“Yeah, that part I get. I said he reminded me of Kevin, didn’t I?”
“You had a part in this too,” I told him. “Telling me everyone knows I’m gay, they don’t give a fuck about it, and I need to move on. And then today…” I took a deep breath.
“I guess we’ve come to that breakthrough you mentioned.”
I nodded. I wasn’t ready to share my revelations about feeling guilty. He didn’t need to know that. “What it all boils down to is… You were right. Diana is right. Hell, even Zeeb is right. Itistime to move on.”
Teague became very still. “Fight Club, Robert.”
I wondered what the hell was about to come out of his mouth. “Gotcha.”
“You wanna know what I think? Toby brings all these feelings and emotions out in you that would have been there regardless of the circumstances. So I guess what I’m telling you is…” He drained the rest of his beer. “If anything were to… happen between you and… a guest, no one would say a word. Shit, they probably wouldn’t even bat an eyelid. And ethically speaking, I don’t see a problem in you and him—”
I held up one hand. “You don’t have to draw a diagram.”
He gave a shrug. “Just saying, if it’s permission you’re after…” He looked me in the eye. “You don’t need it. Do whatever the fuck you want. Because you know what? You’veearnedthat right. You spent five years in hell, and someone just let you out. And it’s about fuckin’ time.”
I blinked back the tears I felt sure were about to put in an appearance.
Then he grinned. “Just don’t go crazy, okay? I don’t wanna find you in the middle of the paddock one dark night, riding some guy like he was a wild stallion.”
Be still my beating heart.
“Oh my Lord, nowthere’sa vivid picture.”
Teague stared at me. “Oh my God. I just put that idea into your head, didn’t I?”
I laughed. “Trust me, I’ll steer clear of the paddock.” I smiled. “I realized something else today. Diana really was sweet on Butch way back when.” I glanced at him. “You know the story, right?” I was pretty sure Butch would’ve filled him in.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t have ended well.” He stroked his stubble-covered jaw with his index finger. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think your dad knew about Butch? I mean, did he have some sixth sense or something?”
“Are you asking if Dad didn’t want his daughter getting involved with a gay guy? I know—you don’t think he is, but…”
“Is it possible? Your dad was a pretty good judge of character.”
I thought back to those years. “I was nineteen when Dad gave Butch a job. Diana was sixteen. And right from the start, I liked him. He was a laugh, a real character.”
“Hasn’t changed much, then,” Teague remarked with a smile.
“And yet… I noticed how Dad watched the two of them. It wasn’t long after that, he brought her and Newt Webster together.”
Teague scowled. “You think he didn’t want his daughter married to a hired hand? I didn’t think your dad was that kinda guy.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No, it was more than that. Fight Club, okay?” Teague nodded. “Because I have never told a soul what I’m about to tell you.”
Teague’s expression grew solemn. “You got my word.”
“One time, I confronted him about it. I was this zealous nineteen-year-old kid, burning with the injustice of what he’d done. Because hehadsplit them up, make no mistake.” Except I’d been sure the attraction was mostly on Diana’s side.
“What did he say? When you confronted him?”
“I’ll never forget it. He said, ‘Son, you don’t invite a wild animal into your house. You keep it outside where you can see it. Where you can aim a shotgun at it if you have to.’”
Teague paled. “He said that?”