Saddle Up

by A. M. Arthur

  Miles’s head snapped up, and he barely managed the words, “Did you?”

  “No. No, I didn’t touch him. I also didn’t help him.” Reyes’s voice fractured. “I just stood there, agreed with anything my friends said, and waited until they got bored and it was over. I was so sick, because I couldn’t stop them. I knew if I spoke up, they’d assume I was queer, too, and I’d end up over that trash can, and I was so fucking scared, Miles.”

  More tears ran down Reyes’s cheeks, and Miles didn’t know what to do. What to even say to all this? His boyfriend, his safe place, his solid rock in the storm, was an accessory to a gang rape, and Miles had no way to process that. None. And he didn’t want to process it, so he tried to focus as if this was a story that had happened to someone else.

  Not his Reyes.

  “What happened to Miguel?” Miles asked.

  Reyes made a distressed sound. “Three days later, he left a suicide note at home, naming all six of the guys who tortured him, and then he jumped from a bridge on the I-5 freeway. Killed himself.”

  Miles’s stomach curled in on itself, and he ran for the bathroom, barely able to get to the toilet before he started to retch. Nothing really came up, but he gagged as the enormity of Reyes’s secret turned his body inside out. The confession about Luke’s accidental death in a fire was nothing like this. This was...beyond words. A boy had been tormented and abused while Reyes did nothing. A boy had taken his own life for the same reason.

  A glass of water hovered near his face, and Miles used it to swish his mouth out. He accepted a washrag from Reyes, but no help standing. Miles’s entire body was shaking with adrenaline and grief. He sat on his own bed, the rag clenched in his hands, because the story wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.

  Reyes sat opposite him. “The letter and bruises weren’t enough to prosecute anyone for rape, because Miguel had showered, so there was no fingerprints or DNA evidence left on his body. Cops found evidence we’d been at the house, so a few of the guys did time for B&E, but it was nowhere near enough. His older brother Julio vowed revenge. He went after our leader, Omar, and killed him in front of witnesses for what he’d done to Miguel. Julio was sentenced to twenty years, and he just got out six months ago.”

  “He came to see you, didn’t he?” Miles asked. “He hit you.”

  “Yeah. I was the only person there that night who wasn’t arrested or named. He wanted to know why Miguel didn’t name me in his note. I told him I didn’t know, because I don’t. Miguel had no good reason to protect me from the consequences of my actions.”

  “You deserved the same public accusations as the others.”

  Reyes flinched. “Yeah. After Miguel, I got out. I was done. Didn’t want to ruin any more lives. And when I wasn’t publicly associated with the assault, the gang turned on me, anyway. The beating I got for leaving nearly killed me, but I was out. I couldn’t change what happened to Miguel and Julio, but I became a better person. A lifesaver, not a life ruiner.”

  “You said it yourself, though.” Miles’s chest felt scraped raw, his heart exposed and bleeding. “You can’t change what you did, or who you hurt.”

  “I’m so sorry, Miles. Tell me what to do.”

  Reyes was red-eyed and desperate in a way that made Miles want to cry, as much as he wanted to rage at what Reyes had done. Twenty years ago, but a kid was still dead after being traumatized while Reyes did nothing to save him. A kid whose pain Miles empathized with more than he cared to admit.

  If he hadn’t had Wes around to prop him up last year, Miles could have very well ended up in the same place as Miguel.

  “I don’t know what you can do,” Miles said. “I can’t wrap my head around this. People change, but it was still you, Reyes. You stood there. You fucking watched.”

  “I was a coward.”

  “If Julio hadn’t shown up today, would you ever have told me this?”

  “I don’t know, and that’s the truth. I told myself you deserved to know it all, but I was terrified you’d leave me. I was a coward again, and I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry. Sorry doesn’t change what you did.” Miles needed space to think. He couldn’t fucking think with Reyes right there, looking so wounded that Miles wanted to make it better for him, knowing Reyes was miserable because of his own actions. “I can’t be here right now.”

  He stood, aware of Reyes following him to the cabin door, but keeping a respectful distance. “Where are you going?” Reyes asked.

  “I don’t know, I just can’t be here with you.”

  “You shouldn’t ride when you’re upset.”

  “Not riding. Just please, don’t follow me. And do not call me.”

  Reyes’s entire body shrank in on itself. “All right. If that’s what you need.”

  “It is.”

  Miles fled the cabin, unsure where he was going until he found himself at the ATV shed, starting one up. He knew the trail by now, but he was used to riding it on horses, not on this thing. But he found the house, anyway, despite the nearly set sun. Mack’s truck was there, so Miles took a chance on banging on their door.

  Wes opened it with a bright smile that fled immediately. “What happened? Did Dallas do something?”

  “Reyes.”

  “Reyes is hurt?”

  Miles shook his head, then shrank back when Mack appeared behind Wes. Had Mack known this secret?

  Wes held him by the shoulders, his eyes intense and angry. “Reyes hurt you?”

  The painful sob that lurched from Miles’s chest was the only affirmation Wes needed. He pulled Miles into the cabin, then upstairs to the loft. Miles didn’t know if Mack followed, and he probably didn’t. As soon as Wes sat him down on the edge of their king bed, Miles started sobbing for real. Wes held him while Miles cried out his confusion, fear, and pain. He cried for Miguel, a boy he’d never known but who felt like a friend for having suffered in a similar way. He cried for Julio, who’d lost his brother and his freedom. He cried for the teenage Reyes, who’d been terrified to stop a horrible act of violence because he feared the same fate. He cried for the adult Reyes, who’d distanced himself from his blood family out of shame and self-loathing.

  He also cried for himself. Two hours ago, his life had been wonderful. Almost too good to be true. And now...

  The joke is on me.

  Miles didn’t know how long he cried before his body had nothing left. He was lying in bed with Wes curled around him, hugging him tight while Miles got through it. Eventually, Miles found his voice to tell Wes about it, and then Wes raged on his behalf, because Wes was his best friend. Wes got how this story had shaken the foundation of Miles’s life and the way he saw Reyes—no longer through the lens of a hero, but that of a tarnished soul who had innocent blood on his hands.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Miles said after he’d blown his nose a few times.

  “You don’t have to know tonight, honey. You’ve been given a horrible shock, and you need to absorb it. You don’t owe Reyes any sort of forgiveness tonight.”

  “He was trying to protect me.”

  “Pretty sure you’ve proven you don’t need protecting anymore. And Reyes knows your history with Dallas and the shit he did to you. He should have been up front about this long before now.” Wes looked seriously pissed on his behalf, and Miles half expected him to fly down to the ranch and punch Reyes himself.

  “He was scared I’d dump him when I found out.”

  Wes studied him a beat. “Are you?”

  “I don’t know what I want to do. I still love him so much it hurts, but this is...ugh. So confusing. I look at him and I still see my boyfriend, but now there’s this undercurrent. This shadow of a guy who could stand there and watch a boy be tortured and do nothing, and it makes me sick.”

  “Then stay here for a few days. Take your time and sort this out. Find
the space you need, okay? Mack won’t object.”

  “Even through Reyes is his best friend? Is Mack here?”

  “No, he left while I dragged you up here, probably down to yell at Reyes for making you look so spooked.”

  “Mack doesn’t have to do that.”

  “Pretty sure it’s in progress, honey. Relax for a minute. This requires wine.”

  Miles snorted, but didn’t protest. He stared at the ceiling, while Wes fetched them two glasses and an open bottle of red sangria. Miles gulped his first glass down, needing the faint haze of the alcohol to take the edge off his internal pain. Tonight, his heart was beating in jagged pieces, and Miles had no idea if it would ever beat right again.

  * * *

  Reyes was in a hell of his own making, and he was finishing his second beer when Mack stormed the cabin, his anger filling the small space immediately.

  At least I know where Miles went and that he’s safe.

  More than anything, that had terrified him when Miles left earlier, because anyone could get lost out there in the dark wilderness. But Miles had gone to his best friend for comfort, and Reyes trusted Wes to keep him safe.

  “What in the blue hell did you do to Miles, you stupid son of a bitch?” Mack roared.

  Only Mack could ever get away with talking to Reyes like that. Reyes was in one of the sitting chairs and didn’t look up when he replied, “Told him the truth.”

  “The truth about what?”

  Reyes reached for a third beer and cracked the cap. Studied the way a bit of fizz and vapor swirled around the mouth of the longneck. “Something I did when I was sixteen and didn’t tell anyone about. Not even you.”

  Mack sat in the opposite chair. “Didn’t know we had any secrets between us.” He sounded more hurt than angry.

  “This secret was between me and the world. Never wanted anyone to know. It’s pretty awful.”

  “Guess it would have to be for Miles to run to Wes.”

  “Yeah.” Reyes took a long pull from his beer. “You wanna go get Colt? I don’t wanna have to say all this a third time.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

  Reyes stared at the label on his bottle, sick to his stomach over how Miles had reacted to this truth, and terrified his two best friends might react the same way. Like Reyes had betrayed him, kicked him in the stomach, and then laughed about it all. He wanted to make it better for Miles, but he didn’t know how. There was no fixing the past.

  All he could do was face it and deal with the fallout.

  * * *

  Mack was mostly numb by the time he got home a little after midnight, exhausted and emotionally worn out from Reyes’s confession. He’d met Reyes when they were both twelve-year-old troublemakers, and they’d bonded immediately. But when Reyes was fourteen, he changed. Got into gang life, stopped hanging with Mack, and became a different person almost overnight. And Mack had missed his friend.

  He was overjoyed when Reyes got out of the life two years later, and while he vaguely remembered a boy who’d killed himself, and the brother’s retaliation, he’d had no fucking clue Reyes was directly tied to any of it. The story of Reyes’s involvement had shredded him and Colt both, judging by Colt’s face. And yeah, Mack understood Miles’s reaction a lot more now, given the kid’s history with Dallas.

  Why is there so much evil in the world?

  Not that he thought Reyes himself was evil. Mack understood he’d been terrified and guilty, and it had eaten at Reyes for decades. But Mack nursed a little bit of hurt that his best friend for two-thirds of his life had kept this from him for so long.

  It also gave him more insight into who Reyes really was, deep down where he’d hidden this secret. Years of avoiding relationships, never wanting to date or try to find happiness with another person. He’d been punishing himself for the past two decades without realizing he was not only hurting himself, he was also hurting the people he kept at arm’s length.

  “I didn’t deserve that kind of love,” Reyes had said earlier that night. “Not after I helped ruin so many lives. And then after Luke...no.”

  Colt had disagreed that mistakes made someone unlovable—something Colt had personal experience with—and Mack had taken his side. Reyes had made a terrible choice as a hot-headed teenager, and he was living with the consequences. It didn’t mean Reyes deserved to be alone, and it absolutely didn’t mean Miles was dumping him.

  Mack let himself into the house, unsurprised to find it dark and silent. He nudged off his boots before climbing the stairs to the loft. He was, however, a bit surprised to find Wes and Miles asleep in their bed, sprawled together on top of the covers, with two glasses and an empty bottle of wine on Mack’s side table.

  Smiling at the pair and happy they had each other, Mack got an extra blanket from the bathroom closet and draped it over the slumbering friends. Even asleep, Miles looked troubled and unhappy, as if the weight of the world had been dumped onto his young shoulders. It was easy to forget Miles was only twenty-five, because he had the aura of someone much older. Someone who’d been ground down by life, but who wasn’t done fighting for his happiness.

  Mack had faith that Miles still wanted his happiness to be with Reyes. His friends could get through this and come out stronger on the other side for having faced it together. He tugged the blanket a bit higher on Miles’s shoulder, then whispered, “Don’t stop believing in him, Miles. Fight for what you want, you hear?”

  Miles mumbled something, as if hearing Mack’s words, and then slept on.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Shawn was back to work bright and early Saturday morning, and while Miles had a bit of a hangover from all that wine and his emotional outburst, he threw himself into prepping for the day. Waking up in bed with Wes had been a little surreal, and he’d started his morning with aspirin and a sports drink, but now Miles was here and doing his job.

  Still confused as fuck about Reyes’s confession, but whatever. He could think about it later.

  Except Shawn had become oddly attuned to his bad moods, and he spoke up during the post-lunch lull. “You aren’t mad because I called out yesterday, are you?” he asked. “I swear, I was legit sick.”

  “No, it isn’t you.” Miles added more chili to the hot line to refresh the container. Chili sales had been up a bit since the weather had cooled. “I’m having a personal crisis, is all. I don’t mean to bring it to work.”

  Shawn scowled. “Is it that creepy ex again?”

  “Shockingly, no.” He filled Shawn in on the Dallas news while he fired a new ticket for burgers and a side of corn fritters.

  “That’s amazing. I hope they throw the book at his ass.”

  That comment gave Miles an amusing mental image of Dallas bent over the judge’s bench while giant Bibles pelted his bare ass, and he snickered. “Me, too.”

  “You’re not having trouble with your boyfriend, are you?”

  Miles shrugged, because he wasn’t sure. Their relationship was great; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was Miles was so inside out about Reyes’s past and how it changed the way he looked at the man he’d fallen in love with.

  Shawn’s expression went fierce. “He do something to hurt you? You need me to beat him up?”

  That mental image was kind of hilarious, too, because Shawn was shorter than Miles and just as slim. Unless he had a black belt in something, no way could Shawn kick Reyes’s ass. But he appreciated the gesture all the same. “No, thank you. He didn’t hurt me, exactly, he just kept something from me, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m taking a few days away to figure it out.”

  “Got it.” Shawn handed him the piping hot corn fritters. “I hope things work out.”

  “Thanks. And thank you for the support. It means a lot.”

  “Not a problem. I know you’re my boss, but I also consider you a friend
, Miles.”

  “Same. Not the boss thing, but...you know.”

  Shawn laughed. “Yeah. Good luck, man.”

  They didn’t talk about it again that afternoon, and as the day waned, Miles helped himself to a bowl of chili for dinner, so he didn’t have to bother with Wes or Mack trying to feed him. He did accept a ride to their house, though, where he mostly wandered the woods until darkness forced him back.

  He still had no clear thoughts on what to do, or how he felt, so he watched a movie with his friends, and then went to bed in a guest room. Even though he didn’t participate in the noon holdup, Miles still wore a costume. He was currently borrowing it from Wes, but he’d need his own clothes soon.

  On Sunday evening, after work, Miles drove the ATV down to the ranch. His intention was to collect some personal things and maybe avoid Reyes—who ought to be at the weekly welcome barbecue—but when he saw the barn, the draw of an evening ride grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. He could take Tango out and enjoy the wild for a while, maybe find an answer to a question he wasn’t even sure how to ask.

  The new guests were all at the barbecue, so no one noticed him parking the ATV behind the barn and going inside through the north-facing side door. From the sound of it, Judson was doing the big opening speech, instead of Arthur, who was moving into a rehab facility early this week. Arthur wasn’t happy about not coming home right away, according to Mack, but he understood why the rehab was necessary if he wanted to hang around and keep rescuing horses.

  Miles led Tango out of her stall and down to the tack area to brush her. This was his favorite part of riding, if he was honest with himself. These quiet moments between man and beast, as he lovingly stroked her back, flanks, and neck. It created a relationship between them that was honest and true.

  Unlike people. Stroke them all you want, but they still keep secrets.

  He put the brush away and got a blanket.

  “Miles?” The quiet, anxious way Reyes said his name made Miles want to cry, because that wasn’t the voice of the strong, stoic man he knew.