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  Spencer’s eyes flick up to mine and he licks his lips, a nervous tick that settles some of the what the fuck are you doing churning in my gut.

  “If you have to ask me, E, you aren’t paying enough attention,” he murmurs, his voice that low rumble that makes me ache. I want to press him to explain that, but he ducks away with a grin to play the song Violet roped him into performing while she and Danny do some fucking sand ceremony.

  I didn’t ask for details. Sometimes it’s better to not know, when it comes to my sisters.

  “You ok?” Ruby asks out of nowhere, and I turn to her, startled.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be doing maid of honor-ly things?”

  Ruby makes a face. “I think at this point, the most maid of honor-ly thing I can do is not strangling her before she says ‘I do’.” Her eyes narrow. “And you’re deflecting. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  She’s quiet for a long minute, watching me. Her gaze darts to Spencer and then, carefully, she asks, “Do you know what you’re doing, with him?”

  I shoot her a hard glare and she meets it evenly. “Ethan, you were too afraid of losing him to take a chance. For years. So I’m asking you—are you sure this is smart?”

  “Dating him?” I demand.

  Her expression go a little tight but she shrugs. “Sure.”

  Fuck. She knows, but she’s not going to confront me, not here, which means—

  I look at Spence, and he gives me a curious, concerned stare, and I smile at him, nodding once.

  “Yeah, Rubes. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  This is Texas, and we’re the Henry’s, so Mama has emptied one of the least used barns. The ranch hands have set up tables and cleared a space for a band and dance floor, and outside, the air is thick and smoky with the scent of BBQ. Violet is grinning, her nerves finally draining away as the party kicks off, and Ruby is nursing a beer as she stares critically at the food.

  Spence is shoving a shot in my hand, flushed and grinning as he toasts Danny before throwing it back. He’s loose and happy, and I fucking love him like this, so vibrant he seems to glow.

  “Dance with me, big guy,” he says, all teasing and sultry, and I don’t check to see who’s listening because I don’t care.

  I let him tug me on the dance floor and he’s clinging to me, maybe a little bit too close for a family affair, but I won’t push him away. I only get to keep this for another thirty hours. There’s no way in hell I’m going to push him away.

  He’s humming happily in my ear, singing along to the music in a low, dirty croon that’s driving me fucking crazy.

  “How much did you have to drink?” I murmur, ducking down to press against his shoulder.

  His hand on my hip tightens briefly and he’s smiling. “Not enough that I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, and I pull back to stare at him. Something flickers in his eyes briefly and then he breathes a low curse, pulling me into him by the grip on my neck.

  It’s different from the kiss in the club. It’s gentle and hesitant, like he’s asking permission for something he hasn’t been given yet. His tongue flicks along the seam of my lips and his fingers flex at the nape of my neck. I make a low wounded sound before I open to him and he sighs, licking into my mouth with a gentle eagerness that makes my knees go weak.

  His arm around my waist keeps me standing, but barely, and I pull back just a little, just enough to see the red glossy lips and blown pupils of his eyes, and I curse.

  I grab his hand and yank him off the dance floor and out of the barn, almost running as I pull him down away from my family and into the darkness. There’s a small cropping of trees and I beeline for it.

  The whole time I expect him to protest, to pull back and tell me to stop, to demand an explanation, but he doesn’t.

  If anything he pushes me along, anxious fingers on my hip and back, and his lips pressing against my shoulder whenever I hesitate, making anxious little noises like he’s wounded and needs something I haven’t given him yet.

  It’s driving me crazy and when we hit the stand of trees, I push him into the closest one, hard, shove my thigh between his legs, and kiss him the way I’ve wanted to for fucking years.

  He grapples at my shoulders, whining under my lips, pulling me closer as he writhes against my thigh and bites at my lip.

  “Spence,” I gasp, ripping away, and he moans, chasing my mouth.

  “Don’t—just—just—kiss me,” he pants, the words puffing against my lips. “Fuck, E, please.”

  I groan and dive back in, kissing him hard and hungry. He whimpers against me as my tongue slides into his mouth, nudging over his teeth and tasting, licking into the hot wet of him, licking out the wounded little noises he’s making.

  I startle when he thrusts against my leg, hips moving in these desperate little rolls, like he can’t help himself, and I pull back to watch as Spencer rides me, his mouth open and hands balled in my gray button down, gaze hazy and desperate.

  He’s fucking gorgeous and he’s driving me out of my goddamn mind.

  I palm his hip, holding him still, and he makes a sound, all wounded distress, in his throat, glaring at me through clouded eyes. I press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Shhh. Just wait, baby,” I murmur, and his eyes go wide.

  He relaxes against the tree as I unzip his pants and slide a hand into his boxers.

  I want to shove them down and sink to my knees, want to take him in my mouth and worship him.

  I want to turn him and spread him open on my fingers and tongue, and fuck him until he can’t remember anyone else.

  But I don’t get that, don’t get any of that—this is more than I should get. So I keep it chaste, shove his boxers down under just enough to work and stroke him, quick and easy, as I kiss him and he quakes silently under me.

  The kiss goes wet and sloppy when I rub my thumb over the head of his cock, and he curses, hips pushing up against my hold. His eyes are bright, staring down at where I’m stroking him.

  “Fuck, Ethan,” he groans, and I twist my hand a little.

  He shouts when he comes, this hoarse, startled noise, clutching at me, like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, his body shuddering as he shoots over my fist, hot and hard, his cock jerking in my grip as I stroke him through it until he bats weakly at my hand.

  For a moment, we stand there, pressed close. He arches his head, lips seeking, and I kiss him briefly, just briefly.

  He hums against my mouth happily, and his hand goes to my waist. I catch his it, stopping him, and he pulls back a little, tiny frown between his eyes. “Ethan? C’mon, big guy, lemme help you out.”

  “Stop,” I say. My voice sounds cut off and wrecked, and his eyes widen at it, as I step away.

  His come is still on my fingers and he’s got the hint of stubble burn on his fucking neck, and he’s looking at me in hurt confusion.

  “Christ, Spence, what the—what are you doing?”

  He flinches and looks away. His face does this thing, shutting down and closing off, and I’ve seen it before but never because of something I said or did. It fucking hurts to see it now.

  “Something stupid, apparently,” he says. “Just . . . got carried away.”

  “Carried away?” I hiss, “Carried away is a fucking kiss. Not handjobs in the goddamn woods.”

  “You kissed me,” he snarls, furious suddenly, “Remember that? You kissed me first, and you fucking know what that did to me.”

  “I was drunk!” I yell.

  “You always are,” he says, his voice twisting into a bitter laugh. “Whenever you touch me, you’re drunk. You’d think I’d learn.”

  I freeze, staring at him. That doesn’t make any sense.

  None of this is making any goddamn sense.

  “Spencer,” I say weakly. “What the fuck, man?”

  He looks at me, gaze is a little wistful and a whole lot hurt, and it makes me ache.

  “I thought, maybe if w
e fake it for a few days, you could see how great we are. And it was working. I know you see it. We’re good together.”

  I stare at him, at the pleading in his eyes, and I say the first thing that comes to mind. “You have a girlfriend!”

  He has the audacity to look startled, blinking at me. “What, Cara? She’s a fucking friend from work, dude. She’s got a girlfriend and is really fucking tired of hearing me whine about you, if we’re being honest.”

  I stare at him, because what? What?

  He barks a laugh and shakes his head. “You’re an idiot, Ethan.”

  “This. . . . this is fake,” I say, “None of it was real!”

  He flinches then, and nods, expression going still and sad. “I know. That’s the worst part. I fucking know it isn’t real. I just—I wish it was.”

  He pushes past me, headed back to the house, and I see Ruby standing there, pale and furious in the moonlight.

  Fuck.

  “How much did you hear?” I ask numbly. Spence doesn’t even bother to look at her, but she runs a hand over his shoulder as he passes and then turns her furious gaze back to me.

  “You fucking idiot,” She spits.

  So, more than enough then.

  “Ruby,” I sigh.

  “Why the fuck would you lie to us?” she demands. “And why would you use Spence to do it? Don’t—fuck, Ethan, you’re in love with him. Why the hell would you do that to him?”

  “He offered,” I shout abruptly, temper snapping.

  “Of course he did, you moron!” Ruby yells back. “He’s fucking in love with you.”

  I freeze and she stares at me, angry and impatient. “You fucking lied to us. And you hurt him.”

  “I panicked,” I say weakly.

  She laughs. It sounds like shattered glass and a decade of anger and hurt. “You always do.”

  I don’t know how to do this, how to handle her anger and Spence’s hurt, and the wounded look I know will be in Mama’s eyes.

  So I do the only thing that makes any sense.

  I run.

  Chapter 14

  I END UP AT A bar on the outskirts of Mason, sliding onto a barstool and ignoring the curious stares as I order three shots of Jack and a beer.

  I fucked up.

  Maybe I was always going to fuck this up. Maybe that was inevitable from the moment I said I had a boyfriend.

  But I didn’t expect this. I can still feel him, moving against me, his breath against my ear as he panted and I don’t know what the hell it was, but I do know I don’t ever want to let him go.

  Except—he ran from me, and I ran from everything.

  I flag the bartender and order another two shots. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna get through the night sober.

  “Ethan Henry.”

  I blink at the dark haired man grinning at me and he laughs, this low rough noise that throws me back twenty years, to summers on the ranch and playing ball in the yard with my cousin.

  “Gunner.”

  He yanks at me, hugging me hard as I go tense. “God, Ethan, it’s been years.”

  I nod agreeably, because of course it’s been years. I left this place and never looked back, and no one ever made me.

  “We’ve missed you around here, Ethan,” he says warmly. I’ve heard that, so many times, and I never listened.

  Not to anyone but Spencer.

  I listen to Gunner rattle on for a while, about Mason and home, about his family that Ruby tells me about sometimes, none of it really sinking in until he goes quiet and watchful next to me.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asks, and I laugh, a brittle noise that burns in my throat.

  “Won’t do any good,” I mutter and he nods, like he gets it. He stays there, at my side in silence, until a hand slides onto the nape of my neck and I twist to see Mama smiling pleasantly at him.

  “Gunner, do you think I could steal my son for a few minutes?” she asks, smiling at him. He nods, and kisses her cheek briefly, before he stands.

  “Take care of yourself, cousin,” Gunner says, quietly, clapping a hand on my shoulder as Mama settles my tab. She smiles at him one las ttime before steering me outside.

  “What are you doin’, Ethan?” she asks softly.

  I shrug and kick at the rocks in the parking lot. “What I’m good at.”

  She hums a little, acknowledging that. We all know that I’ve always been very fucking good at running.

  “Why did you lie to us?” she asks.

  “Because I didn’t want to deal with Ruby and Violet trying to set me up with every Lucy in the damn city,” I say, “I didn’t want someone from town thrown at me like that would coax me to stay home.”

  “Ethan,” she sighs.

  “Don’t,” I snap, “You know damn well Ruby would do it.”

  “Ruby would,” she admits freely, “But she’d also respect it if you told her to stop, instead of dragging the boy you’ve loved for years home and setting him up as your boyfriend. What good came of that? Of lying to us and letting us be happy for you and teasing yourself? Teasing Spencer?”

  “I didn’t do this,” I protest, “Spencer offered!”

  “Of course Spencer offered,” she says, exasperated. “Spence would walk through fire for you, you beautiful idiot.”

  I blink at her and fall back a step. “What—what do you mean?”

  She sighs and smiles at me, and it’s amused and exasperated and so unrelentingly loving that it makes my breath catch in my throat. “It’s why Spence does everything, Ethan. He loves you.”

  She squeezes my hand as if those words didn’t just knock me flat, as if she isn’t rewriting everything I know about myself and my life.

  “He always has, Ethan.”

  ***

  I skip the wedding. Ruby bitches me out royally for it, and I can’t bear the look in Violet’s eyes, the hurt and simmering anger, but Mama calls them off with a quiet, “Leave him be, girls.”

  I know I should be there. I just can’t handle going back, and seeing everyone watching me, knowing. It was a coward, dick move.

  I watch from the ridge, the grass waving against my knees, as my baby sister marries the man she loves.

  And then I leave.

  ***

  I’m not surprised to see Spence in the seat next to mine—logic said he’d be there. But I’m slightly surprised by the way he stares out the window, earbuds in, ignoring me completely as the plane fills and we taxi away from the gate. I watch his hands clench and unclench on the armrest, and I want to pull him close and sing away the tension in his shoulders. I don’t. I open my notebook and scribble aimlessly as we fly home.

  ***

  Cat is waiting when we emerge from the airport, and she watches us, eyes sharp and assessing as Spence crawls into the back of the car, silent, curling against the window and closing his eyes. She gives me a sharp, furious look, and I shake my head as I throw my bag into the trunk. I don’t have an answer for her, or for the fury in her eyes.

  “You broke it, didn’t you?” she demands, and I shrug. I don’t want to nod.

  But I slide into the car and settle my sunglasses over my eyes, tipping my head back.

  I can hear Spence breathing and he feels a million miles away.

  And yeah.

  I broke this.

  I broke us.

  Chapter 15

  LIVING WITH A MAN WHO knows you’re in love with him, and who is steadfastly giving you the silent treatment is a new kind of hell that I’ve never experienced before.

  Frankly, I never want to experience it again.

  He disappears the weekend after we get home, and I don’t press him, throwing myself into work at the bar and Cat’s silent, judging stares.

  And when he comes home, with fresh made food and a shirt I know he stole from his father, it clicks.

  I upset Spence enough that he ran home, to his father, the man who had always been his best refuge.

  That knowledge sits heavy in my gut, even
as Spence smiles more and starts talking again, acting like nothing is wrong.

  Like I didn’t watch him fall apart and taste the sweet heat of his mouth.

  It’s like, after he come back from his dad’s, he’s content to forget that the four days in Mason happened. And it’s tearing me up, every bland, not quite real smile he sends me.

  ***

  “Can we talk?”

  Spence fumbles his drumsticks and glances up at me through his eyelashes.

  “Do we have to?”

  I stare at him and he sighs, shifting away from his drumkit to come sit across from me. “Fine. Talk.”

  “I didn’t go to my dad’s funeral,” I say and his eyes snap up to mine, like of all the things he expected me to say, that was the last on his list. “I left Mason two hours before Mama left for the church.”

  Concern creases his eyes and I sigh. “Dad and I fought. We were at the diner and a guy I had hooked up with came by. It’s—it’s not how I wanted him to find out I was bi. Especially because Trev’s dad had been trying to buy our ranch for years, had been undercutting the prices on our horses and paying their hands higher wages. We talked about it, of course. Trev and I did, when we were together.”

  I pause, thinking back to that day, to the guilt and fury and shame.

  “Trev was using me. Told his parents everything I told him and they were driving us into the ground. Dad put it together as soon as Trevor kissed me. We fought. I didn’t want to think I could be that blind. Looking back, I knew I was, and everyone in Mason knew it. So I bolted, and Dad chased me.”

  “Ethan,” Spence whispers.

  “It was raining. He went off the road about a mile before the Henry House, at that big turn? Rolled three times before the trees stopped him. Coroner said he died on impact.”

  “And you ran.”

  I nod. “And I ran. It was my fault. We were going to lose the ranch and Dad was dead, and it was because I was too stupid to love the right kind of person. Because I’m too fucking scared to face the consequences of my actions.”

  Spencer pushes back from the table, pacing as he runs his hands through his hair. “You actually believe that.”

  “Evidence supports it,” I say numbly.