They rode in the truck after fixing the heat pump that’d frozen overnight in the stock tank in the north pasture and Trevor was brooding.
Edgard preferred moody Trevor to standoffish Trevor. He’d been involved with Trevor long enough to know the events of last night were not a topic for discussion. He knew better than to offer Trevor a show of physical comfort.
That’d been another issue between them, Edgard’s need for casual affection and Trevor’s refusal to give it to him outside the bedroom. Edgard hadn’t been looking for deep kisses, or walking arm in arm as they’d sauntered down the sidewalk, just an occasional touch when they were alone.
It’d taken him a year to realize the only time they’d truly been alone were those nights on the road after they’d checked into a motel. Colby, while not necessarily homophobic, only agreed to stay on—after he’d literally caught them with their pants down—if they kept their relationship strictly professional in front of him. At all times.
Edgard also knew Trevor’s reluctance to even simply hold Edgard’s hand was practical: if they became accustomed to touching in semi-private spaces such as the truck, or the horse trailer when they were getting ready to compete, it’d be easy to slip up and touch in public.
So rather than strike a balance, Trevor instituted a strict “hands off” policy. A policy Edgard hated and mocked at every opportunity, but it was a policy Trevor didn’t bend on.
Trevor’s private affection had been worth it.
For a while anyway.
Dwight Yoakam droning in the background didn’t mask the edgy stillness hanging in the air. Edgard took a sip of his coffee as Trevor hit a bump and warm liquid sloshed everywhere. He muttered and stripped off his leather glove with his teeth, mopping up the spot on his jeans.
“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s okay.” He drained the rest and shoved the cup in the cup holder. “Been drinking coffee since the crack of nothin’ anyway. Probably had enough.”
Trevor shot him a look. “Why’d you get up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Edgard didn’t elaborate.
It surprised him when Trevor admitted, “I wasn’t sleepin’ either. I heard you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Now I’m thinkin’ if I would’ve gotten up when you did maybe we coulda saved that damn horse.”
Edgard frowned. “But you told Chassie—”
“I told Chassie what she needed to hear so she didn’t feel guilty,” Trevor said irritably. “If anyone’s gonna be takin’ on the brunt of the guilt around here, it’s gonna be me, not her.”
“Which is noble, Trev, but you didn’t have to be so cruel to her.”
“You tellin’ me how to handle my wife, Ed?”
“No. I’m telling you after what she’s been through in the last couple of days you should’ve expected she’d be an emotional train wreck. You should’ve been more sympathetic to her losing the horse, not less.” Edgard mentally braced himself for Trevor’s temper to explode.
But it didn’t, he just nodded. “I know. Even as that mean shit was runnin’ out of my mouth like I’d developed a case of scour, I couldn’t stop it.” Trevor hit the brakes and threw the truck in park. His hands gripped the steering wheel below where he’d placed his forehead. “Ah f**k. I can’t believe what a prick I am sometimes.”
Trevor’s shoulders rose and fell quickly. Was Trevor crying? Or hyperventilating?
Either way, Trevor wouldn’t accept his comfort, so Edgard stayed immobile, aching for the chance to pacify the man in mind or body. To ease him in some way, because seeing Trevor hurting was still like a knife in his gut.
Finally, Trevor sighed. “I never wanna be like him. Never.”
“Be like who?” Edgard asked, even when he knew.
“Like my father.”
Edgard didn’t offer him any false words of comfort.
“It scares the hell out of me. Chassie don’t know what a bastard my dad was. Still is.
I didn’t tell her about some of the shit he’d pulled because I…goddammit, I worried she wouldn’t marry me because she’d be afraid I’d turn out like him.
“Now I can’t tell her because I’m afraid with all the other stuff that’s happened, she’ll kick me to the fence. Seems I can’t tell her nothin’ without fear of losin’ her.” His short bark of laughter rivaled the cold for bitterness. “I suck at this spillin’ my guts stuff.
I always have. You know that probably better’n anyone.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a lousy excuse. It always has been.”
Trevor slowly lifted his head and gave Edgard an incredulous look. “How is that smartass answer supposed to help me?”
“Oh, so now you want my help?”
“Well yeah, since it’s obvious I f**ked up and it’s obvious you think you know how to fix it.”
“Fine.” Edgard pointed to the cell phone clipped on the dash. “Call her. Say, ‘Baby, I’m sorry I was an ass**le. I love you’, but for Christsake don’t qualify it.”
“Qualify it, meanin’ what?”
“Don’t tack on, ‘I was an ass**le because I’m under stress’, just apologize. Period.”
They stared at each other.
“That’s it?”
“Sometimes the smallest gestures have the biggest impact.”
“Can’t be that easy,” Trevor muttered, snatching the phone. He faced out the driver’s side window but didn’t lower his voice.
“Hey, Chass. No. Nothin’s wrong. I just wanted to say…I’m sorry. You know, for earlier today. In the barn. I was a jerk.” When Trevor started to tack on, “Because…”
Edgard reached over and smacked him on the arm. Trevor whirled back around. “Jesus, Mancuso. What the f**k?”
Edgard shook his head and mouthed, “No excuses.”
Still glaring at Edgard, Trevor said, “No, nothin’ happened. Ed spilled his coffee all over himself. Yeah. He’s fine, even when he’s graceful as a bear.” Trevor mouthed,
“Asshole,” at Edgard. Pause. “Sure. Sounds good. We’ll be home for lunch in a bit. Love you too, baby.”
After he snapped the phone shut, he stabbed the antennae at Edgard and warned,
“You ain’t allowed to gloat, amigo.”