by Zoey Marcel
Even after Mellie’s cowboys showered with her and got her ready for bed with a nice cuddling session, she was still soaring.
Chapter Five
Greyson watched the bristles of the brush glide over Sheol’s sleek chestnut summer coat. He had a vague awareness of what he was doing and that the sun was setting behind him. Hell, by the looks of things and the way the light had resigned to make room for its blue-green successor, it was probably twilight.
Sheol was tethered and munching on a generous pile of hay Greyson had tossed to him to feed on. The pile looked huge, but it wasn’t gluttonous, just enough to let Sheol know that he was Greyson’s favorite horse.
His thoughts kept going back to Melanie for as much as he wished they wouldn’t. He’d given her permission, or rather encouraged—borderline ordered—her to sleep with his brothers and Diego tonight. Tomorrow he would start her training in submission and it would be a hell of a lot easier to keep from feeling too much for her with the knowledge that she’d gotten naked with other men the night before playing in his mind.
His gullible siblings would imagine that he was turning soft with age and coming around to their polygamous marriage bullshit. He’d go along with it if it would shut them up, and it was the perfect cover—to pretend to be a compliant son and brother following in the McKenna Downs tradition while using duty to mask these soul-deep feelings. Maybe it would be enough to just be near Melanie. He didn’t need her to love him. He just needed her.
Footsteps sent his left hand to his holster, but the sight of his approaching father when he glanced over his shoulder put a stop to it.
“How goes it, son?” Herschel O’Neil inquired as he drew closer.
“Well enough. What are you up to?”
“Just snacking on Lucky Charms and enjoying the sunset.” His father’s voice changed a little when he spoke to the horse. “Well, all right, Sheol. You twisted my arm.”
Greyson smiled and shook his head as he kept brushing the steed. “Are you gonna brush his teeth afterward?”
Herschel grinned. “Oh lord, are you still brushing the horses’ teeth?”
“Not every horse. That would be ridiculous.” Greyson was halfhearted in his attempt to suppress his meager smile as he laid his arm on the horse’s rump and walked around to the other side of him. “Just his and only after something like Lucky Charms.”
Herschel laughed. “I knew you were sneaking him some, too. The old boy loves them, don’t you?”
Sheol nibbled at the plastic sandwich bag once he’d finished chewing the cereal in his mouth. Herschel poured some into his hand and fed the horse a little more.
“The word is you’ve decided to join your brothers and that other fella with Melanie.”
Greyson snorted. “You mean Diego?”
Herschel rubbed behind the animal’s ear. “Yeah, him.”
“Are you here to gloat?”
“Me?” He blew out a long breath. “Oh no, I never gloat. I just beam with victory.”
“Is that what you call it?”
Herschel smiled a little before becoming solemn. “Is that what you want, son?”
“For you to gloat?”
“Sharing Melanie with them.”
“I knew what you meant. I’m fine with it.”
“Just like that, huh? It’s not like you to have a change of heart so suddenly.”
“Maybe the years have made me sweet.” Both men looked at each other and then smirked. “Not buying that one, huh?”
“Not so much. She’s perfect for you, you know. I’m glad you’re finally giving her a chance, but your one-eighty is a bit unexpected.”
“So what you’re saying is I should be more like you and take years to come back to my family?”
Herschel made an exaggerated wince. “Oo, he went for the low blow. It turned out all right.”
“I’m fine with the arrangement. A brush with death has made me realize what’s important.”
“That’s fine, son, but do you love her?”
His heart stuttered, glowing warm and soft in his chest. “You got what you wanted, Herschel. Everyone did. Now quit harassing me.”
“Sorry. I just want you to be happy.”
“So you’ve told me many times. I’ll be as happy as you were with…”
Both men were quiet for a minute. Only the sound of the horse chewing and crickets striking up their lyrical melody filled the silence.
“I loved Elsa, son. You have to know that.”
“I know you did. Not only that. I know you married her even though Lena was the one you wanted. People talk.”
“They do, sometimes without actually speaking.” Hershel nodded slowly, features solemn with regret and unmistakable guilt. It was an emotion so familiar Greyson recognized it whenever he saw it. “What I did to Elsa is exactly what you did to Tasha.”
The brush froze mid-stroke and he nearly quit breathing. “What exactly are you implying?”
Herschel’s serious gaze chipped away at Greyson’s futile attempt to hide by not looking at his father. “I know you have feelings for Diego, son. I’ve suspected it for a while now.”
“We’re friends,” Greyson said quietly, still not looking at him. He noticed his hand’s inaction and got right back to brushing the horse. Nonchalance might be more believable if he didn’t appear so shaken.
“Friends don’t look at each other that way or stand so close to each other. A father notices these things, or he should.”
“The subject isn’t open for discussion.”
Herschel petted the horse’s withers. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just wanted you to know that it’s okay to feel that way. I personally think men are ugly, but I fully support you if you don’t.”
Greyson felt warm and began to wish the horse was twenty hands high instead of sixteen. “You have a knack for making people uncomfortable, don’t you?”
Herschel chuckled. “Sorry. I’d just hate for you to throw away your chance to be with someone so right for you.”
Stupid horse, grow.
Well, since the horse wasn’t exactly being accommodating in the miraculous growth spurt department, he decided to try another tactic. “That’s funny coming from someone who did exactly the opposite. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you were meant to be with them. Things are complicated.”
“You love him, don’t you?”
Greyson’s heart stammered like a stalling engine. He walked swiftly to the bucket and exchanged the brush for a hoof pick. “I was talking about you and Lena.”
“No, you weren’t.”
He decided to clear the hooves on the horse’s right side first for once to hide from his meddling father. It bugged him immensely that he was picking the animal’s hooves out of order, but he figured he would just have to cope with the insane chaos to avoid the awkward confrontation with Herschel.
“Why don’t you just go after Lena now that you’re available again?”
“I can’t find her.” Herschel’s voice clouded with sorrow. “That woman can sure hide when she wants to. I wonder if Hart and Alan ever tried looking for her like I did.”
“Just don’t start a brawl in your old age.”
Herschel smirked. “These old fists still got plenty of throwing punches to do. Same-sex marriage is legal in Minnesota. Kind of neat how it’s just next door to our state.”
Greyson flushed with embarrassment and moved to the next hoof. “That’s great, Herschel. Go elope with Hart and Alan then.”
Herschel burst into laughter. “With those ugly fellas? Hell no. I’ve got my pride. Got to keep myself single in case fate ever steps in. I never told you this, but she’s your mother.”
“I know.”
“I’m not talking about Elsa. I meant Lena.”
Greyson stood and then walked around Sheol to face his father. “What did you say?”
“All your brothers came from my marriage to Elsa. You were Lena’s gift to me.”
He scrutini
zed Herschel for any sign of jest, but none was present. “So I’m a bastard?”
Herschel winked at him. “Well, we both knew that already.”
Greyson cracked a crooked grin and then sobered. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
“Well, you know, you’ve always been so angsty and fiery.”
“I am not angsty.” He lowered his tone when Herschel raised a “ha, right there” brow at him. “I have passion.”
“Angry passion.”
His eyes narrowed, but a subtle smile peeked through. “Shut up.”
Herschel chortled before his features dimmed with regret. “After Lena walked out of my life and Hart’s and Alan’s, eventually she left you on my doorstep with a note. I still have it. Smells like her. Not anymore obviously, but I still remember her scent. White Shoulders—that was the perfume she always wore.”
“What did the note say?”
Herschel’s eyes grew bleak with suffering. “She said she was dying, that you were my baby and she wanted me to raise you. You’ve had blood tests. You’re definitely mine.” His voice cracked a little. “She also said she’d always love me. Never saw her again.”
Greyson had his arm resting against the horse as he glanced down at his boots in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Herschel nodded. “I got you, though. You look more like me than her, but you’ve got some of her in you, too. You’re the best thing that’s mine. I only wish we could have been closer.”
Greyson cast his focus downward again for a second. “Me, too.”
“I loved Elsa, son. I really did.” His pitch dropped. “I just loved Lena more. I don’t even know if she got better and lived, or if she passed away.” His father peered down and his eyebrows popped up for a split second before sinking again in a subtle display of emotion. “Reckon I’ll never know.”
The silence between them was littered with singing crickets.
“Thanks for what you said about Minnesota.” Greyson preferred to deflect attention rather than attract it, but anything was worth pulling his father out of his grief.
A steady smile spread over Herschel’s face. “Glad to keep you informed, although you could try watching the news once in a while.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I know.” Herschel came to stand in his view while Greyson picked the horse’s front left hoof. “I don’t know what you’re running from, son, or what you’re afraid of, but I can promise you that you’ll regret it if you let this chance with him pass you by. You can have both Diego and Melanie.”
“You still ended up happy even though you didn’t go after what you wanted or ever leave this fucking town.”
“Is that why you don’t think much of your old man—because I didn’t make something of myself?”
Greyson heaved a sigh as he set Sheol’s hoof down and stood. “You didn’t go after what you wanted. You settled and made some poor woman feel like second best. I spent years pissed at you for growing comfortable in a life you didn’t want and cheating Elsa out of whoever her soul mate really was.”
“You mean the way you did with Tasha?”
He glared at his old man and then picked the final hoof when Herschel moved aside for him. “Tasha didn’t give a shit about me. Elsa loved you.”
“Not at first she didn’t. She asked me out with and I quote, ‘It’s come to my attention that you’re tolerable to look at and reasonably healthy. I feel we should commence with the social formalities that eventually lead to sexual congress so we can do our biological duty and procreate to further the human race. If I sustain any enjoyment from this I certainly won’t complain, though.’”
Greyson smirked. “She said that?”
“Pretty much word for word.”
He shook his head, feeling a veil of fondness cover him. “She always was entertaining.”
“That she was. We liked each other a lot, but neither one of us was in love with the other before we wed. The only reason we got hitched was because Alan caught us in bed together and threatened to shoot or geld me if I didn’t marry her.” Herschel sounded amused and his blue eyes danced with mischief. “Nothing like a well-meaning threat between friends to make a man realize he feels something for his best friend’s sister.”
Greyson smiled.
“Elsa and I grew to love each other during our marriage. We were lucky.”
He stood and tossed the hoof pick over to the bucket, feeling a sense of manly pride when the tool landed in it.
He scores.
“For all the times you talked about Lena to me and the way you regret losing her, how the hell did you end up happy? No one has a right to be so jolly in the face of disappointment.”
“You want me to be miserable, eh?”
“Of course not.”
“Life is a tradeoff, son. If I’d had Lena by my side, your brothers never would have been born.” Herschel blinked and his weathered features eased with affection. “God knows I miss her and wish things could have been different, but I wouldn’t trade having your brothers for anything. I look at you and I see her. It’s like I have a little piece of her with me.”
Another pause followed and Greyson became aware of his rapidly darkening surroundings. Twilight was debatable now. The blue-green haze was vanishing and becoming the midnight blue of evening. Murals of true black hung like an opaque drape in the highest parts of the sky. Twinkling stars shined through the onyx spread, and the pale light of the moon dowsed the land with its ghostly presence. It was a half-assed three quarters of a moon and in its waxing phase if memory served him correctly.
“And as far as not ever making something of myself, I reckon I’m less ambitious than you boys. I’m a simple man who enjoys the little things in life. All I really wanted in life was the ranching and having a family. Nothing special, I admit, but it gives me a good feeling when I go to bed every night.”
“I never said you didn’t make something of yourself,” Greyson said quietly. “I’ve always appreciated how content you were with the simple things. You knew how to have fun even in a small town. You let us speak our minds and encouraged us to think. I’ve always respected you, even when I didn’t show it.”
“That means a lot, son. I’ve always been proud of you. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
Greyson crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, peeking at the ground before meeting his father’s gaze. “You mean aside from all the times I almost got myself killed?”
Herschel’s brow furrowed, but his lips pulled taut slowly. “Yeah, that wasn’t too smart of you. I’d tell you that you get it from your mother, but she was smarter than me.”
“I doubt that. She walked away from you.”
The old man gave him a lopsided smile of gratitude. “Lena didn’t want to ruin my friendship with Alan and Hart when she saw us all fighting over her. It was actually the loving thing to do on her part.” He drew in a deep inhale. “Well, I’ll carry the bucket for you.”
“Thanks, but I was thinking on letting him spend the night beneath the stars.”
Greyson untethered Sheol and gave him a permissive pat on the rump. The horse snorted an exhale and swished his tail as he trotted off into the pasture to get chummy with his equine friends.
“Weather’s nice for it,” Herschel agreed.
“She’s not dead.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Greyson turned to look at him. “Lena.”
His father appeared vulnerable and vaguely hopeful. “What makes you so sure?”
“She didn’t say good-bye.” They stared at each other for a minute. “If I was dying the only thing on my mind would be to see the face of the person I loved one last time. I’d spend every last second I had holding them and telling them how much I loved them. I wouldn’t travel for God knows how many miles only to be right there and just leave a note. If she loved you half as much as you let on, then she wouldn’t do that either.”
The moonbeams filtered over Hersch
el’s expression—one of immense relief and countless questions. “You think she fabricated that dying bit?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would she lie?”
Greyson shrugged. “Maybe she wanted you to have closure.”
“She wouldn’t have given up her child if she hadn’t been dying.”
“Maybe she had another good reason for doing so.”
Herschel looked confused and excited as they walked together. “I can’t think of one, unless she wanted to protect you from someone, but why would she have to hide you from anyone? The blood tests proved you were mine, so it’s not like some other fella is your father and gonna come after you.”
“Who knows? Maybe someday she’ll come back to McKenna Downs.”
“If I don’t find her first.”
Greyson looked at him. “Don’t lose your head and go on a wild goose chase. I could be wrong for all you know.”
“Nah, I think you’re right. It doesn’t make sense that she wouldn’t come inside the house to see me if she was really dying.” Herschel got a giddy half grin on his face. “Well, you’ve given an old man something to think about.”
Greyson smiled.
“How did you figure that out anyway? It’s tough to know what you’d do if you were dying.”
His smile fled from him. “Lucky guess.”
He fought to keep the haunting memory at bay. He knew because he’d been there once. Death had stared him in the face with its gleaming dagger dragging insidiously over his neck and chest, whispering threats of finality to him. And the only thing that had crossed his mind was the face of the one he loved. If he’d been permitted to he would have thrown himself at Diego in that moment if he’d been there and held him close. He would have said the words he’d left unspoken and never let the man go until the cruel hands of fate ripped them apart.
He could have a ménage with Diego and Melanie, but it would be safer to have a polygamous relationship and keep the three-way notion out of it. God, he wanted them, but what if feeling Diego’s body against his while they shared Melanie in bed together had the same effect it had on him with the last three women he’d been with years ago? What if he became dependent again on the drug that was Diego for his erections and orgasms?