Page 2 of Hanging Horseshoes

His words ring in my head as I take a sip of beer, then another, and another. I don't want to look too deep into his words. If I do, I'll drive myself crazy with all the questions. Does it mean he knows? Does the whole club know? Fuck. I just want to shut out all the fucking demons telling me I’m wrong. I’m disgusting. I’m worthless and broken.

Broken.

I've always been called broken, but no one has ever said why or what I need to fix. That's the part that hurts the most, but what gives me hope… broken things can be fixed, too, right?

I sigh, wondering what the hell to do with my life. I’m drawn to two different people, one from my past that I haven't seen in years and one I only got a glimpse of. How is that right? How is my family supposed to accept me if they knew that?

I throw back another shot before pulling out my phone and ordering an Uber. I didn't ride my bike, already knowing I would get hammered. Honestly, if I’m still debating this shit in my head, still holding onto the past pain and trauma, then maybe I’m not as drunk as I should be. Either way, I need to get back to the compound. Grease's statement is still ringing in my head, and I'm not sure alcohol can make it disappear.

“Fuck.” I whisper harshly, jamming my fingers through my hair before sighing and standing. I throw a couple of bills on the bar top before walking out to the waiting car. I stay silent the whole drive, leaning my head back against the seat and staring at the roof.

I just want to be happy. I want to feel settled. I want what my brothers have. Love… family.

Most would think, after my upbringing and the abuse I endured because of who I truly am, that I would lose my faith, but they’d be wrong. I just saw it for what it truly was. Though we believe in the same God, we don't believe in the same meaning of his word. The God I worship created me just the way I am, and he loves me for it. What God could hate someone for who they truly love? It never made sense to me, but it's my belief, and I stick with it.

So I close my eyes and send up another prayer, hoping and wishing this one is answered.

Chapter Two

Trip

“Are you completely sure about this? You still have time to change your mind. Papers won’t be signed until Monday.” Andrew, my best friend and coincidentally my realtor, begs while still helping me throw the last of my trunks into my pickup.

“Drew, don't act so surprised. You had to know this move was coming? How can I stay in a town with these people? Some of whom were my best friends until my secret got out. I can see the looks they give me, and it's hard as hell to try to find additional ranch hands when everyone is more worried that I’ll try to tame them rather than the horses, if you catch my drift.” I tell him, jumping down from the tailgate and closing it with a slam. I turn back to my best and really only friend in this godforsaken town I grew up in.

“People are just assholes, and that's gonna be the case no matter where you go. At least you have family here. You have me.” He says, and I can tell it's nearly breaking him to see me leave. I want to break down just thinking about leaving him, too. The only light in this fucking hellhole.

Andrew and I have been by each other's sides since mutton busting days. I may have more buckles from my rodeo days, but don't let Andrew’s suit fool you. He was one hell of a rider himself in his day. We both started mutton busting when we were four. I still remember the feeling of flying on the back of that sheep. A cute sight to see, too. An old injury had me out of the rodeo circuit by the time I was twenty-four, but I should have left when I was fifteen and outed as gay. Andrew still feels bad. It was his high school girlfriend who was the bitch who outed me.

See, mine and Drew's relationship is a tricky one. I’m gay as can be, and he’s as straight as an arrow. There has never been and will never be anything between us, but people don't want to believe that. In their minds, there is no way any straight man would want to hang with a gay man. Drew doesn't help, though. Drew's been known to make a scene if people give me looks while we're in town together. Like grabbing my hand, getting down on one knee, and proposing in one situation. Another situation had me nearly dying of embarrassment.

We overheard Hilda and Blair, two classmates of ours, talking and snickering at my expense in the cafe in town. About how I was desperate to convert poor Drew to the dark side with me and wouldn't let him go. How I cockblocked him every time he got a girlfriend because I was jealous and just wanted him to myself. Other, far worse, things were said, but I just ignored them. Drew, though, never could ignore bigoted and close-minded people. He promptly cleared his throat and said, “Action.”

“Trip, my ass is so sore. I swear you tore me up. When is it my turn to top?”

The entire cafe stopped moving and just stood there. I sighed, rolled my eyes, turned around, and promptly walked out of the damn cafe as Drew nearly fell out of it, laughing at the look of the townspeople. I couldn't be mad at him, and later on the drive back to his place, I couldn't keep the laughter in. That was Drew, the class clown with the biggest heart you ever saw. He knew words hurt and was always willing to take the fall for the little guy. Now, I’m not a little guy, but I’ve learned that nothing will change these fools' minds, and why should I try? It doesn’t make no difference; if they stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of theirs. The problem with small towns is people actively want to be in your business even if they fully protest the facts.

“You have stood by me my whole life. Even before it all came out. You stopped living, though, when it did. You took it upon yourself to try to take all the hate and fire off of me. I know it was you who painted Becky Taylor's number on the water tower with ‘call for a good time’ because she painted that word on my locker. Oh, and don't forget about the time you pranked the Mayor by prank-calling him as a sex worker and offering him a good time all over the school's intercom.”

“Oh, that was a good one. He actually made the appointment.” Drew sighs while looking off into the distance and smiling at the memory.

“I also know it was you who took the Jesus statue from the church and put it in front of the beauty shop.”

“Those old nosy bitties deserved the health scare for their gossiping, and you know it. Besides, it was just a mild stroke, and Mrs. Jenkins always enjoyed the ambulance rides. She told me it was because of the paramedic ‘hot ass.’ I’m pretty sure she faked the stroke.” He grumbles.

“My point is you haven't been living your life. You’ve been so worried about me and making sure no one wrongs me. You need to finally be happy. Stop making me your responsibility. I might not be as vocal as you, but I can take care of myself. I’m a big boy.” I smile at him, trying to soften the blow. I hate to hurt him, but I’ve always felt like a weight around Drew's neck.

If I wasn't here, he would probably be married with two kids and a white picket fence by now, or off in the big city selling condos, or hell, surfing in Hawaii like he always wanted. I always worried that he held back on his life because of me. He could be out there doing great things, experiencing life to the fullest, but he didn't want to leave me to fend for myself in this small town.

That was one of the major deciding factors in my move. I’m hoping Drew finds happiness, although I hate that I have to leave and won't be able to see it with my own eyes. We have always been closer than brothers. Especially after my parents died, and I took over the ranch. Drew knew my plan was to always leave this place behind. We planned to move out to Florida after graduation and share a place. I couldn't just leave the Ranch, though. Not after my parents put everything they had into this place until the day they died. I held onto this place for so long because of the guilt. I didn't want to let them down.

I’m still not sure this is the right decision, but then I think about those confusing blue eyes and feel a tug. I don't know what's pulling me back to him so fiercely, but I won't pass up this opportunity. My parents were supportive beyond belief before and after I came out. They loved me no matter what and just wanted what was best for me, so I know this is the right decision.

I never belonged in this small town, I never fit in, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt my parents would want me to find my own way and happiness.

“The land you bought in Alabama. Have you looked over the house? Is the paperwork done? Do you need me to look over it again?” He pesters.

“Damn, man, stop being a mother hen. It's bought and paid for. The paperwork is final, and you’ve already looked it over three times. As for the house, I’m planning on just staying there until I can build something. Then I will convert the house into maybe a bed-and-breakfast or something. Haven't really decided.” I tell him, shrugging and then heading around the truck. I give him a sad smile. What I really want to do more than anything is fill that house with a family.

---