by K-lee Klein
JT’s brain whirled as he sought the perfect sassy comeback. “I never said I liked the Stars in particular, did I?” Obviously, his sass had failed him again.
Then Brett was behind him, strong arms wrapped snugly around JT’s chest, forcing his back against the hard wooden chair.
“Dammit, Brett. Stop squishing me.”
He made himself struggle against Brett’s strong arms, but even being the smaller man of the two, Brett didn’t budge in his sturdy stance. JT growled pathetically, immediately embarrassed since Brett was the champion growler in the family. Coming from JT, it didn’t sound any scarier than when Whiz tried his hand—paw—at it. He knew Brett would let him go if he sensed it was what JT really wanted, so he gave up—gave in—and relaxed back into his seat. Brett pressed his lips to the top of his head, breathing hot against his hair and tapping JT with the tip of his nose.
“You know I’d never upset you on purpose, right? Rather cut off a leg than do that.”
It was the truth, and JT was tempted to let Brett off the hook—especially since his shower-fresh scent swirled round his head, tempting, taunting. And everything from Brett’s mouth was heartfelt with his perfectly placed kisses and caresses, the dampness of soft curls brushing JT’s neck as Brett trailed his lips lower.
But when Brett started lapping at that sensitive spot behind JT’s ear, JT knew he had to put the brakes on.
“Oh, stop kissing my ass—”
“Don’t think that’s what I’m kissing.”
JT shoved him away, just enough to avoid the touch of his sweet mouth. “Come on, cowboy. Just admit you screwed up, and I’ll admit I’m a bit angry about it. Then we can move on and enjoy our happy little lives.” The words were way harsher than JT had intended, but Brett didn’t even flinch against him. The bastard.
“Damn. Where’d that sarcastic streak come from? I think you’ve been hanging ’round Ray too much.”
Had JT lived in an older era, he would have swooned at the steady warmth of Brett’s breath against his skin, the way it swept through his body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It was silly as hell, but there was no feeling like it anywhere else in the world. But instead of letting Brett get to him, JT was supposed to be punishing him… just a little.
“Well, Ray is my boss.”
Brett jerked back like he’d been burned. “Your boss? Whoa, sweetheart. That hurts. Feel like I just got fired, ’cause it’s not like I own the damn place or nothing.”
JT moaned and tipped his head back so he was seeing Brett upside down. Snarkiness wasn’t generally in his nature, and he hadn’t intended on being outright mean. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That’s not what—”
“It’s all good,” Brett muttered. But his actions were louder than his words when he shifted away from JT. He started for the door with hat in hand, his face a mask of indifference. JT didn’t buy it. Brett was too easy to read, too emotionally open for the front he was presenting. But before he could challenge his cowboy, a flurry of paws echoed through the kitchen.
Whiz scrambled across the floor, sideswiping a chair as he sprinted full speed ahead. He lost his balance, sliding across the hardwood with a look of wide-eyed terror on his face before he plowed headfirst into Brett’s legs. JT held back a laugh because the pup had the balance and coordination of a newborn colt. Brett assured him it was something the pup would grow out of, but Whiz’s awkwardness reminded JT of hitting puberty when his own six feet of limbs were suddenly too long and gangly for his body and pubescent brain. Of course, Whiz was cute in that particular situation—JT, not so much.
“Maybe we should talk about—” JT finally lifted off the chair, reaching for Whiz, who completely ignored him for the possibility of joining Brett outside again.
It was another broken Cupid’s arrow lodged in JT’s chest. Emo much, Johan?
“I’m gonna head to the stable. Tray was acting up last night. Gonna go have a looksee, make sure he’s all right before Ray starts bossing me around.” He winked as JT shuffled closer.
With a heavy sigh, he glided his hand over Brett’s jacket. “I just wanted to talk about tonight. Thought we’d spend some time—”
Brett spoke over him. “Alrighty then. Guess I’m gonna take a Whiz.”
The old, and bad, joke made JT snicker because, really, what else could he do when Brett was avoiding the entire subject of Valentine’s Day and their romantic dinner with the folks. He knew Brett would think on it and come up with something to say later—because he’d spoken nothing but the truth when he said he’d never hurt JT on purpose.
“You know that’s not any funnier than the last hundred times you said it. Now go before he whizzes on the floor.”
Brett turned to face him for no more than a handful of heartbeats, his eyes brighter than they should have been at fuck-o’clock in the morning, not to mention he’d practically landed himself in the doghouse before 7:00 a.m.
“Don’t fret, Darlin’. I know you’ll tell me what dumbass thing I’ve done eventually. I’ll see you later.”
JT nodded sullenly as Brett and Whiz stepped through the screen door and out onto the porch. JT would wait until Ray came for his coffee, then start his day too. Maybe being alone with his feelings was exactly what he needed… or maybe that was the worst thing for him. He had no freaking idea. Going back to bed to start the day again was also a possibility; unfortunately that wasn’t one of the multiple choices listed in the reality checklist.
He was contemplating a caffeine refill for motivation when the door squeaked open again. Brett peeked inside, a silly grin on his face as he stroked over his tidy goatee.
“Forget something?”
“Just to tell you I love you.”
JT bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the dopey twist of his mouth that he imagined matched Brett’s to a T. His voice cracked like he was going through puberty again—not in a million years would he wish that on anyone—but he at least managed sincere. “Love you too.”
He groaned in heartfelt exasperation when the screen door slammed shut again. He was acting like a child, and a spoiled one at that. Lately, their relationship had been so simple and easy, even more so after Brett had declared his love at Thanksgiving. And a quiet Christmas with practical gifts and a small turkey dinner with Millie and Ray had provided peace and sense of belonging to JT’s parched soul.
He supposed it was time to put up or shut up. Brett was Brett, and he was everything JT wanted, had ever wanted, everything he did want. All he needed to do was pull up his big boy pants and stop acting like a needy sap.
Brett was his, and a single Valentine’s Day spent in a dumpy bar with Ray and Millie wouldn’t change that.
Chapter 2
THE ROUTINE running of the ranch was engrained in all of them. JT, Brett, and Ray had their own roles, their chores, and things they were in charge of. It was usually comfortable and familiar, but something seemed off on dreaded V-Day. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. No one acted disgruntled or bitchy, quite the opposite.
The atmosphere was light, as if some good fairy had sprinkled happy dust over the ranch. Brett was almost overwhelmingly joyous, annoyingly so when combined with the melancholy mood JT hadn’t been able to shake. He strode around like he didn’t have a care in the world, teasing JT and exchanging barbs with Ray, not even batting an angry eye when the delivery guy screwed up the order he’d been waiting on for weeks.
No, it was definitely an abnormal, normal day. And in the end, JT ended up with far too much time on his own to ruminate about goddamn February the fourteenth.
It all came to a head when Ray sent him to the old barn to finish painting some odds and sods, the same thing he’d been dawdling with for the past three days. Unfortunately, the barn was exactly what he didn’t need when he was already feeling unsettled. Truth was, he’d never managed to become completely at ease in the place that held such great and grave importance to Brett.
After Brett had bared his heart and soul dur
ing Thanksgiving dinner in November, the barn had been first on his list to fix up. Ray had gently, in his own gruff way, vetoed the idea, with a very agreeable JT on his side. He told Brett it wasn’t something that needed to be done right away and it was perfectly fine to let it sit for a while longer. And JT had accidentally overheard….
“You told the kid you loved him. That’s a big step, son. But nobody expects you to wipe the history slate clean all at once. Why don’t we both think on it until you know exactly what you wanna do with it? We’ve gone this long without it, so a little more time ain’t gonna hurt anyone.”
It had been good advice and the right advice. And now, months later, Brett still hadn’t made a decision, or at least he hadn’t confided in JT about it. They were utilizing the old shack, though, despite JT’s feelings of unrest. It was good for storage mostly, but also a place to paint and fix up the smaller stuff around the ranch that needed attention.
Regrettably, every time JT stepped through the door, he was instantly on edge. It wasn’t about the letters he’d discovered in their old guitar cases or even the confrontation with Brett that had changed the course of their relationship for the better. It was more the knowledge that it had been so special to Brett and Walt, and thus remained an enigma between Brett and JT. The barn retained significant memories that JT would never have with his cowboy, good memories that would never fade because of the literal broad side of a barn reminder.
Not to mention the horrific event that he couldn’t help thinking would forever keep Brett tied to the saddest part of his past.
Walt had, for all intents and purposes, fallen to his death while he was setting up a surprise for Brett, and the bloodstained floor was a constant reminder of those very facts. JT repeatedly covered the stain with straw, but he still felt awkward and more than a little anxious when he had to spend any time there. It was ridiculous, and he chastised himself often for not mentioning his discomfort to either Brett or Ray.
It was just a barn—four walls, a loft, some hay, and a few tools. There were no ghosts of boyfriends past or plucked heartstrings just waiting to jump out and say, “boo.” It. Was. Just. A. Barn. But that didn’t make JT’s heart race any less when he stepped inside.
“You okay, kid?”
JT startled, prickles forming under his skin as he shot up from his crouched position. There were times he could have sworn Ray was a creepy-as-fuck ninja. Most days he stomped around the ranch, his boots heavy against the hard earth despite his lean and mean appearance as if he was making a statement by simply being there. Other times he appeared out of nowhere, his movements silent and stealthy as he crept and slinked. Not that he really did either, but geez, it was uncanny how he always seemed to know exactly the right time and place to be when JT didn’t want to talk to anyone—or did he?
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ray tugged off his hat, scrubbing the top of his head until his hair stood up in little silver spikes flaked with dirt that made it look like he had indulged in some fancy highlights, or would they be lowlights? “Not sure why you haven’t just told him how you feel about this goddamn barn.”
THEN THERE was the third Ray, the one who knew what JT was thinking without just cause or reason. It was that Ray who freaked JT out the most, the one with the quiet questions and faked indifference.
“I’m a psych major. We don’t believe in ghosts.”
Ray shook his head, not a hint of a smile on his weathered face. It was the kind of serious conversation JT hadn’t had with him since he and Brett had become a couple. Moths fluttered in his belly, and he suddenly felt even more on edge. “Memories, then? You believe in those?”
JT tried for casual. “What are you trying to say, Ray?”
“You and him are so much alike. Have I ever told you that?” Ray cocked his pelvis to the side, settling one hand on his bony hip like he was posing for some high-fashion model shoot. JT had no desire to get into whatever he was talking about, but….
“Me and Brett?”
“Hell no. You and Walt.”
If there was ever anything JT did not want to hear Ray say—and especially today—that had to be it. He’d worried about how he’d ever match up to Walt from the beginning—the pedestaled lover who still owned space inside Brett’s gigantic heart. That wasn’t to say JT didn’t think he was loved—he knew he was—but it was hard to live up to the memories of the only other man Brett had ever cared for.
Then there was the fact they were living on Walt’s ranch, JT was standing awkwardly in Walt’s barn with Walt’s best friend, and Brett had at one time been Walt’s. Most days those realizations weren’t even a blip on JT’s radar. Brett kept him healthy, happy, well cared for, and loved. But on days like fricking Valentine’s Day, insecurity obviously tore him up from the inside out—thoughts and questions better left unheard and unsaid because they were needy and embarrassing.
With a shrug, he turned his back on Ray again, shuffling to the pile of wood he’d been painting. “You think he’ll ever do something with this place?”
“I don’t think he should. Don’t seem like we need it much. Burn it to the damn ground for all I care. In the end it’s his choice, but maybe he needs to know your thoughts on it, kid.”
“I don’t have a right to give my two cents… on this.”
“Now, see, that’s where I think you’re wrong, and that’s also where you and Walt are alike.”
JT twisted back to face Ray, gnawing on his bottom lip as trepidation soared through him. “I’m not following you.” And he wasn’t. Ray talked in riddles and sarcastic rhymes on the best of days, and when JT was already flustered with him—with the situation—it wasn’t a good scene.
“The both of you treat or treated Brett the same, like he’s made of spun glass or some darn thing, fragile-like, or like he don’t have the brains God gave him. He’s been to hell and back, and I reckon you’ve seen the worst Brett Taylor there is. But it confuses the shit out of me that you don’t think he can handle you telling him the barn gives you the heebie-jeebies because of its history.”
“But that’s the most important word, isn’t it, Ray? It’s his history with Walt.”
Ray tugged at the brim of his hat, scowling his reply. “I know it. I was here for the whole bloody thing—the good, the bad, and everything in between, including finding my best friend laid out on the floor after the fall. Do you think the other things they did in here will ever outweigh what this barn really represents to Brett? How he feels whenever he looks at the stupid blood stain on the floor or that rickety old ladder to the loft.” JT must have involuntarily flinched because Ray slapped a hand on his thigh and frowned. “Mercy’s sake, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
JT wasn’t offended. Facts were facts—if he’d learned anything from the chilly demeanor of his mother, that was it. “If you’ve got more to say, I want to hear it.”
“Oh hell. You know he scrubbed his hands raw trying to get that damn stain out, and if either one of you think tossing some straw over it will ever make it go away, then you’re both damn fools.”
JT averted his gaze, studying his mud-smeared boots. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think, Ray?”
Ray finally cracked a smile, not wide and grinning, just curled and full of relief. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind, son? The barn or Brett?”
“Maybe a little of both.” JT lifted his head, squinting one eye at Ray while the old geezer grinned suspiciously. The air around them was unexpectedly less suffocating, and JT appreciated the return to light casualness. He liked it when Ray couldn’t read his mind because those times seemed few and far between. But the grin on his face seemed a little inappropriate, didn’t it? Maybe a change in the conversation was what was needed. “So, did you buy Millie some sappy flowers for tonight?”
JT was thankful for Ray’s ability to not drag a conversation out. “Yep. You?”
“Millie’s not my girlfriend.”
With a f
rown, Ray kicked a pathetic dust-cloud of straw at JT. “You’re becoming a smartass just like your idiot boyfriend.”
“Funny. He says the same thing about you.”
Ray offered an overly theatrical bow. “He’d be talking about it in a good way then, wouldn’t he? On account of how damn hilarious I am.”
JT snickered, but his brain had already moved on, or was it back, to Brett. “Did Walt and Brett celebrate… you know, Valentine’s Day?”
Ray snorted before replying, a hint of amused disgust peppering the sound. “Oh yeah. Silly bastards.”
“Walt was into that kind of thing? Romancing?”
“Seemed more his strong suit than Brett’s, except on this particular day.”
JT hesitated. “What… what do you mean?”
“Sappiest pup you’ve ever seen.” Ray scoffed and rubbed his flat belly. “Used to make me stomach-sick with all his efforts.”
“Wait.” JT shifted his feet, rocking back and forth while he formulated a question that wasn’t simply, Whatthefuck? “Brett did things for Walt because—because it was Valentine’s Day?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as shaky to Ray as it did to his own ears.
“Did things, bought things, acted like a fool one day of the year, at least if he wasn’t on tour. If he was away, the deliveries happened, and sometimes that was even worse.”
“Oh.” What else could he say when his heart had dropped into his stomach? It certainly wasn’t what he expected—wanted—to hear. He supposed that would teach him for being too curious. “That’s nice, I guess.”
“Yeah, if you like that kind of romantic bullshit.” Ray’s smile grew smug, the normal twinkle in his eyes returning to partial brightness. “Well, unless you want to shoot some more shit, I best get on with the day. Can’t keep a date waiting ’cause I didn’t get my work done in time, now can I?”
JT’s throat was dry when he answered, his mouth magically filled with foul-tasting cotton. “No. Millie would tear a strip off you for sure.”