Page 67 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“You come here a lot?” he managed to say as he sat on the biggest boulder. Flat-topped, with an edge you could dangle your legs over. “You seem to know it well.”

“Walter and I used to,” I said. “He was good to me.” That slipped out. I seldom spoke about how I felt about Walter, though Jesse had mentioned my feelings had been obvious to one and all, especially after the funeral.

It was a lot cooler in the shade. I sat on a nearby boulder and watched as Dalton’s shoulders gradually came down. A weight easing.

This was a lovely spot that I seldom came to, even if the memories were all good. But Dalton seemed to need what it could offer, so I shared it with him.

Later, after he left, I could tie all my memories of us together and bury them right here, next to the bridge. And then never come back here. Ever.

“It’s not your fault,” he said into the cool air and river-rush silence. “What I told Lucas was the truth; there have been rumors of layoffs for a while. I just happened to get in his way today. And, like I said, you came riding up like the cavalry to protect me, and no one’s ever done that for me before. And it’s not like I liked working there, anyway.” He turned his head to look at me, skin dappled with sunlight and shadow. “But do youknow what it’s like to build something and have it snatched away like that?”

“No.” I didn’t add that I’d never had anything that felt permanent. That I had built. That would drive me to despair if it were to be taken away from me.

Until now.

“I could help you,” I said, desperate to make sure he was okay. “I meant what I said. Get you set up in Scottsbluff. Help you with the barn. The pump. I’ve got strong shoulders. Strong hands. For the work.”

After that, I’d come back, tuck my memories away, and get on with my solitary life. Which was a better life than I’d imagined, back when I was growing up in those unloving homes.

“You’d do that, wouldn’t you.” A gust of wind moved branches and shadows, letting me see Dalton’s expression, serious and utterly still. “Would you do that for me? Come up to do a bunch of backbreaking work that’s of no benefit to you?”

“It’d helpyou,” I said. “If that’s what you want, I’d do it.”

He was silent for a good long moment. Only the sound of the river could be heard. Far off, an engine being started. Someone calling. Leaves dancing overhead. Pine boughs brushing, making ashhhhhsound, like a whisper. Many whispers gathered together, flinging themselves upon the wind.

Then he got up. Without a word, he stood up on his boulder and stepped over to mine. Mine was smaller and slanted, so if he took a step wrong, he was going to fall, and it wouldn’t be pretty. I reached out for his hands so I could help him sit next to me.

It’d be crowded, but that would be fine by me. Except he didn’t seem to want to sit on cold stone, preferring, as I could plainly see, to sit on my lap instead. Which was also fine by me.

He bowed his head and tucked himself against me, beneath my chin, inside the circle of my arms. And I held him, thinking of how Walter had told me, perhaps more than once, that only astrong man knows when to ask for help and then does that very thing.

I had never been as strong as Dalton was in that moment.

He was a man fully grown, and he’d figure out what he had to do, and then he’d do it. In the meantime, I’d hold him for as long as he needed. As long as possible.

I kissed the top of his head and let the silence of the shadows, the soft rush of the river, wash over us. It was a good place, full of good memories, and Dalton needed every bit of the energy it had to give.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Dalton said. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” He hitched a breath as he clasped my forearm. “Or this place.”

We breathed together for a little while, and then he said, “Lucas once told me that this was wild country. That it would sink its teeth into me and never let go.”

He tipped his head back to look at me, brushing his jaw along mine. A gesture of connection.

“I think it has,” he said. “I thinkyouhave. But.” He paused to lick his lips. “Will you still care for me if I leave? Forgive me for being so fucking indecisive? Will you forgive me if I hurt you?”

I wanted to kiss him, to bring pleasure to the surface rather than discuss a line in the sand about whether he would go or stay.

He shifted so he was between my thighs, one booted foot hanging off the boulder. His chest pressed to mine, and I held him tighter so he wouldn’t fall. His arms went around my neck. That’s when I got to kiss him. Sweet and deep and fast.

“Tell me you forgive me,” he whispered against my mouth.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I whispered back.

Our voices were muted in the hush of the shadows, the rush of the creek. The light, green-scented breeze moving around uslike a cloak. If I never had to leave that moment, I’d be the happiest man on earth.

Chapter 21

Dalton