Worth Dying For: Worth It: Book 8

by Styles, Peter

  Whatever it was, I felt the hooks of it in my chest, my belly, and they weren’t painful.

  Nodding my head, I slowly let myself be drawn into Oliver, his arms wrapped around me as I buried my face in his shoulder. It smelled like yesterday’s work and whatever was so distinctly Oliver—bitter like coffee and musky, too. If his hand was just calming, his hold was like being wrapped up in a protective presence.

  “Whatever happens, it’ll be all right,” he said eventually. “I’m sure of it.”

  Knowing my mama was in the other room, not knowing if she was really okay or what might happen to her, it was impossible to settle. What would I do, if she didn’t make it? I thought of her and the farm and the money and—

  I wrapped my arms around Oliver’s middle, wanting so badly to believe him.

  11

  Oliver

  With Tilly in the hospital, I began to see less and less of Quinn.

  I wasn’t about to go complaining about it, though; he needed to stay by her side, of course, and I understood that. I knew from experience that you never know when the last time you see someone might be. Besides, there was plenty of work at the ranch to keep me occupied.

  Most of my days were spent with James, like before, fixing up the combine or a tractor, or whatever other piece of machinery that needed fixing. It was easy to lose myself in the work, but James was always happy to talk when the sun was high and the work was long and tedious; I think he was glad for the company. Of course, that meant I had to talk back, so it was only a matter of time before it was my turn to think of a topic.

  Unfortunately, all that was really on my mind was Quinn.

  It only took me mentioning it had felt like a long time since I’d seen him, trying too hard to be nonchalant, for James to get a questioning kind of look on his face. Wiping the grease from his hands, he looked like he was considering even asking before the question came: “Say, Oliver?”

  I kept my eyes on the toolbox, rifling through bolts. “Yeah?”

  “You and Quinn… are you two involved? Seems to have been on your mind an awful lot lately.”

  I was feeling prickly. Thinking about Quinn too much had me a bit on edge—but even if he had been right at my side, I would have still felt that same gnawing kind of panic at being asked. Are you in a relationship with a man? It was a question I made sure to keep away all my life, ever since the first time I was smacked for liking a boy.

  Brows pinching, I went back to the tools. “I figure that’s private, don’t you?”

  Not really confirming, but not really denying either.

  James laughed a little, shaking his head as he turned to the tractor’s engine. “I’ll take that as a yes.” My head snapped up to look at him, and I felt—well, bashful. Embarrassed. But he seemed easygoing, like it didn’t bother him. “And you’re right. It ain’t none of my business. I just….”

  I watched him pause and fix me with a concerned look.

  “I’ve known Quinn just about all his life. He’s always had a thing for the hands that come through the Dyer Ranch.” He gave a shrug. “Nothin’ wrong with that, of course, it’s always been harmless fun, but… that was when he was just Tilly’s son. Not when he was running the whole place. He’s got a lot on his plate.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was telling me to back off, or trying to warn me. I stayed silent, so he kept talking.

  “I don’t know. I guess my advice—my unsolicited advice,” he laughed a little, “would be to be careful in getting too wrapped up by him. He’s a good kid, always had a good heart, huge mama’s boy”— we both laughed, the tension on my part melting a little, —“but I’m sure he’s got a lot of mixed feelings about running the ranch. He’s just got a habit of having his fun and, you know, moving on along. Not that I’m saying he ain’t got a lot to give, mind you. Boy’s got a good heart.”

  I nodded slowly, the panic at being asked about our relationship fading instead into a different kind of worry; Quinn apparently had a history—but then again, who didn’t? I sure as hell did.

  “Thanks,” I told James, tossing him the wrench. “I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Of course.” He caught it easily, happy to let the conversation go on to other things. “As long as you know what you’re gettin’ yourself into, I figure I’ve done my bit.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I laughed, joining him at the engine. “I won’t hold you responsible if I get left in the dust by this kid.”

  Each day at Dyers’ was a day of long and hard work, and that day was no exception. It was nearing dinner time, and James had decided to call it for the evening; we’d gotten a lot done, more than we were scheduled to, so it was with ease we parted ways. He was looking to take a long shower, and I was starved, having worked through lunch.

  When I got to the homestead, it was just about empty, too soon for the others to be coming around for dinner, but it was more than that. Tilly’s presence wasn’t felt upstairs, and Quinn wasn’t there—not at the sink doing dishes, or prepping a big meal, or sifting through piles of paperwork full of numbers I didn’t bother to try understanding.

  I made a sandwich and ate in the cool air on the front porch, watching a set of headlights drive between the hayfields, until it was slowing and pulling into the driveway; it was a car I recognized.

  I gave a wave as Nico hopped out of the front seat, hands in his pockets as he nodded. “Que pasa, tío?”

  “Nada, nada.” I waved with one hand as he leaned against the railing.

  “Quinn around?”

  “No.” I set my food aside. “He’s still up at the hospital with his mom.”

  “Dios mio.” Nico clicked his tongue, disappointed.

  “You could’ve called to see if he was here.”

  Pouting a little, Nico shrugged. “I didn’t think of it.”

  I laughed a bit at his expense, the great tío that I was. I looked at my nephew and remembered his and Quinn’s relationship, their long-standing friendship; if anyone knew what Quinn’s mind was really like, maybe it was Nico.

  “Oye, Nico.”

  “Si?”

  “You, uh….” I paused, frowning a little. “I was wondering about Quinn—does he have a, you know, a history with a lot of guys?”

  Nico made a face, grimacing a little, before looking away. “Oh, boy, uh….”

  Anxiety like a little twitch formed in my stomach. Not a good sign.

  “Quinn’s… he’s a great friend—one of my best friends, and he’d never have a bad word to say about anyone, y’know, and he doesn’t….” Nico paused as if thinking about his words real carefully. “He feels things really deeply.”

  I gave an amused huff. “That doesn’t really answer the question.”

  “Yeah.” Nico shook his head. Was it worse than James had made it seem? “I guess Quinn’s got… a bit of a trail behind him. Especially for a place like Worthington.”

  “Right.” I nodded slowly, not sure what to do with the information.

  “But don’t forget you’re new to all this, too, tío.” Nico sat himself on top of the railing. “If you’ve got feelings for Quinn—well, he’d make a great boyfriend, no doubt about that, but do you think you’re ready? I mean for a full-blown relationship with a man.”

  I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know if I’d ever have a straight answer, let alone the right answer. It was a question I’d asked myself too much, with all the space and time to think throughout the work day.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  Nico nodded slowly. I felt like our roles were reversed; like I was the nephew in need of guidance, and he was the sage uncle.

  “Then, just let it be what it’s gonna be,” Nico said, punctuating with a teasing, “tío Ollie, yeah?”

  We both laughed, and I shook my head, looking off into the nighttime fields.

  “C’mon,” Nico signed, hopping off the railing and heading for the house. “I came to talk to Quinn, but also so he could feed me. You’re
gonna have to do it in his place.”

  As Nico grabbed at me, and I followed behind, I supposed I’d have to be content with letting it be what it would be. But there was still a wondering feeling: especially at a time like this, with so much going on in his life, would it be like James seemed to suggest? Like Nico had confirmed by confirming his history? It felt like they were both trying to prepare me for something.

  Would Quinn get tired of me?

  12

  Quinn

  “It’s called a failing valve.”

  I held my mama’s hand as the doctor spoke, trying to put it all in layman’s terms, gesturing to a diagram of the heart he had on his clipboard. I felt hyper-aware of everything, but like I was in a bubble listening to him. None of it felt totally real.

  “It’s part of the heart. It’s going to require surgery to fix.” The doc looked at us apologetically. It wasn’t what we wanted to hear. I reckon it wasn’t what anyone ever wanted to hear. I held my mom’s hand a little tighter.

  “Okay.” My voice was quiet.

  “Medication could help,” the doctor continued. “To a point. But for the optimal long-term outcome, surgery is the best option. It’s what I highly recommend.”

  “What does that entail?” Tilly asked through short breaths.

  “Replacing the valve itself. Surgery always comes with a risk, but this isn’t an anomaly. As far as, well, heart surgery goes, it’s a standard procedure and has a high success rate.”

  “We, um….” I looked from my mama to the doctor, stomach twisting. “She doesn’t have insurance, and we don’t….” I nodded a little, and the doc seemed to catch my drift. There weren’t exactly a lot of liquid assets to speak of.

  The doctor nodded. “I’ll let you two talk about it, then.”

  I thanked him on his way out, but once he was gone, tension took his place. I could tell mama already knew what I was thinking. I said it anyway.

  “Mama—”

  “Quinn—” she started, but I was louder, had more energy than she did to deny.

  “Let me sell it—it wouldn’t be all of the land, just the parts we aren’t using for anything, they’re just sitting there.”

  “One acre become two acres becomes ten acres, Quinn.” She took her hand from mine and crossed her arms. “It’s a slippery slope, I’ll have you know. Before you know it, it’ll all be sold off, and then what? It’s everythin’ my grandparents and yer grandparents and me ever passed down, and it’ll be gone like—” She snapped her fingers.

  “But, mama—”

  “No buts, Quinn.” She was firm, but tender. That was always the kind of mother she was, I guess. “Once it’s gone, that kinda land… you can’t ever get it back.”

  I didn’t know what to feel, all of these loud emotions fighting for center stage, but mostly it was frustration I was feeling. It could be a simple fix. I looked off at the wall, but her finger on my cheek brought me back, and this time she was looking at me almost like she was sorry, which was insane because Tilly Dyer did not apologize to nobody for nothing.

  “I’ll take the medication,” she said. “We’ll go back, and work on turning the ranch around. Together.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, to tell her she wasn’t being—I don’t know—pragmatic, but I couldn’t. She wouldn’t have it.

  It was her final word on the matter.

  I left not long after, getting angrier and angrier as I watched her sign the papers for the medicine, rather than for surgery. She’d be discharged in a few days, the doctor told me, so it’d be best to go on home and get her place ready for her to return to.

  I guess I must’ve been paying less attention to my surroundings than I thought, because I ran just about full-body into someone, not realizing who until he was steering me out of the way of the automatic doors, laughing at our collision.

  “Oye, santa mierda, Quinn, where’s the fire?”

  “Jesus, Nico,” I sighed, smiling a little as I nudged him off me. “Watch where you’re going, why don’t you?”

  “I wasn’t the one looking at my feet.” Nico leaned against the wall of the hospital, holding up a little bouquet. “You almost crushed my flowers.”

  “Those for Tilly?”

  “Si, si. Where you running off to? I came by to see you, too.”

  “I was about to go back. They’re letting mama out of the hospital tomorrow, so—”

  “I was just there. Figures.” We laughed a little before he asked, “How’s old Mama Dyer holding up anyway? Guess it’s a good thing, if they’re letting her out.”

  “No.” I scratched the back of my head, looking out to the parking lot. “No, not exactly. She’s got a failing heart valve.”

  The color drained from his face. “Mierda, I’m sorry—”

  I shook my head. “Yeah. It… it could be fixed with surgery, but it’s hard cash and she doesn’t want to do it, so the best we’ve got right now is some medicine, but… we’ll see.”

  Nico swallowed. “Right. Well, I’m here for you. Landon, too. Plus everybody at the ranch.”

  I knew he was right. Still, it was nice to hear it out loud. I blew out a long breath. “Thanks.”

  “Speaking of people at the ranch….” He nudged me, smiling all toothy.

  I groaned. “What’s that look on your face for?”

  “Que pasa with you and my poor tío, huh?”

  Laughing just a little, I gave a shrug. “I don’t know. He’s nice.”

  “Yeah, yeah, he is.”

  There was an unexpected heaviness to his voice. I looked at him a little sideways. “Why? What’s up?”

  “Nothing, it’s just….” Nico bit at his lip. “It’s not like my tío isn’t a grown-ass man, but… don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not leading him on, are you?”

  I frowned, thinking of Oliver and the fun we’d been having together. What the hell was that supposed to mean? I wasn’t leading anyone on; it was just good fun, right?

  Or had Oliver said something to Nico?

  Nico could probably see the offense on my face, in my frown. “Quinn—”

  “Look, I’ve got so much shit to worry about right now.” Speaking over him did the trick. I pushed off the wall, taking one step backwards towards the truck. “He’s just a good distraction, but the rest of it….”

  Was there even a rest of it?

  I shook my head. “I can’t really… evaluate all that right now.”

  What was there to evaluate? Was it lust or love or—

  I felt my heart thud a little harder at the notion. I tested the thought out in my head; did I love Oliver? I guess it could be love just as much as it could be anything else, but right now, well, that was all just too much. It was too early to tell anything.

  “Just be honest with him, Quinn.” Nico gave a shrug. “He’s not like you or me, you know. He’s been alone. For a long time.”

  “...I know.”

  “And last time he was with a guy, well… things weren’t exactly todo bien, if you know what I mean.” It wasn’t our usual gossip or chitchat. I could tell Nico was worried, genuinely, for his uncle, and it made me wonder. “It was bad. He’s got a history beyond all this jail time mierda. Scars.”

  We looked at one another a long time, before Nico clicked his tongue and kicked off the wall. “I’ll see you later, okay? Gonna go give these to your mom.”

  “Yeah,” I finally said, waving a little weakly at him, thinking it was all too much as we parted ways and I crawled into my truck with my tail tucked between my legs.

  I sat there a long time, just thinking. Thinking about if I was selfish for this thing I had with Oliver. Thinking if it was selfish of me to not be laying out terms clear for the both of us. Any other time in my life, that would have been top priority. Hell, it probably would have been settled already. But this wasn’t any other time.

  Maybe I loved him. Maybe it was all just fun and distraction. I didn’t know.

  And I couldn’t th
ink about it until everything else in this big mess had been settled.

  13

  Oliver

  It was just me and Eddie, one of the ranch hands who usually worked down in the south fields, making lunch when Quinn finally came around again.

  There wasn’t much talk between the Eddie and me, nothing deep at all, but it was pleasant. We liked each other enough, and Eddie seemed like a quiet guy just like me. Neither of us felt bad about saying nothing and making sandwiches together. I heard the front door open before he did, but didn’t think much of it. I didn’t even bother looking up until I heard Quinn’s voice, like a ghost in the doorway.

  “Hey, Eddie, you mind stepping out for a sec?”

  We both looked at Quinn. He looked tired and kind of overwhelmed. I’m sure being held up in the hospital with so much on his mind probably was taking its toll.

  “I just want to talk to him quickly about something private.”

  Eddie looked between the two of us before setting his butter knife down, wiping his hands on his pants. When he and I locked eyes, he smiled a little like he maybe knew… something.

  It hadn’t occurred to me before, but maybe word about the two of us was getting around the ranch. Had anyone said anything, or seen something?

  “Sure thing, boss,” Eddie said, moseying on out the backdoor.

  The tension held as Quinn and I stared at one another a long time, waiting for Eddie’s footsteps to be gone, and once they were, the tension broke, like it was too much for Quinn to suddenly take. Crossing the kitchen, his body molded against mine, and I realized as it pressed against my thigh that he was half-hard in his jeans.