“Not having family ain’t always a bad thing,” Max said, shocking himself with that slip of personal opinion. He tried not to let anyone ever see anything more than his laid-back persona and the hard work he did. Still, it was already done. “You’re bringing him here, ain’t you?”
Chance was silent for a solid minute during which Max tried not to beg. “He’s being released in a couple of days, and he’s going to need some friends, and some help, too. Rory and I already went to his place and packed up as much as we could fit in Bo’s SUV and our truck. Is it okay with you if we bring him home?”
Max nearly rolled his eyes. “Chance, you’re the boss, you can bring home whoever you want to.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to be an ass, though. I just wanted to check, I thought you and Bo got along fine, but…”
But WHAT? Max wanted to shout it. He wished Chance would just say whatever it was he wanted to say and be done with it already so Max could shower and collapse into bed. His body ached like a bitch and he’d been through the emotional wringer twice today, at least.
“But what?” He finally asked when Chance didn’t seem inclined to continue.
“I guess…” Chance sighed, the sound whooshing into Max’s ear with the force of a small tornado. “You seem all right with me and Rory. I guess I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have a problem sharing the bunkhouse with a gay man if Bo decides to stay once he’s healed. We’re going to try to talk him into it, if you and Annabelle are okay with that.”
Oh God! Max’s dick hardened so fast he felt light-headed. Having Bo here would be hell, but not for any reason other than the fact Max felt things for the man he just hadn’t felt for anyone.
“Max?” Chance’s voice sounded a little louder, a little harder. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, you know I ain’t one of those bigots,” Max snapped, then cringed when he
realised what he’d done, but damn it, Chance should know him better. “And I ain’t one of MILES TO GO
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those dumbasses who thinks every gay man is out to take my ass, either, so you can quit painting me with that homophobic brush!” Fuck, he was going to get fired if he didn’t get his mouth under control!
“You’re right,” Chance surprised him by saying. “You’ve never done or said anything to make me think you’re like that, and I apologise.”
Max liked the fact Chance didn’t make any excuses, no ‘I apologise, it’s just been a shit day and the stress got to me, blah blah blah’. A straight-out apology had always meant more to Max than one followed by excuses.
“Apology accepted, and I’m sorry for snapping and talking to you—”
Chance cut him off with a sharp, “Don’t even.” Max heard Chance exhale and waited, felling sure there was more to be said. There was, but not on the subject of Max mouthing off.
“Can you and Annabelle handle things there if Rory and I stay in San Antonio? We’d like for Bo to have someone here at least.”
Max wanted to be there himself, but he couldn’t say that without Chance asking him questions he didn’t really want to answer. “Yeah, we got everything under control.” He told Chance about the tree and repairing the fence and assured him once again everything was fine before they finally ended the call. Afterwards, Max sat on the side of the bathtub and rubbed his temples. He was so confused. These feelings for Bo were just so alien to him. If he were normal like everyone else, he wouldn’t be experiencing what he suspected was his first crush at the ripe old age of forty-three.
For all of his adult life, he’d kept people away, afraid to let anyone to close lest they find out what a mess he was. And he had feared for years he’d turn out like his parents and siblings. Even though he hadn’t so far, and he didn’t truly believe he ever would, sometimes the doubts would creep in, especially when he got angry.
Max groaned and rubbed his temples so hard he got light-headed. He wished he could scrub all those memories away. What he wouldn’t give to be able to go back in time—
“Idiot.” Stupid to even think like that. He’d learned a long time ago that imagining a happy childhood only made the reality of his abusive one hurt worse. A sound in the hall alerted him just before there was another knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” he called out as he stood up. “Almost done.” Annabelle grumbled something he couldn’t quite hear clearly as he walked over to the sink. He turned the water on and cupped his hands under it. A couple of splashes and he finally dared to look in the MILES TO GO
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mirror. Other than dripping wet, he looked the same as always. Max tried smiling, relieved when it didn’t appear strained. As long as he could keep that smile in place, Annabelle shouldn’t be able to tell his insides were churning almost as much as his mind was.
As Max laid in bed staring at the ceiling an hour later, he tried to imagine what it was going to be like having Bo around, possibly even right here in the bunkhouse. His dick had been hard since firming up in the bathroom earlier, and Max was beginning to ache with the need to come. It infuriated him that he still felt too inhibited to masturbate most of the time.
Twenty-six years he’d been gone from his parents’ house, and his head was still fucked
