Wilder, Winona - Loving Tyler [Coming Out 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (10 page)

“I don’t know. Big homely guy with overalls.”

Tyler
was scared to know the answer, but he had to ask. “Did he have a lazy eye?”

“How’d you know?”

Fuck! They’d found him again. It had been two years with no sign, but now they’d found him. They always found him.

Chapter Eight

There was an uncomfortable silence during breakfast at the diner. He was sure
Tyler
had been happy to see him, but maybe it was only the buzz from the alcohol. Ever since they had sex, his mood seemed to shift. Was it all about sex? Had he gotten his fill for the week?

“I have to head back to the city to get things settled. But if you’re serious about starting something long-term, I’ll come back up and we can talk more seriously about it.”

“No. You’re right, I barely know you. We should head our separate ways.”

Marcus froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Permanently?” Surely
Tyler
hadn’t done a three-sixty in only an hour. He seemed genuinely interested in maintaining their relationship this morning, even getting hostile when Marcus suggested not following him to the next town. Maybe he’d hurt him. Maybe
Tyler
was putting up guards to keep from getting hurt. Marcus felt like an asshole. All he wanted was Tyler. He was just too damn scared to give up everything only to find out
Tyler
tired of him after a month together. He wanted to be sure their relationship was for real before committing himself body and soul.

“We had good times, but it’d never work. City boy, country bumpkin. Personally, I think you could do much better than me.”
Tyler
never looked him in the eye, only making patterns in the eggs he’d barely touched.

“Are you kidding me? I drove all the way down here because I thought we had something special. Was I wrong?” The foundation of his whole world was crumbling. His mind processed the past, present, and future at an alarming rate. If he returned home knowing
Tyler
only thought of him as another number, he’d be crushed. He’d have no hope, nothing to look forward to but his unfulfilling life. Was he too uptight? Not uninhibited enough for the more experienced cowboy?

“I’m a drifter, Marcus. Certain people aren’t meant to change.”

He stood up, his chair scraping along the tiles. “Bullshit!” It was so unlike him to make a scene, to raise his voice, to tread off the beaten path. Now all he could think about was the betrayal threatening to undo him.

“Cavendish Tack and Saddles are probably wondering where their best recruiter is. Can’t say I was disappointed with the fringe benefits, but like I said, I’m not interested in a sponsorship.”
Tyler
took a drink of his Coke, effectively ignoring him.

“You’re a bastard!” He tossed his napkin and stormed out of the diner.
Tyler
didn’t try to stop him, and he didn’t expect as much.

He speed-walked up the side of the road towards his car, undiluted anger making the world blur out of focus. Marcus replayed all his times with
Tyler
over and over in his head—the kisses, the lovemaking, the endearing confessions. How could he be such a poor judge of character? The more distance he put between him and the diner, the more he felt the anger diminish and the despair and hurt take over. He felt small, cheap, and stupid, completely deceived by a cowboy and a world he barely knew.

Marcus wasn’t
Tyler
’s anything, just another fuck for the record book. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the moisture from his eyes and hit the gas, eager to put the miles between him and Tyler.

* * * *

Essa looked like every other town he’d passed through over his countless years on the circuit. It was the same meaningless sequence of events—new town, cheap motel, glory in the ring, meaningless sex. The routine was getting old. Ever since he’d found Marcus, he saw a new world of possibility. Life didn’t have to be black and white, but could be lived in full color. The Italian had brought out the best in
Tyler
, given him the precious gift of his body, and showed him a new reality.

Breaking the other man’s heart, practically hearing it crack down the middle, had been the hardest thing
Tyler
ever had to do. As soon as Marcus told him about the lazy-eyed bastard that had slashed his tires, he knew it was one of his old foster brothers. It had been years since they’d bothered him, found him. Living in the foster home as a teen had been a sadistic entrapment that he’d only been able to escape when he’d turned legal age. It seemed most country folk back then only took kids in for the money, not for their love of children. His foster home hadn’t nurtured his differences, his unique sexuality, but tried to beat it out of him. When that didn’t work, they just beat him. Since his escape, he’d traveled the circuit on his own, making a name for himself.

When news hit his abusers of his success, jealousy and hatred made the blood brothers blind with the need for retaliation. For what, he didn’t know. But he never could understand the mind of a bigot.

He knew it would never end, the vicious attempts to ruin him. They focused their meaningless lives on making
Tyler
’s miserable. Like they’d said in the past,
a faggot doesn’t deserve glory in the ring,
and
he was ruining the respectable tradition of the rodeo.

There was no way he’d subject his sweet Marcus to their hatred. If they knew he loved the city boy, they’d no doubt focus their attention on him in hopes of hurting
Tyler
. He wouldn’t have it. It was better for him to lose Marcus, rather than risk getting him hurt. There was nowhere for him to escape, not with his fame on the circuit. It would be as easy as checking the public event list to know where he’d be next. He was good at keeping invisible, hiding in off-the-radar motels, and moving on as soon as he finished his last event.

Marcus was innocent, tender. He’d never be able to deal with the kind of hatred his foster brothers were capable of dishing out.
Tyler
couldn’t watch over him every minute, and every minute away from him, he’d worry. And it wasn’t just the two brothers out for blood. They’d managed to recruit a group of extremists determined to keep gays out of the ring. If only they knew how many there really were, they’d give up their twisted crusade.

“
Tyler
!” One of his ring buddies greeted him near the registration desk. It took a Herculean effort just to offer a barely there smile.

“Braden. How’s the family?”

“Just setting up tent for the night. You’re welcome to join us for dinner. We caught a good-sized deer just outside of town. It’ll be enough to feed an army.” His friend laughed and clapped him on the back. Normally
Tyler
would revel in his good-natured conversation, but not anymore.

“With the number of kids you have, it should last you at least one meal.”

“You’re right! Macy’s expecting again, wouldn’t you know it.” The redheaded man wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “She’ll be happy if you stopped by for a meal.”

Tyler
slipped out of his friendly hold. “I have a ton to do, but if I have a chance, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Thanks for the offer.”

He roamed off the beaten path, not in the mood to small talk with the usual crowd. It was the same greetings, smiles, and gossip. By nightfall they’d return to their families or bunk buddies,
Tyler
forgotten. For a brief moment in time he belonged, had his own man to share his life with. But as soon as he had the world in his grasp, it was snatched from him. His foster family had stolen everything from him—his innocence, his self-respect, family, security, and now Marcus.

Chapter Nine

“Good work, Marcus. You’re definitely going places.” His supervisor scanned the files of the new account, a satisfied smirk on his face. Marcus had worked his ass off to get Calvin Brackworth to sign with Cavendish. He’d taken him out to dinner, given him front-row seats at a home game, and offered him a competitive commission. He was no Tyler James, but he was a rising young star in the rodeo. The extra work over the past three weeks had helped Marcus live life without dwelling on his aching heart and the memories that were likely all counterfeit.

“Do you still want me to attend the opening of the Smithfield Rodeo next week?”

“With the Brackworth account in the bag, I definitely want you there, Vinetti. We’re doing a big promo push. I want our banners inside the ring where the cameras are aimed. Get some live interviews, endorsements from any of the big names.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Marcus drove home just after sunset, a light rain making the pavement ahead of him appear as a static haze. He hated nights like this, and there’d been many lately. These kinds of nights were made for lovers, for cuddling up on the sofa and watching a good movie. Since that wasn’t his destiny, he’d go home alone to an empty condo, order some takeout if he wanted to eat, and file through his memories as he stared into space. It was the reason he kept busy, and it was better than the quiet reflection that could destroy him easier than a rusty blade. What was
Tyler
doing now? Had he found another lover? Did he ever think of him?

He wanted to search him out and beg for him to love him, but those were only moments of weakness. Marcus didn’t want a man who was with him for convenience, pity, or any superficial reason. He wanted love, the love he
thought
he experienced with
Tyler
. Their lovemaking had allowed him to transcend to another level of consciousness, but it was all a lie, a vicious lie. Fuck, he was a mess.

Marcus unlocked his unit and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. He ignored the ringing phone, knowing it was one of his obnoxious relatives. After flicking on a couple lights, he pulled a travel bag down from the closet in his bedroom. He stuffed random clothes into the bag, not bothering to fold or organize them as was his habit. Nothing seemed to matter, and his anal ways now made him feel foolish, not refined as they once had. Would
Tyler
have wanted him if he was more casual, more nonchalant about the little things in life?

He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off as he approached his dresser. His reflection stared back, a stranger mocking him.
Tyler
had consistently told him how attractive he was, but what good did that do him if he wasn’t good enough to keep?

* * * *

Tyler
dusted off his chaps once he eased up from the dirt floor in the ring. The crowd roared when he waved his Stetson in the air. Another easy victory under his belt. He disguised his wince when he climbed over the fence. His ribs still ached on occasion, but complaints of the body never stopped a cowboy. He had something to prove, to himself and the bastards he knew were tracking his career. He growled under his breath. If it weren’t for his foster brothers he’d have Marcus with him right now. He’d be waiting for him, ready to tend to his wounds. There wasn’t anything he wanted to see more than Marcus’s smiling face. But it was only a memory that became a little more blurry each day that passed. He didn’t even have a picture to remember him by.

As he trudged his way back to his motel room to change, he heard an all too familiar voice. Jet Cartwright, his old lover. He turned towards the voice and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Still riding, I see.” Jet closed the distance between them, his young blond in tow. He couldn’t fault the older man for his choice. James Matthews was a regular piece of sunshine, thick-muscled with that boy-next-door charm. It still didn’t sit right with
Tyler
to be the unchosen one, forgotten and dismissed.

“That’s what I do. I didn’t see you on the riding log.”

“We’re ranchers now. James gets too nervous when I ride, so I’ve stopped altogether.” Jet turned and winked at the blond.

“Ain’t that just dandy.”

“I heard word of you spending some time with a new fella back in Essa.” Why did Jet have to sound so genuinely concerned? It brought his emotions to the surface and made him feel worse than shit when Jet stood there with his boy toy while he was alone. He’d told Jet things he’d never told another living soul, and he trusted him to keep those secrets, even now. But things weren’t the same as they’d once been. Jet was a family man now, and
Tyler
was heartbroken, more messed up than he had been to start with.