Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
One by one, I hear the soft snores of our staff, but my eyes stay open, looking at the stars. They’re more brilliant out here than in the city limits. Likely because of the light pollution. The air is purer out here too, crisper in the winter months. And I enjoy it all, no matter the season.
Wherever you are, Porter, I say to the breeze, I hope you find what you’re looking for.
Chapter 2
Porter
I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing back in Laurel Springs. I swore to myself I would never see this town again. I thought I meant it, but I’ve also always been itchy. Like my skin feels too tight if I stay in one place too long, and there are only so many ranches to choose from, so I figure I’ll let my wandering soul take a journey back to where I came from.
It doesn’t help that I got fired from the last place after I got caught fucking the ranch owner’s son, Travis. He wasn’t out, and his daddy didn’t take too kindly to having a queer son. Travis is older than me, thirty-two, but he still lets his dad run his life. He laid all the blame on me, as if he wasn’t the one who’d approached me in a bar bathroom one night, as if he hadn’t been the one to ask to get on his knees for me. So I was kicked out, and Travis is gonna go on pretending, something I swore I would never do.
I don’t hide my sexuality for anyone—haven’t since I left Laurel Springs. I’m as gay as they come, and if someone don’t like it, well, they can kiss my ass.
But I also can’t pretend I’m not a little impulsive…the thing with Travis is all too familiar, only with him, it really wasn’t more than just sex.
I pull my old Ford up in front of the only hotel in Laurel Springs, where I go inside and get a room for the night. It smells like pinecones, likely from the bowl of them on the table. The hotel is aged, just like everything else in Laurel Springs. It needed an update when I lived here eleven years ago—and that flowery wallpaper that doesn’t match on one wall is still here.
I collapse onto the bed, which is firm, just how I like it. I’ve spent too many nights sleeping in the dirt to like any kind of soft mattress.
A heaviness had settled in my gut the second I pulled back into Laurel Springs, a tingle in my feet that wants me to head back to my truck and drive the fuck outta here. I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me in this place—my momma, my dad, and a family legacy. And here I am, planning on going to the same exact ranch and asking about a job.
What am I gonna find when I get there? I heard that Bishop married Aimee not long after I left. They probably got a couple of kids running around now, the next generation to manage the ranch.
Anger burns through my chest at the thought, setting everything in its path on fire.
I don’t care about him. I don’t. I’ve got something to prove to him, though. Too bad I don’t know what it is. That I’m one of the best at breaking horses in the whole damn country? That I don’t give a shit about him or what his family took from mine? Only one of those things is true, but I sure plan to make Sully think both of them are—Bishop, I try to remind myself. Sully is the man I used to laugh with and taste the sweat off his skin. I need to remind myself there’s a difference.
Sully, I cared about. Bishop, I want to prove something to. The ranch has been struggling to keep good people, that much is obvious. This ain’t the first time I’ve seen them looking for hands. I’ll head to the ranch, show them what I can do, then be on my way again. I don’t belong in one place too long. That just ain’t me.
I open my case, pull out my guitar, and start to play. Other than ranching, it’s the only thing that brings me any peace.
The first thing I notice is how it looks the same as I pull up to the open ranch gate—a black, metal, intricate design of the Colorado countryside. Along the top, in a curved scroll, it reads: SULLIVAN RANCH, with a stone pillar on each side of the gate.
The rock in my gut feels like it weighs a ton now, the back of my neck prickling like it used to do when I could feel Sully watching me. It used to make my dick hard, make me want to smile even though I hate smiling, but now it’s all discomfort and anger. Seeing him with Aimee, so soon after we fucked and I found my momma dead… It’s all I can see when I think about him.