Page 41 of Deviant
Is he truly that delusional?
I find Dawson exactly where I knew he’d be—leaning against the hood of the truck with his arms crossed. He takes one look at me coming out of the tree line and something moves across his expression that he puts away just as fast.
He doesn’t ask.
He just pushes off the hood and goes around to the driver’s side and gets in.
I get in the passenger side, close the door, and stare straight ahead at the dark field, the distant firelight, and the shapes of people who have no idea what just happened thirty yards into those trees.
Dawson starts the engine.
We’re halfway down the dirt road before he speaks.
“You good?”
I think about that—really think about it—which is a mistake, because thinking about it means thinking aboutallof it.
“No, but I will be.”
Dawson nods once.
I ride the rest of the way home with my elbow on the door and my hand over my mouth and the window cracked, letting the night air in, trying to cool something that isn’t going to cool. Somewhere in the back of my skull, Colt’s voice is on a loop, saying the one thing I can’t argue with.
“Now you know what it feels like when someone actually makes your dick throb.”
I’ve known a lot of things in my life. I’ve known this ranch and this land and exactly who I was supposed to be. I’ve known hard work and early mornings and the weight of a name that means something in this town.
I have never known what it feels like to have something cut through all of it—the performance and the duty and the carefully managed version of myself I hand to everyone—and find something underneath that is just … mine. Raw and inconvenient and completely outside the life I built to avoid exactly this.
I press the back of my hand to my mouth in the dark cab of my brother’s truck and I don’t know what to do with that.
I don’t know what to do with any of it.
COLTON
I’m going to keel over and fucking die.
Dandee huffs at me, letting out a smallmooas she nudges my hand so I will give her scratches, and the sound does nothing to help the throbbing pain in my temples.
Cash chuckles as he helps me push the herd toward the gate before I can call it a day. Working in silence, I give Dandee a couple scratches so she’ll get on with her herd.
“I can’t believe the heifer likes you. She’s picky as hell,” Cash says, watching us.
I roll my eyes. “Dandee,” I spit out before I can think about it. “You meanDandeedoesn’t like your prickly cactus of a brother? That’s not picky, that’s basically survival instincts.”
“Nah, she doesn’t like me or Dawson either,” he says, not taking the bait. “Wait…Did you name the fucking cow?”
He’s avoided talking about Rhett all day, hiding behind “he’s busy,” like that’s supposed to be enough. Like he’s just allowed to disappear with no explanation after what we did last night. Running from anything that could make him feel something outside of what he’s used to.
“She deserved a name, and she reminds me of a cute dandelion you’d find in the fields. So,Dandee.” A flicker ofsurprise passes before I fix my face. “But we aren’t skipping that part about Dawson…All animals like Dawson.” From everything I’ve seen, Dawson is the farm animal whisperer—loving them as if they’re his kids.
“I know, that’s what drives him crazy. She’s immune to his charm.”
We follow the herd, closing the gate behind us, and make our way back up to the house so that I can rinse off before heading home when we see Tierney on the front porch.
“Hey, boys! Hard day?” She smiles, giving us both a look that suggests she can see through the facade and that we’re clearly way too hungover for work today.
Cash rolls his eyes, and I nod, both of us chiming in at the same time. “No, ma’am.”
