leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, the fight going out of him. “What else did he say?”

Rhys chuckled slightly. “Well, he was kind of all over the place but there was mention of no one sitting a horse better than you, straight A’s on your report card all through high school and how you and he were gonna run the ranch side by side when you grew up.” Rhys closed the distance between himself and the other man and clasped his hand over Callan’s cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You lost him before you got a chance to see if he would accept you for who you really are, didn’t you? And now you’re stuck being the son he remembers instead of the son you would have been.”

Callan’s hand reached up and closed around Rhys’ wrist. “He wouldn’t have accepted me,” he said softly. “I had so many chances to tell him when I was younger and I didn’t and then it was too late. I was a fucking coward.”

“You don’t owe him your future, Callan.”

“So I should just walk away from him? Away from the man who gave me life, who protected me? Am I supposed to leave him when he needs me most?” Callan pulled Rhys’ hand away from his cheek. “Or am I supposed to ask Finn – or any other man for that matter – to stay in a place where we could never really be together?” Callan straightened and tried to move past Rhys to leave the bathroom.

“Things can change if you fight! This town can change! Fight for what you want, damn it!” Rhys said as he slammed Callan back against the wall.

“At what cost, Rhys? You’ve been here a week. You saw one cut fence and one hurt calf. Tell me again how I should fight when half your herd is lying dead or dying around you. When you have to wonder if that sip of water you just took from the well will kill you like it did them. When you’re always looking over your shoulder for the next attack and knowing that no one will be there to help you when it comes.”

Callan got right up in Rhys’ face. “You tell me how to fight when you watch the man you love die a little more each day because he’s surrounded by people who hate him because he doesn’t want to play by their rules. You tell me how to fight when you’re lying awake night after night praying that he’s not the one those cowards go after next instead of just your fences or your cattle or your checkbook!”

“Cal?”

Rhys heard Callan’s sharp intake of breath as the quiet, confused voice broke through. They both turned at the same time to see Finn standing just outside the bathroom door and Rhys knew by the horror and shock on his face that the young man had heard Callan’s declaration of love.

ChapterEleven

Callan’s entire world imploded at the sound of Finn’s broken voice and he leaned back against the wall for support.

“Finn,” he heard Rhys say as he left the bathroom and reached for the younger man.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you fucking touch me!” Finn shouted as he wrapped his arms around himself. He stepped around Rhys and stopped in the doorway of the bathroom.

“How long, Callan?” Callan raised his eyes to Finn’s and saw the fury burning there, as well as the devastation.

Callan again, not Cal.

“How long?” Finn yelled.

“What Finn?” Callan finally said tiredly. “How long have I known I was gay or how long have I been in love with you?”

Finn stepped back as if he’d been physically punched.

“Finn,” Rhys tried again, but Finn whirled on him. “You knew?” Rhys nodded.

“I asked him not to tell you,” Callan said.

“Shut the fuck up, Callan!” he screamed, then turned his attention back to Rhys. “Last night?” he asked, his voice dropping to a near whisper as agony tore through him. “Is that why you didn’t want to fuck me last night?”