Page 105 of Ransom
"Yeah."
I took his hand, and he helped me out of the back. The knee didn't want to take the landing. He didn't say anything, but he knew.
The headlights threw both our shadows long across the caliche. Coyote was crouched beside whatever was in the dirt past the rope, talking to it low, like he did with dead things. Rex's last audience, and the worst he could've drawn.
Ransom walked me to the passenger door, helped me in, and shut it behind me. Then he walked around through the headlights and slid into the driver's side. The door closed with a final thump, and the night settled in the cab around us.
"You all right?" he asked.
"That ain't a question I know how to answer right now, cowboy."
Ransom turned his head and looked at me. The dashboard glow caught the line of his jaw. There was blood on his knuckles, dust on his cheek, and the smell of caliche and Rex still on his clothes. The man had killed the man who'd put my daddy in a hole. He'd done it with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the radio dial. I had never wanted anybody as badly as I wanted him in that cab.
I reached across the bench seat and got a fistful of his shirt, and pulled him to me.
The kiss took the wind out of both of us. My ribs lit up, and I didn't care. His hand came up fast and caught the back of my neck. He kissed me back like he'd been holding it since the gift shop. He bit my lip. Not on purpose, I don't think. His teeth caught it, and he made a sound in his throat I hadn't heard from him before, low and hurt-sounding. It landed somewhere south of my belt. The want I'd been carrying since the gallows came up the back of my neck. It went hot.
His other hand found my thigh, and his fingers dug in hard enough to bruise. I wanted that bruise on me before I wanted my next breath.
I held him there by the shirt. If I let go, I was going to come apart. I would not come apart, not yet, not before I'd said it. His hand moved from my thigh to my side. Then he pulled back an inch. His forehead stayed against mine.
"Ranger," he said, voice low and husky.
"Don't stop."
"Your ribs."
"Fuck my ribs."
"Working on it."
I laughed. The laugh hurt. I didn't care about that either.
I pulled back an inch, but kept my fist in his shirt.
"I love you," I said.
His eyes went somewhere behind mine for a second. Then they came back.
"Winston."
"I been working up to it," I said. "I had a whole thing planned. Was gonna wait till the asphalt. Wait till the radio came back in clear." My voice was rougher than I wanted it. "Then I sat in that chair tonight and I figured out I might not get the asphalt. So you're getting it here."
He didn't say anything.
"You don't have to say it back. Not tonight. Not ever, if it ain't there. I just needed you to know."
His hand was still on the back of my neck. His thumb moved against the nape of my neck. He'd touched me there before, in his bed the morning after the flowers. I'd thought then he didn't know he was doing it. I thought now he knew exactly what he was doing.
"I been yours since the shack," he said.
Something in my stomach went cold. Then it went warm.
I let go of his shirt, and he started the engine.
We sat for a minute with the engine running. Outside, the others were finishing what we'd left for them. Coyote was pointing at something, his snake slithering down his arm. Fenix had a shovel and was leaning on it, paying close attention to Coyote while Linc held the flashlight one-handed. Mateo was looking through the scope of his rifle up at the stars and laying on his back in the dirt. They knew the work. They didn't need me for the rest of it.
"Take me home, cowboy," I said.
