The Trouble With Cowboys Jodi Payne

& Ba Tortuga
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THE TROUBLE WITH COWBOYS
SIN DEEP
BOOK 2

JODI PAYNE
BA TORTUGA
 CONTENTS
The Sin Deep Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Want More BA & Jodi?
Afterword
About Jodi
About BA
Available from Jodi & BA
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

The Trouble with Cowboys

Copyright © 2024 by Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga

Edited by LC Hinson

Cover illustration by AJ Corza

http://www.seeingstatic.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

ISBN: 978-1-963644-00-5

All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law,
subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. No eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Tygerseye Publishing, LLC,
www.tygerseyepublishing.com

Electronic edition published by Tygerseye Publishing, LLC, February 2024

Printed in the USA
 The Sin Deep Series
Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga

Doms and Subs. Cowboys and city boys. Opposites attract, hurt-comfort, and other romance tropes.
The Sin Deep Series is a collection of standalone novels set in The Cowboy and the Dom Universe where Doms find their subs
and subs discover themselves and a new kind of freedom.
For those of you who have read The Cowboy and the Dom series, you’ll find cameos of familiar characters Thomas and Sam
and others who have a membership at the club the call home.

Find the Sin Deep Series here!

Sin Deep
The Trouble with Cowboys
As always, to our wives.
 1

“C omeKacey
on, man. Answer your fucking phone.”
Lowe tried hard to know certain shit—one, where his boots were, two, where his phone was, and three,
where he was going to be able to sleep in a world that had little to no use for a broke-dick bullrider. He had two out of
three.
Now Kacey needed a couch to surf.
Sam O’Reilly would let him stay, have a little fun, and not ask too many questions about the bruises, why he was in New
York, and what the hell he was going to do next.
“’lo?” O’Reilly sounded drunk. “Who’s this?”
“Kacey. How you been?” He could handle drunk.
“Fine as frog hair. Where the hell are you?”
“Um… Times Square, I think. I’m pretty sure.” The place was so lit up it felt like daytime.
“Like in the city?”
“Well, I am totally in a city. The New York one.” The last ride was a flower delivery dude. He’d been cool, and they’d
shared a spliff.
“What? When? Why? How?”
That was a lot of questions in a row. Sam hadn’t changed a bit. “In New York. Now. Because of life and things, and really
fucking slow?”
“Wait. Hang on.” The music in the background faded away, and Sam got back on the line with more questions. “Okay. Did
you get hurt? How did you get here? Where are you staying?”
He couldn’t answer the first two questions without opening a can of worms. “I was sorta hoping you’d have a couch I could
use for a day or two while I’m visiting.”
Or until he got his bell unrung.
Sam O’Reilly had been his mentor on the arena floor when he was a junior, and the man had been fun to hang with the few
times they’d been together on the circuit.
“Yeah, of course. Not many of us with couches up here, huh?” He heard street noises as Sam put him on speaker. “I’m
texting you the address. We’re not home… uh… I’ll just see if I can convince Mister—Thomas—to make it an early night.”
“Is it a bad time? I can wait ’til tomorrow, dude.” He could walk around for hours, no problem. He had enough cash to eat
for damn near a year, if he was careful, and he would do near anything to win a bet, so…
“Right. Just stay on the street tonight, and I’ll see you after breakfast.” Sam snorted. “Get your ass over there. Tell the
doorman you’re a friend of mine, and he’ll let you wait in the lobby. We’ll be there in a little bit.”
“You sure, man? I know this is a surprise.”
“Shut up. See you in an hour, give or take.”
Oh, thank God. Kacey sucked in a deep breath. “Thanks, man. Just a day or two.”
“Yeah, while you’re in town.”
Okay. He had himself a place to stay. If he remembered right, Sam liked a bar so he might get to have some fun too, while
he figured out what to do next. He looked at the text—he could walk forty blocks in an hour, right?
If not, he’d text and say he was running late. He was good at that.
He set his GPS and started beating feet.
Lord have mercy this place was wild. Maybe a guy could have some fun here…
He found the address and slowed down as he moved up the block. The building was big. And tall. Really fucking tall.
There was a big white awning held up by gold posts and a dude in a jacket and hat hanging out near the front door and watching
him as he got closer.
“Move on,” the guy said in a deep voice as he slowed down even more.
“I got me an invitation from a friend.” He wasn’t going nowhere. “Sam O’Reilly. You know him?”
“Mhm.” The guy nodded. “You’re friends?”
He arched one eyebrow, trying hard not to be a bitch. “Yessir. We rode together in Texas, couple times in Vegas.”
“Understood. What’s your name?”
“Kacey Lowe.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lowe. Mr. O’Reilly isn’t at home. You can wait inside if it’s cold out here for you.”
“That would rock. Thank you. It’s damn chilly.” He held out one hand to shake, but the dude stopped before grabbing his
fingers.
Oh. Right.
They were a little tore up from the last fight, and that one finger was…wonky.
“You’re definitely a friend of Sam’s.” They clasped hands gently, the door guy shaking his head.
“Yessir. Since I was a teenager, you know? He’s wild as anything.” And a great drinking buddy. “I’m looking forward to
hanging with him.”
“Mm. Wild.” The guy waved an arm and the doors slid open. “There’s a pot of coffee behind the desk.”
“Thank you, sir. I do appreciate it.” He headed in and grabbed a cup of coffee, heavy on the sugar and creamer.
Calories were good. They kept a man warm.
He hadn’t gotten one sip down before Sam came through the door, followed by a tall, handsome, very… hot…uh. Had he
mentioned tall?
“Kacey.” Sam came right to him with a smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Sam.” Damn, Sam looked so good. Healthy. Strong. Almost like a grown-up. Weird. “I missed your skanky ass, man.”
“Hey now, I’ve cleaned it up a little since you saw me last.” Sam gave him a hug, and he was proud of himself for not
wincing. “You look good.”
“You appear to have been in a fight,” Mr. Handsome said. Was that a growl?
Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Kacey, this is Thomas.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. Again. “And I swear, I haven’t been in a fight.”
He’d been in a few dozen.
Thomas took his hand, but not to shake it. He looked at it critically, turned it palm-side up and back again, then sighed.
“You need to get some ice on that. I think I might have a splint for the finger. Come on upstairs.”
“Dude, seriously? What the hell happened?” Sam grinned at him. “Tell me it was fun, at least?”
“I wish I could, cowboy.”
Thomas led them to the elevator, and when the big, shiny doors opened, they all got on. Thomas was… not really staring
but looking him over. It was weird, but it wasn’t creepy.
Sam nodded to him and rested a hand on his arm. “I’ll make us coffee.”
Oh god, don’t leave me with him. “I’ll help.”
“It’s no pr⁠—”
“I’ll so help.” Helping, helping, la la la.
“Let him help.” Why did it feel like Thomas could see right into his soul? God, that was unnerving.
“So… this is your… roommate?” He didn’t read like a roommate. More like a grumpy fuckbuddy. Possibly a sugar daddy.
Dude.
Dude.
Did Sam have a sugar daddy? He had a decent belly, but he was a little un-twinkly and sparkly. In Vegas, boys like that had
glitter.
Thomas laughed as they stepped off the elevator but didn’t answer the question. “I thought you said he was a good friend,
Sam?”
“He is. He’s a rodeo buddy. He was a junior rider that I mentored.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Thomas here, he’s my
lover. My guy. My… person, huh? If you’re not cool with that…”
“Dude. I know you’re into dick. I just didn’t know you were into…” Big growly dudes with biker boots and a fancy
apartment. “Permanent guys.”
 “Yes, he’s permanently into my dick.” Thomas was still chuckling as he opened the apartment door.
“Kinky,” he whispered.
Sam started chuckling, the sound started soft and built.
And built.
And built.
Thomas leaned close to Sam and kissed his forehead. “I’m not touching that.”
Sam led him toward an open kitchen, and Thomas went the other way down a long hall.
“Lord, he’s a biggun. Pretty, though.” That seemed the most polite.
“He’s amazing. I’ve never been happier.” Sam started making coffee. “What the fuck happened to you? And don’t say
nothing, because I’m neither blind nor stupid.”
“Did you just say ‘nor’?”
“Neither… nor…” Sam shot him a look. “I asked you a question.”
“It’s a long story, but the short version is, got dumped, got outed, lost my sponsors, got reminded that I ain’t supposed to be
in Texas.” Hell of a short version.
Sam puffed out a breath and went back to making coffee. “I’ve heard that story before. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just been traveling. Seeing stuff. Wandering. I looked you up—sorry about your brother, by the way.”
Sam nodded, took a deep breath. “Thanks. It was tough, but we caught the son of a bitch.”
“That’s good. I hope he got what he deserved.”
“Neosporin, band-aids, ice pack, Tylenol, and one finger splint.” Thomas appeared and set everything down on the counter
one by one, then held out a hand palm-up. “Will you let me see?”
Oh, how decent was that? Pretty damned, if you asked him. He held up one of his hands. They hurt pretty good, and that one
finger needed something to encourage it not to fall off.
He wasn’t a damn roper, after all.
“Hm. I’ll be careful.” For the next few minutes, Thomas gently cleaned his hands up with damp cotton balls and covered
the one bad cut with the cream and a band-aid. Thomas’s hands were warm, and those fingers moved over his skin like… like
he cared.
And the man never growled once.
Okay, weird. Again. “Thanks. Seriously. I’ll slam the finger in the splint, if it grosses you out.”
It grossed him out some, but it was easier to just do it, right?
“Pfft.” Thomas shook his head. “I have a brother who has broken this finger three times, and several others more than once.
Fists and walls don’t mix well.” There was a blinding light, and he was dizzy for a few seconds, and when he could see again,
Thomas was wrapping tape around the splint to keep it in place.
“Whiskey?” Sam asked, and he groaned.
“Fuck me yes.” All the whiskey.
“Rock on.”
“You didn’t faint, and you didn’t lose your balance. You’re like my Sam.” He wasn’t sure how to read Thomas’s smile, but
the man rested his hand on the counter and gave it a gentle pat. It was weirdly… what? Parental? Something. “All good.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate this. I’ll be on my way in a day or two. I just wanted to get a face-to-face with Sam-I-Am.”
Sam rolled his eyes, shook his head. “I swear to God, Kacey. You carry trouble like a landed bass.”
“I sure do try, yessir.”
Thomas took Sam by the chin and kissed him. “I’ll leave you two to talk, sweetheart. Good night.”
“See you in a bit, Mister.” Sam poured two coffees, calm as all get out. “Are the hands the worst of it?”
“Nah.” No, the worst of it was in his soul, and what could he do about that now? He’d thought Mitch and him, they’d had
something workable. Something nice, even, but when they’d been caught, Mitch had said he wasn’t willing. He’d never forced
no one to do anything. Not ever.
But that didn’t matter, and that wasn’t something he was ever gonna talk about. That secret belonged to him.
Sam gave him a knowing smile, which didn’t hurt so bad, coming from him. “I didn’t reckon. The core shots are the ones
that are the worst. Come on. Let’s sit and bullshit a minute.”
Core shots. He hated that Sam seemed to know something he didn’t want to tell.
“That I can do. I’m full of bullshit.” His laugh didn’t make that funny like it should have.
“We all are. Sometimes, we find the thing that we need to empty us out.”
That was damn near deep, and he didn’t believe it for a second. “Whatcha doing with yourself these days, buddy?”
Sam shrugged, cheeks pinking. “Believe it or not, I got my damn PhD. I teach. I write books…”
“Cool, man. That’s… wild.” Kacey felt himself shrink inside. Sam O’Reilly had retired, become a professor, wrote books.
He wasn’t broke dick, but he had a couple thousand bucks, his boots, his phone, and a single silver buckle. Fuck, he needed to
find another place to go.
 “Totally is. How’d you end up here?”
Kacey curated what he wanted to tell Sam, and he finally settled on, “I was in Columbus, and the guys were heading west,
so I came over. I was on a bus, googling, and happened on your name. Thought if I came here, I’d look your happy ass up.”
Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, then looked at him. “Why not go home?” When he didn’t answer, Sam added, “Rough
weather?”
“Yeah. My folks—” He waved one hand, because he didn’t know what say. He watched the coffee wave in his cup, back
and forth, and finally words just fell out of his lips. “I fucked up, Sam. Bad. There ain’t no coming home from that.”
Sam set his cup down. “Shit, Kace. Are you in trouble? We know people…”
He shook his head, even as he desperately wanted to nod. “No. No, I ain’t here to fuck your life. I just need a day or two to
rest, yeah? Then I’ll go traveling again.”
“I’m telling you we can help. You rest, get your head right, but you think about it.”
“Thanks for answering your phone.” He needed a friend, a minute to breathe.
“Thanks for trusting me, man. Drink your coffee and breathe. You’re safe here.” Sam winked at him. “Thomas is way more
badass than he looks.”
“Is he a teacher too?” Kacey was betting on librarian more than teacher.
“No, no. He’s the head curator for the Metropolitan Museum.” Sam sounded proud.
“Damn.” Sam had just left his whole world behind like dust. “Good on y’all.”
He didn’t even know what the hell he was going to do to make money. He needed to google canned rodeos.
Mechanical bull competitions.
Daredevil shows.
“You’ll figure it out. I was lost when I got here, and I couldn’t go back home. This is home now.”
“I’m tickled shitless for you. You got work tomorrow?” You want to go find some trouble with an old friend?
“I’m not teaching. I can skip a day of writing to hang, sure.” Sam tilted his head, lips twitching. “After all, it is Friday…”
“Yeah? No shit? Surely we can find ourselves something to do.”
 2

KYLE
I’m so sorry, Sir.

W ell, River couldn’t really be mad; Kyle had texted him as soon as the sub had stopped puking. He texted back quickly so
the boy wouldn’t worry.
RIVER
Get some rest, boy. There will be other nights.
KYLE
Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.

He sat himself down on a barstool. “Whiskey, please, Deacon.”

“Not playing tonight, Master McIntyre?”
“Not tonight. I’m just going to sniff this and watch.” He thought about actually drinking it this time; he always thought about
it when he got stood up, but he knew himself too well. He was not pouting. This was just… a simple course correction. He
didn’t mind when plans changed.
He was the king of “roll with it.”
Right.
His friends would laugh if he said that out loud.
“Watching is also good.” A whiskey landed on the bar. “There you go.”
“Good boy.”
“I try!” Deacon grinned at him. Deacon was a sweetheart, absolutely the most easygoing bartender in history, happy to
serve and listen, help out and keep things working.
And completely unavailable, which made him easy to talk to.
“Hello, River.”
“Hey, Thomas.” He started to slide off his stool, but Thomas stopped him.
“No, sit. I’ll join you.”
“What? Why? Are you on your own? Where’s Sam?” Thomas was rarely here without his boy.
One of Thomas’s eyebrows lifted, and man, someone was going to be in trouble tonight, that was clear as crystal. “He had
a friend come into town unexpectedly.”
“A friend.” He took a sniff of his whiskey and thought about that. A friend Thomas wouldn’t care about. A cowboy friend…
“Another can-I-crash-on-your-couch type?”
“That would be the type. All hat and no job.”
“Deacon, Thomas needs his Fireball.”
“On it, Sir!”
“You’re very thoughtful, not to mention very right. This young man is on a very volatile road.”
“Volatile. So… what does that mean? Is he a drinker? Is he into something dangerous?”
 Deacon set the shot down, and Thomas swallowed it back, then tapped the glass for another. Thomas put his fingers on the
second shot but didn’t pick it up.
“He’d been in a fight, or several fights, when he showed up. He took Sam out drinking again last night. That’s two in a
row.”
“Sam knows his limits.” He was a good boy.
“Sam is a Texan.” Thomas said that like it was a curse and a fascination.
“Hm. I get your point.” He shrugged. “This kid is a Texan too?” He assumed it was a kid, or a kid compared to them
anyway; Sam seemed to know a lot of them.
“I think so. He’s not terribly forthcoming with information. I’ve managed to ascertain that he is a bullrider. Or was.”
Sam had ridden something too. Bulls? Horses? He couldn’t remember. Either way, it was another high-adrenaline situation.
“Boys.”
“Yes, and this one keeps daring my boy into activities with greater and greater levels of risk.” Thomas rolled his eyes, the
sarcasm thick. “If he doesn’t stop, eventually my brother-in-law will get involved, and I try never to involve Bowie.”
“Bowie… he’s the one down on the Gulf? The big guy?” He’d never met Bowie; he’d only heard stories from Sam. Bowie
didn’t seem the type to appreciate the club.
“He is. He’s Sam’s big brother. He’s Angel’s man. They run a number of rental homes on the beach.”
“Sam’s smart. Or, if he’s not, that’s what he has you for.” He wasn’t sure what was worse, having that level of
responsibility for someone, or having the occasional night alone on a barstool. “Maybe it’s time to throw the cowboy kid out.”
“Yes, although my boy is going to make me pay for that for a month.”
River could see that. Sam was a brilliant academic and could plan trouble while managing to stay within the rules.
“I’m glad I don’t have that to contend with. Although my plans fell through tonight. I’m not sure which is better.”
“I’m fairly su—” Thomas’s phone rang, and he frowned. “Excuse me.”
“Of course.” That was a heck of a frown. He picked up his whiskey and breathed it in, then stared at it studiously so it
didn’t appear he was eavesdropping.
“Hey, Mike. What’s—you have who in your office? Wait. Hang on.” Thomas looked at him. “That fucking kid.”
Whoa. Thomas looked like he was ready to tear that little cowboy’s head off, and he was only one minute into the
conversation. “What can I do?”
Thomas sighed, waved at him, and put the phone on speaker as they headed out to the street.
“—kneeling, and I heard Sammy trying to stop him, but things were already spiraling out-of-control. This kid has a death
wish.”
Whoa.
Mike owned a biker bar that regularly hosted fight nights. Out-of-control was a regular occurrence over there. It had to be
pretty bad for Mike to say the kid had a death wish. Thomas clearly needed some backup.
He didn’t have plans.
“Is Sam okay? I’ll get a cab.” He headed for the curb and stuck an arm out.
“Sammy’s fine. A little bruised and a lot shaken, but he’s fine.” Mike’s chuckle sounded wry. “I haven’t seen that temper in
a long time. When he gets wound up, he’s explosive.”
Thomas’s face was a thundercloud. “I may have to spend the next week reminding him who he belongs to.”
“Come on, Thomas. Hang up. Let’s get in the cab.” Thomas needed a minute to breathe before he saw those boys.
“I’ve got them, Thomas. They’re not going anywhere.” Mike’s tone was somewhere between amused and deadly.
“They most certainly are not.” Thomas pushed his phone in his pocket. “Apparently there were some words thrown about
who was tougher, bikers or cowboys, and there was a melee.”
They climbed into the cab, and River shut the door. Thomas gave the driver the address. “Is your boy usually spoiling for a
fight?”
“No. Not my Sam. Not anymore.” Thomas was very sure.
But he used to. Once scrappy, always scrappy. He kept his mouth shut on that point. “He’s okay. That’s what matters. And
you haven’t heard his side of the story yet. Or his friend’s for that matter. Something happened, so let’s wait and see what they
tell you.”
“His side of the story will go, ‘Mister, I had to help him. He’s my friend.’” Thomas didn’t sound as if he doubted that at all.
“All right. Then you have a kid with a problem on your hands.”
“Not my hands.” Thomas shook his head. “Not when Sam needs me. And my boy is going to need me.”
“Well… let’s see what we see.” He couldn’t see Thomas throwing the guy out on the street, not really, and not if he was
hurt. As Doms, they had more responsibility than most. But he understood priorities. God, what a mess.
The cab pulled up, and Thomas was halfway to the bar before he’d finished paying. He hurried to catch up.
The bar was a true dive, and the people that wandered in and out were loud and rowdy, smacking one another. Honestly, he
could not imagine Thomas in this milieu.
 At all.
But Thomas marched in like he knew where he was going and had obviously been here many times before. He was tough to
follow as he cut through the crowd on a mission, but River kept up the best he could.
“Hey, Thomas, I’ll tell him you’re here.” A woman behind the bar picked up a phone and Thomas gave her a wave.
“Thanks, Darla.”
Wow. Thomas must come here a lot.
He was mulling that over as they rounded the end of the bar and headed down a narrow hall.
“What is this?”
“There’s a more private place downstairs. That’s where they’ll have the boys.”
Sure enough, at the bottom of a short flight of stairs Thomas brandished a card and waved it in front of a security block and
a heavy door opened. This room was quiet, with soft lighting, and big, upholstered chairs by a low table. Across the room
beside a wall of heavy curtains were two boys kneeling with their heads down. Sam’s hands were in his lap, and the other
kid’s were behind his back.
An enormous man he assumed was Mike stood as they walked in.
“Thomas.” Mike shook Thomas’s hand and looked at him.
“River.”
“Pleased. Sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but I’m glad Thomas isn’t alone.”
He nodded, and they shook hands. “I thought he could use some backup.”
“Would you like to come sit in my of⁠—”
“Okay, I have had enough! Sam, what the hell is going on here?” There was a mix of panic and fury and disbelief in the
man’s drawl, and those hazel eyes flashed with lightning.
At least what he could see of them.
This kid was a mass of bruises, and he was all lean muscle, arms wiry and covered with ink.
“You will not speak again unless one of us speaks to you, Kacey. You thought those bikers were trouble? I’m more trouble
than all of them when I’m angry.” Thomas went to Sam and stood so close his knees nearly touched Sam’s bowed forehead.
“What do I need to know, boy?”
“I said no, Mister.” Sam leaned toward Thomas, a rough chuckle sounding. “I even said revolver, but no one understood, so
I had to have his back. Things got out of hand. I’m sorry.”
Remarkably, Sam started to relax, like Thomas’s presence made things better even if he was in trouble. Such a sweet boy;
that trust was enviable.
But Kacey tensed up, and the muscle in the kid’s jaw tightened. “This is bullshit.” The kid started to stand, and Thomas
moved like lightning, grabbing the back of Kacey’s neck, pushing it to the floor and smacking Kacey’s upturned ass like a bad
puppy.
“I said quiet, boy.”
Kacey’s entire body began to tense, tightening like a spring that was being wound impossibly far, but he didn’t say another
word.
Interesting.
Sam shivered, and that confusion was hard to see, but the way that Sam kept still, trusted in his Dom? That was fine, and
his respect for Thomas rose higher.
“River…”
He knew instantly what Thomas needed. “Sure. I got him.” He moved to Kacey and stood beside the boy while Thomas
bent and spoke softly to Sam.
“No one understood, but I do,” Thomas whispered. “How badly are you hurt?”
He tried not to listen, even Mike slipped out of the room, so he focused on the kid—on Kacey—who looked pretty bad off.
Somewhere under the blood and the bruises and the ink was a boy in trouble. Some big kind of trouble. Trouble Thomas wasn’t
going to want to deal with. Who would? Everyone he knew had had enough trouble in their lives.
Those eyes cut up toward him, a wild mixture of gold and bright green, begging him for help.
Him? What could he possibly do? But how could he just do nothing when Kacey was looking at him like that?
He held his finger to his lips and found himself nodding, not even sure himself what he meant. But still and quiet was the
best move for the moment in any case.
The pretty eyes closed, but the tension in Kacey’s face eased some, and he settled deeper into his position, stabilizing.
Thomas helped Sam to his feet, and they were both noticeably calmer as well. “What am I supposed to do with this friend
of yours now?”
Sam closed his eyes. “He’s not bad, Mister. I swear to God. I just—I can’t keep up.”
“I’ll get my shit. Just leave it outside with the dudes downstairs.” Kacey’s lip curled, Sam’s tightened, and someone was
about to explode again.
 His money was on Thomas.
“No one is fucking throwing you out! Just stop it!” Thomas’s boy could snarl. “Jesus fucking Christ! Just because you⁠—”
“Shut up, O’Reilly. You don’t know dick-all about me.”
“I have had enough!” Thomas barked.
“I’ll take him.” The room went silent suddenly, so River said it again. “I’ll take him.” Everyone stared at him, and frankly,
he didn’t know what he was doing either. But the energy in the room was charged with emotion, and it was making him uneasy.
“Come on, Kacey.” He wasn’t giving anyone a chance to talk him out of it.
Kacey blinked, obviously utterly confused, but he stumbled to his feet, swaying. “Come where?”
“With me. You and Sam can’t be friends right now, but a friend isn’t going to toss you out either, so this is best for tonight.
Do you need help?” He reached for Kacey, offering him an arm.
“I got it. Thanks. Shit, I don’t even know where the fuck I am…”
He heard Sam murmur, “I have to say sorry to Daddy Mike.”
“Alcohol and a few hits to the head will do that.”
Thomas took a step toward him. “River, you don’t have to do this.”
River snorted. “Yes, I do. Call me when you’re up and moving tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
He winked at Thomas. “You owe me one.” He headed for the door and held it for Kacey who was moving slowly. “It’s
crowded up there, and I don’t know what your reception will be but⁠—”
“Hey.” Mike seemed to come out of nowhere. “I got this. Follow me.”
“Thank you.” Jesus, that man was huge. Absolutely gargantuan. He wasn’t used to looking up to anyone. The sea of bikers
and drunks parted like Mike was the Messiah, and they passed the bar without a single comment or anyone harassing Kacey.
“There you go.”
“Thanks, Mike. I’m sorry about all of this.”
“Thanks for helping my friends out. Safe home.” They shook hands, and he led Kacey out to the street.
Kacey stood there, quiet and drawn into himself, eyes on the sidewalk.
“So how badly are you hurt? You might as well be honest with me; you don’t have much to lose.”
“I don’t have dick to lose.” Kacey turned away and spit blood on the ground. “I been tenderized. Like riding seven and a
half and getting caught in your bullrope for the next ten.”
He turned his head and looked at Kacey. He had no idea what that meant, but he thought he got the picture. “Do you think
anything is broken?”
“Couple fingers. Maybe a rib or three. Gon’ piss blood for a few days. Nothing serious.” That didn’t even sound like
sarcasm.
The cab arrived, and he watched Kacey climb in like an old man, wincing and groaning. He slid in the other side and
looked at the cabbie. “Emergency room, please.”
 3

K aceyThere
wasn’t sure why the dude was still here.
had been X-rays and wrapping and an IV and stitches—none of which he could afford—and the guy was still
there.
He wasn’t absolutely sure what the hell was wrong with Sam. It made no sense, and when that huge bastard had told them
to kneel and wait for that dick that Sam was married to? Sam had just done it.
Asshole.
It wasn’t right.
Not even a little bit.
And then the dude had showed up and just stayed.
And stayed.
Now they were back in another taxi, and they were going somewhere else, and he didn’t understand what to do now.
He’d never not had any idea what to do.
The cab ride was long, quiet and uncomfortable, and the car eventually stopped on a narrow street with more trees than in
Sam’s neighborhood. “This is me.” The guy got out and walked around to open his door and offer him a hand.
Kacey took it and stood, trying to orient himself. He could get a cheap hotel room for a couple of days, and if he lived, then
get his shit and start hitchhiking out of town.
The cab pulled away, but the guy didn’t move.
“Okay. Let’s start this the right way. I’m River.” Weirdly, the guy offered his hand.
He stared at the man’s hand for a second. It was a fine-looking hand. Solid. Tan. Square. Pretty. Then he shook his head and
held out his own hand. “Lowe. Kacey Lowe. Pleased to meet you.”
River nodded like that was the right answer. He should hope to hell so, it was the only answer he had. “Kacey, would you
like to come inside? I have a guest room, coffee…”
Okay. Okay. Breathe. River was being sweet as hell. “I-I would really appreciate a cup of coffee, man, so I can gather one
or two of my loose chickens.”
River smiled and he was surprised how handsome it was, and how good it looked on the guy. “Yeah, I bet. Coffee it is.”
They headed inside. River didn’t have a doorman, but the building was nice and had a smaller but fancy lobby and shiny
elevators. River put a key in the panel and turned it before hitting the call button. The doors opened right up, and they rode to
the seventh floor, which was the top floor of the building, and the door opened right into River’s apartment.
“Come on in.”
Wow. This was a big old place with light everywhere. It was a little dizzying.
“Thank you.” He didn’t know where this was in comparison to where he’d been or where he’d come from, but it was nice.
“I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’m pretty tired myself. ERs are stressful, but you seemed patient with the whole thing.” River
went straight for the open kitchen and started making coffee. This chatting-like-they-were-friendly thing was strange. “Are you
hungry at all?”
“No, thank you.” He wasn’t going to take this guy’s food from him. A cup of coffee. A chance to piss in quiet. Possibly
directions.
“Suit yourself.” River took out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter while they waited for the coffee to brew. “So are
you from Texas like Sam?”
“Yessir. I’m from about four hours south of Greenville.” He grew up in Huntsville in the shadow of the prison. It hadn’t
sucked until it did.
“I’m not going to pretend to know Texas geography. I know Austin and Dallas and Houston. I think I know where El Paso
is…” River laughed. “It’s a big state. Sure you don’t want some peanut butter?”
“Can I have half?” He wasn’t going to have room for a whole one, if he was honest.
“Of course. The meds will sit better with something in your stomach, right?” River started to hand him the knife and then
chuckled. “I got it.”
He almost smiled, but that hurt, so he just nodded, keeping himself on the stool with pure will alone. “Thank you.”
In a couple of minutes, he had half a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee in front of him. River ate his sandwich
while he poked at his own. “Hey. If you’d rather just take all of that to your room, I understand.”
He didn’t even know what to say. Thank you? Food doesn’t go in bedrooms because everyone knew that caused bugs?
What room? Just the thought of picking up that coffee cup made him want to die a little? “The coffee smells good.”
“Oh, God. Can you pick it up? Want a straw?” River looked horrified for a second. “That wasn’t—I’m not being an
asshole, sorry.”
Kacey glanced up, and the idea of a sippy cup full of black coffee tickled him, all the way down deep where there was still
part of him that was whole. Giggles started deep inside him, then just kept on and on, uncontrollable.
River grinned and chuckled with him. “Yeah, that’s a picture, huh?”
“Yessir. That’s… God…” It hurt.
This hurt.
Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, the world becoming a series of blocks that were tumbling down, because God was a huge
toddler that wanted his way, or he was going to have a friggin’ temper tantrum.
“Whoa. Hey.” River hurried around to his side of the counter and suddenly strong arms were around him. “I’ve got you.
Let’s uh… let’s just get you to bed.” The arms got tighter, and he realized distantly that River was carrying him.
He would apologize, but he couldn’t—not because he wasn’t sorry, but because he didn’t have anything left. Nothing.
Please. Please, I need to go home.
He sighed as River set him down on a soft, comfy bed in a room with dim lighting. River tugged his boots off and puttered
around the room for a minute, then the lights went off and the room was dark apart from the streetlights out the window. “Get
some sleep, Kacey. As much as you need. Your phone is by the bed. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He heard the door close, and then it was quiet.
He should run. He should, but⁠—
Kacey had to admit it.
He’d done been thrown.
 4

THOMAS
Sam is sleeping.

T homas’s text wasn’t unexpected, just sooner than he’d anticipated.

RIVER
Kacey too. Casey? K.C.?
THOMAS
I have no idea
RIVER
Is Sam okay?

Sam had been pretty beat up, but River was more concerned about his mental state. The boy had been fried.
THOMAS
A little jumpy. We’ll work it out.

River gave Thomas a second to come back and ask about Kacey, but he didn’t. It wasn’t often he’d seen Thomas this angry.
Probably better he not say anything until he’d cooled off.
RIVER
Good to hear.
THOMAS
Thanks for taking the kid.

Hm. Well, that was something anyway.

RIVER
You’re welcome.

He wasn’t used to this dynamic. Things were rarely so… up in the air in his universe. He had a strange boy in his guest
room, with nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans and cowboy boots with holes in the soles. Thomas was furious, Sam
seemed confused, and Kacey was… lost.
If the sub, Kyle, had shown, he would have missed it all.
Tomorrow, he’d probably wish he had. He wasn’t convinced he was going to be able to send Kacey back to Thomas and
Sam even if the boys worked it out. He wasn’t a babysitter, though, so either Kacey went back, or the kid was going to have
to…
He’d just have to…
Fuck a duck.
River considered taking his coffee to the bar and adding some whiskey to it.
 He knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t toss this beat-to-hell clearly broken kid with nowhere to go out into the street. He’d
been raised better than that.
No, he was just going to have to convince the kid to let him send him home. Somewhere that he’d get into less trouble,
fewer fights, and have a chance. He didn’t understand what a cowboy was doing up here anyway. Why of all places on Earth
would a cowboy choose New York City? So much noise, so much traffic, so many people… wouldn’t he just get lost up here?
That was a question for Thomas.
RIVER
Do you know why Kacey is in NYC?
THOMAS
Sam says he was outed and beat to hell. Lost everything and ran the opposite way of the cowboys
RIVER
Jesus, really?

Well, fuck a whole fucking raft of ducks. He couldn’t send Kacey home now.
THOMAS
It’s rarely a vacation when a rodeo cowboy shows up here.
RIVER
damn

He couldn’t imagine putting up with this over and over again.

THOMAS
Yes. But he’s not someone Sam can handle. The stories are

Then he waited on those three dots again. River hated waiting.

THOMAS
intense. They set fires, fights, nothing good.

He’s not someone Sam can handle. So no way was Kacey going back there. No way in hell.
He found Thomas’s number and called him.
“I’m so sorry, River.”
“No. No, I get it. We spent half the night in the ER. I’ll keep him for a few days, if he’ll stay.” Maybe he could help Kacey
find some work when he was feeling better.
“I’d appreciate that. Sam needs a few days to get his head on straight.” Thomas started grumbling again. “It’s insane how
those two ramp one another up.”
“Well, that’ll happen when you’re cut from the same cloth.” He was only half joking. Kacey had Sam’s number, and there
had to be a reason why. He’d seen it before. Hell, he remembered hanging on the first Dom that mentored him, desperate for
approval, for belonging.
“Maybe that’s it. Sam and I will get to the bottom of it.”
Poor Sam. He really seemed at war with himself. “I think he honestly believed he was doing the right thing.”
“Oh, no question. Sam has a strong code, and I can’t hold that against him.”
River nodded to himself, wondering what Kacey believed in.
“Not that I’m not going to underline the point with a ballpoint pen that he needs to come to me before he gets in over his
head.”
“Reasonable. I mean, he did try to use his safe word,” he teased. He couldn’t help it. That was the most adorable thing
ever. He was picturing Sam, this little voice going “revolver?” half a second before someone threw the first punch.
“Yes, and then he waded in and started losing his mind.” Thomas made a low sound that read as part frustration and part
fondness. “I am proud that was his reaction, though. That it is that deep inside him.”
“It is. He’s brave. He’d have to be to keep up with you.”
Thomas snorted. “Trust, River. That’s trust.”
He knew that. “I’m teasing. You need a drink and a nap.”
“I do. I intend to be out of pocket until Monday. I do have a duffel for Kacey. Would you like me to send it over?”
“That would be good. Whatever he decides, he’ll want his things.”
“I’ll send them over in the morning.”
“Let’s catch up on Monday.” He had no intention of interrupting Thomas and Sam.
“Thank you again, River.” Thomas hung up, and River set his phone down. He wanted a shower and then some sleep. He
decided he should look in on the kid first, so he slowly pushed the guestroom door open.
Kacey was rocking himself in his sleep, hands held to his chest, tears streaking his cheeks.
 “Shit. Kacey.” He kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed. “Kacey, you’re okay.” He shook his head at himself.
“Fuck. Fine.” He moved up close and put an arm over Kacey’s waist. “Shh. Hey. You’re okay.”
Kacey whimpered, fighting to wake up, even as he pushed in closer. “I’m so fucked, man.”
“You’re not. You’re safe here. At the very least, you’ve bought some time. Breathe, boy.” He held on tight, afraid Kacey
was going to hurt himself.
Hurt himself more.
He breathed in deep, held it a moment, then exhaled fully, making sure the breaths were audible and physical, something to
keep and catch Kacey’s attention.
It took about three breaths before Kacey’s body found his rhythm, tension easing with each exhale.
“That’s it. Good boy.” He spoke softly to soothe nerves and kept breathing, listening to see if Kacey was awake or asleep.
Either way, it seemed like the boy was in a nightmare.
“Is this real? Feel like I’m drowning.”
He understood that. Even he was feeling off-balance right now, and he wasn’t in pain and on meds. “This is real. Drown if
you need to. I’m here. I’ve got you. Nobody knows where you are, Kacey. Let it go.”
Kacey sobbed once, then leaned hard, trusting River to support him.
He accepted that trust, knowing it meant he was committed now, for as long as Kacey needed him. He held Kacey carefully
and whispered softly, telling him he was safe, that he was a good boy.
It didn’t matter if Kacey was awake. Kacey heard him. The boy believed in him.
He ran his fingers through Kacey’s unruly curls and watched as the boy’s face relaxed. The boy looked ten years younger
like this, without the tight lines of worry and eagle-eyed mistrust of everything in his way. River felt a little rush, a little high
that made his skin tingle and his heart beat harder. Kacey had given him a gift he wasn’t asking for, hadn’t planned on seeking at
all.
Fuck, he was in deep, deep trouble.
He might have to kick Thomas’s ass.
 5

T he first thing Kacey noticed when he woke up was that he was thirsty, and the second one was that he had to pee.
The third note, which came thundering in like a herd of elephants, was that he hurt like a motherfucker.
Whoa.
He groaned and tried to sit up, but the room did a little swimmy thing.
“Goddamn.”
“Easy, boy.”
The rough, dry voice came from behind him, and he started to panic. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was that?
Moving was hard so he squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his forehead, trying to put all the pieces together.
Come on. Come on. You were… you were… Sam. Sam and a bar and the fight and pretty hands and hospital and peanut
butter and… “Breathing.”
“Mhm. Breathe,” that voice said softly. “That’s the only thing you’re going to do today that isn’t going to hurt. Much.”
A weight lifted off him and he realized that…Thomas’s friend…Sky? Mountain? River! River, who was built like a
mountain, had been there all night. Or all day. What time was it?
River sat up behind him. “What do you need? Bathroom?”
“Please. Fixin’ to explode.” He managed to sit up, sort of, and he didn’t puke, so it was a win.
“All right. Let’s take it slow. We’re headed out the door and down the hall a little bit.” River’s clothes were wrinkled, and
his hair was all pushed up on one side, but his clothes were nice and Kacey bet he’d looked sharp before he’d slept in it all.
His feet were surprisingly okay, and one knee didn’t feel totally fucked, but his back was a mass of ow, and his hands—he
wasn’t looking at those at all.
Somehow River made him feel light, though, and they kind of floated down the hall. “Listen, your hands are in bad shape.
Let me help if you need it. I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Can you help me unbuckle and all? I have had to sit and piss more than once.”
And he didn’t want the pretty son of a bitch in here if he screamed when he went. That wasn’t classy.
“I can.” River got him all undone, removing his belt entirely. “Call when you need me. You have sweats in your duffel?
Thomas had it dropped off early.”
“I do.”
Fuck.
He sat as soon as River left, trying to relax enough to piss. He had his stuff. That was something. He could charge his
phone, change clothes, and figure his next move.
Like where he was.
That was step number⁠—
White-hot agony slammed through him as he started to pee, and a wild sharp cry left him before he could hide it.
There was a knock at the door almost instantly, but River didn’t come in. “Breathe, boy. They warned us, remember? Just
breathe and listen to my voice.”
“S-sorry. Fuck. Fuck!” He was pissing razor blades.
 “Don’t apologize to me. I’m not the one that got in the fight. Breathe.”
He could see the shadow of River’s feet pacing back and forth in front of the door like he was worried. That was sweet,
but he couldn’t focus on that right now.
“Breathe? You expect me to breathe while I’m shooting battery acid out the tip of my dick?” Insane. The dude was insane.
“At least the plumbing is working.” River sounded way too cool. “You need some water. Whiskey burns.”
“Not funny!” Okay, maybe a little funny, but not right this second.
“I wasn’t trying to be funny, boy. Unfortunately, you’re going to pay for that bender for a while, and this is where it starts.
You’re going to need a bath too. That’ll be interesting.”
He was pretty sure that interesting wasn’t the right word, but he wasn’t in a place to argue, not really. He flushed and stood,
wavering there for a second while he tried to figure out what to do next.
“Sweats?” River said patiently as if he could see right through the door. “Kick off your jeans. I’ll get them.”
“Please.” Kick off his jeans. Okay. He sat back down on the pot and started the fascinating process of wiggling off his jeans
without hands.
The door opened a crack and a clean pair of tighty-whities, which he had no hope of getting on, came through first,
followed by his gray sweats.
He stared at them, laying there on the floor.
Huh.
Fuck, his toes were pretty talented, he guessed…
He wasn’t sure he bent that way, though.
“If you need help…” River offered again, probably noticing how quiet he’d gotten.
“Well, I reckon I got three options. I could stand here staring at these things until the end of time. I could just wander out
into the world bruised and nekkid. Or I could get you to help me so my nuts don’t sunburn.” He was plumb out of shame, he
figured.
“I’m coming in.” River walked into the bathroom and picked up his undies, then moved around behind him. “Left foot.”
River had his jeans off and soft comfortable sweats on in no time with no fuss and no funny business. Then River reached
under the counter and came up with a new toothbrush, which he unwrapped, loaded up with toothpaste, and sat on the counter.
“See if you can manage that, please? Your breath is toxic.”
“Shit, I’m toxic.” There wasn’t a bit of him that wasn’t now, and he was burning bridges like a firebug with a death wish.
It hurt, but he managed the toothbrush. He was going to have to wipe his ass, eventually, so he could tough it out. Then he
skinned out of his T-shirt, wet a bit of it and started scrubbing off blood.
River had taken his jeans away but came back to check on him. “Need help? I’ve got towels, soap… I guess you’re not
ready for a shower.”
He was already sweating from the exertion. The idea of stepping into a tub was fairly intimidating. “I’m just trying to get
the bulk of the nasty off.”
River pulled a washcloth off a towel rack and ran it under the tap. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. Especially
right now. Let me.”
“I—Okay? I mean, thanks, man.” He swore by all he held holy that the ground was shifting like mad beneath his feet.
River took over, using warm water and gentle pressure, silently cleaning him up bit by bit. He couldn’t fathom the man’s
patience, or why River gave two shits one way or the other about him.
“You ever felt like the world is just fixin’ to dissolve under your boots?” Because he did. He didn’t know what the fuck to
do.
“Dear boy.” River reached up and pushed some hair from his forehead. Such a strangely tender touch. “I’m sorry things are
so hard for you. Why don’t we talk over breakfast? Maybe I can help.” River said that so easily, like everything was fixable.
“That’s sweet. I’m happy to chat with you.” That didn’t cost a thing, and River’d been kind as all get out. “I don’t even
know where I am, in the grand scheme of things. Thank God for Google maps, huh?”
“This is a wonderful city to explore when you’re feeling up to it.” River stepped back and nodded, seeming satisfied with
his work. “There. That’s much better. Maybe tomorrow, we’ll figure out how to get you in a bath or a shower. Are you feeling
more steady?”
“I am, thanks.” That was relative, he supposed, but he’d just keep on keeping on until he had a plan. He still couldn’t
believe it had only taken a few days before Sam was done with him.
“I could use some coffee and eggs. Interested?” River picked up his gross T-shirt and tossed it into a washing machine
along with the washcloth, then came back for him. “Lean if you need to.”
“Thanks. I’d offer to help, but I cain’t cook a thing.” He lived off Pop-Tarts and bean burritos, with the periodic tamale or
burger. He was all ninety-nine cent bag dinners, all the way. Made for better savings.
“You’d be more helpful with hands.” River chuckled. “Sit. I’ll get you some ice and your meds.” River started bustling,
setting an icepack beneath his hands-b and wrapping them in a towel, then giving him his meds and some water with a straw.
“Scrambled? Fried? How do you like your bacon?”
There was a way to like bacon? “However you’re having yours will be great.”
Really, he needed coffee. Caffeine. Clarity.
River nodded and started coffee, cracked eggs and put bacon in the oven without saying much, just letting him be. A cup of
coffee in a travel mug landed on the counter.
“Thank you, sir.” He leaned down and breathed in the bitter, dark scent, letting it fill him up to the brim. “Good coffee.”
“Thank you. I’m a bit of a coffee snob. I think you can manage that mug without spilling.” River unwrapped his hands.
“Give it a shot.”
Hell, the shock between the ice and the heat was enough to have him springing wood, for fuck’s sake. He brought the mug to
his lips and drank deep, loving the burn as it crawled down into his belly.
“There you go. Excellent.” River served up eggs and crispy bacon and joined him on a stool. “Mm. Breakfast. Or, I guess
this is more like late lunch. We slept half the day.”
“I really appreciate all the help. It sucks to be such a giant pain in the ass.”
“I’ll admit this wasn’t how I expected my weekend to end, but I can appreciate that life is interesting.” River grinned at
him. “You’re actually a tiny pain in the ass.”
He snorted, because he usually caught rather than pitched, but that wasn’t public knowledge. “Yeah, I ain’t the biggest
mother out there, that’s for sure.”
Even Sam was more solid than he was, even though he had a couple more inches in height.
River helped him get hold of a fork. “Eat. I have questions you don’t want to answer on an empty stomach.”
“Yessir.” He scooped up a bite of eggs, and they were good. Eggs could end up nasty—nothing salsa couldn’t fix, but these
didn’t even need salt.
“Good boy.” River dug into his breakfast and ate well, finishing off a few slices of bacon and sipping coffee between bites.
He didn’t seem as big this morning—tall and broad-shouldered, solid but not the bruiser he’d seemed last night.
Or maybe he just didn’t feel as tiny. Who the fuck knew?
He did know River was kinder to him than he deserved.
“Okay, first hard question. I know a little about you, Kacey. I know you’re in New York because you ran, and I know you
can’t go home. I understand on a basic level why. But I need a little more detail. I need to know if those people are going to
stay in Texas or if you think they’re coming after you.”
“No one’s coming after me.” No one cared now. He’d been driven off, stripped of everything, and basically marked as a
traitor. He didn’t exist anymore to the rodeo life. He had been erased.
“Okay.” River covered one of his bruised and stitched-up hands with his own, the touch warm and lighter than he would
have expected. “Good. So you’re safe, and it’s about moving forward then.”
He didn’t even know what to say about that, to be honest. He didn’t know where forward was.
“Don’t worry. This is a one-day-at-a-time thing, Kacey. Let’s just get through today, okay? You’ve got a lot of healing to
do.” River refilled his coffee and topped off his own.
“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m disrupting shit, and I don’t know what to do.”
“You are, boy. But I’m not sure I mind.” River put more eggs on his plate. “Eat. That’s all you need to do right now.”
He didn’t know why River called him, “boy.” It didn’t sound mean or dismissive like when a cop called him that, but it
wasn’t normal, either.
Sam’s guy had called him that, though. Maybe it was a New York thing?
“Not knowing what to do is a terrible feeling, I know. So how about this? You’re welcome to stay here. For the next few
days, you’re going to sleep a lot, eat well, and try to let yourself relax. That’s your job. Get yourself whole.”
“Why are you being nice to me? I mean, I appreciate it, but… is it because you know Sam?”
“Actually, no. I’m doing a favor for Thomas, who needs some time with his boy. Kacey, you have nowhere else to go, and
I’m not the kind of man to throw someone down on their luck out on the street.”
“I’ll pay you back, I swear.” It might not be with money, but at some point, River would need something he could give.
Someday.
“That won’t be necessary. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. Doing something for someone else is its own
reward… or so I hear.” River grinned. “You ate all your eggs.”
“They were good. Very. Didn’t need salt even.” He wasn’t sure how that happened, but it was true.
“All right. I want you to take that ice and that towel for your hands and go sink into my amazing couch, put your feet up and
watch some TV for a while. I’m sure you can figure out the remote; it’s on the coffee table.”
“What about you?” He didn’t want to run River out of his front room. That was bitchy…
“What about me? It’s a big couch; I’ll join you in a bit. I need to clean up here first.” River was so relaxed it was hard not
to want to believe this was all okay.
“Okay. If you need something, holler.” His head throbbed enough that he was going to just take River up on his offer.
Hopefully, he’d make it another day before the man hated him.
 6

D oing a favor for Thomas? This had gone well beyond a simple favor and not because Thomas had asked for more. This
situation was entirely River’s doing.
He had an adorable, deeply broken boy dozing on his couch who’d done every single thing he’d asked since last night,
never questioned him, and trusted him again and again more or less unconditionally.
What he had was a sub. Not that Kacey knew that. Not that he’d want that if he understood, which he clearly didn’t. Kacey
had no understanding of Sam’s relationship with Thomas.
It didn’t change the truth of it though. Kacey called to him, and he felt the same way.
He felt a chemistry, a pull.
He poured himself another cup of coffee, wondering what the hell he thought he could do for this boy. Really. He’d never
had a live-in sub, and he certainly never tried to convince anyone that they should be one, let alone be his. He wasn’t even sure
yet if he was ready for that either.
He had something in common with the boy that way. He had no idea what he was doing. None.
He grabbed his phone and headed for his office. Noel. He’d call Noel. God knew his best friend and mentor knew about
live-in subs. Tyson had lived with Noel for as long as he’d known him, and together those two were… stunning.
They were passionate and explosive and hilarious, a little flamboyant, and totally in love.
That said, there was no question whatsoever what their relationship was, or what the power dynamic was. It was a
beautiful thing to see, if a touch overwhelming.
Like being in the middle of a tornado.
He closed his office door and made the call on speaker.
“’lo?”
“Tyson. You shouldn’t be answering your Master’s phone.”
“Oh, is it his? I just grabbed. How are you, my favorite River?” Someone was in fine form.
How was he doing? He wasn’t sure, but did he want to tell Tyson the truth anyway? “I am well. I’m looking forward to
seeing you both next month. Are you ready for your trip to the Big Apple?”
“Oh my God!” The shriek had him pulling the phone from his ear. “I so am. We both miss you like death, and we want to
see everything and hug your face and meet all your new friends!”
His friends weren’t new, but usually he went to New Mexico to see Noel and Tyson, rather than asking them to make the
trip. Tyson did love to travel though. “It’ll be a good time. Master Noel is going to be cross with me for getting you all wound
up. Would you put him on? It’s good to hear your voice, boy.”
“I miss you too. So much. Hold on, Sir.” There was a pause and then, “Master! River’s on the phone!”
“Why did you have my phone, boy? You’re not allowed on TikTok for another two days!”
He laughed out loud. That was Tyson tip to toe, and Noel was going to have entirely too much fun punishing him. Again.
“Hey, River. How goes? How’s the big city treating you?” Noel’s voice always reminded him of two huge stones grinding
together.
“Hello, Noel. I have been perfectly comfortable, and a hundred percent satisfied until last night.” Somehow he was neither
this morning.
“Uh-oh. What’s up? Boy, make me a coffee. Now.”
“Do you want it like normal or one of your fancy espressos with the froth and stuff?” Tyson didn’t sound the least bit
contrite.
“The fancy one. Take your time.” He could hear Tyson head outside. “Talk to me.”
“God, I don’t know where to start.” He thought for a second. “Thomas, a very accomplished friend of mine, has a sub
whose friend appeared on their doorstep the other day. Suffice to say that he caused enough chaos that I took this kid off
Thomas’s hands just to separate the subs and give Thomas and his boy a little privacy.”
“Oh, man. Is he on his own because he and his Dom lost each other?” That was a delicate way of asking if someone had
died. Noel could be so odd that way.
“No. Thankfully no. But he was outed at a rodeo somewhere in Texas, I think, and this is where he ran. He’s in bad shape,
not made better by the bender he took Thomas’s boy on last night. We spent half the night in the ER.”
“Oh, man. A cowboy, huh? Or just a spectator? Either way, you’re a ways from Texas.” He could see Noel take his glasses
off in his mind’s eye, rub the bridge of his nose. “So, that’s not the end of it, I know.”
“No. That’s just the beginning. Now I have a broken, lonely, beat-to-hell boy sleeping on my couch who trusts me for no
reason, and who is really quite… lovely.”
“Ah.” Noel chuckled softly. “It’s heady, isn’t it? When you discover that, and it’s a surprise?”
“It’s dizzying. I’ve known this boy less than twenty-four hours. I know nothing about him other than he… everything about
him…” Even his hair, his eyes, the way he looks at me like I’m from another world… Jesus, what was wrong with him?
“Everything just draws me in.”
“Listen, I’m supposed to warn you, tell you to be careful, but I’m not that man. I believe in shit like fate and forever and that
magic fucking moment when you’re handed something you weren’t looking for.” Noel chuckled softly, the sound settling in his
belly like an old song that always made him smile. Noel’s energy was a lightning storm, a dust devil that popped up, sweeping
everything away, and then left it scoured a little. “Sometimes you jump. Sometimes it’s a huge mistake, but the times it’s not?
Fuck, River. That’s why we’re here.”
“Shut up.” He chuckled. “I don’t think he even knows what a sub is. He sure doesn’t know his friend is one. What do I do
with him, Noel? What if he thinks I’m… twisted?” He sighed. That word, twisted, that was the reason he’d left for New York
at twenty-three. He was done scaring people he was trying to take care of.
“What if he does? Let him show you what he needs. You know he will. If it’s real, it’s a little twisted up.” Noel murmured
his thanks to Tyson along with an order to go sweep the front porch. “I mean, I’m a little jealous. Beginnings are exciting. Well,
my boy is exciting and challenging, and our beginning was a nuclear explosion, but you get my drift.”
“That’s not a drift, Noel. That’s more like a riptide.” Sure, beginnings were exciting. And excruciating. And often
incredibly disappointing because they implied endings. “Let him show me what he needs? He’s fragile. I don’t want to fuck this
up. He’s just nowhere right now. He has nothing.”
“No, he has you.”
The words dropped like weights onto his psyche.
River took a breath and let it out slowly. Noel was right. This is what he was here for.
“I hate you.”
“I know. I love you too. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“If he’s still here, you will. Thank you. See you in a month.” He needed to go check on his boy.
He hung up the phone, breathing, in and out, filling his lungs and emptying them totally. Noel had always had a way of
cutting through the confusion for him and shining a light so he could see. One way or another, Kacey needed him. Kacey was
his. It didn’t matter what the future looked like; right now, it was all about making it until tomorrow.
 7

K acey slept and slept, but eventually his own stench woke him up, and he made his way down to the bathroom, intending to
take himself a shower. He needed to get the blood off, the sweat and the smell of hospital.
The walk down the hall in the pre-dawn was long, a little unnerving, but he managed it and took a minute to sit on the toilet
as he waited to catch his breath before he turned on the lights, figured out where the bath towels were.
Now, the fancy shower.
God, he hoped he didn’t fuck it up. He just wanted to soak.
He got the water running, and it even got warm, but he hadn’t managed to get his shirt off when there was a knock on the
door.
“Everything okay?” River’s voice came through the door.
“I’m trying to get clean. I stink like spoiled cabbage.” And he needed to figure out how to manage it.
“Do you need help? Or… maybe you’d rather have a bath? I have a tub in the master bedroom.”
“I don’t know how I’d get out…” But he loved the idea of soaking in hot water.
“I’ll get you out. Shut the water off and grab a towel. I’ve seen plenty of bare asses, yours isn’t going to scare me. I’ll go
start the water. You shuffle on over.” It didn’t sound like River was taking no for an answer, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to
say no anyway.
“Okay.” He chuckled under his breath. “Maybe my ass is magical. You don’t know.”
There was a long silence on the other side of the door and then River said, “I’m going to start the water.”
Oh. Oops. He hadn’t thought River would actually hear him.
Him and his magical ass.
Lord have mercy.
Kacey turned off the water and found a towel, then headed out, following the way to the lit-up door, still chuckling under
his breath.
“How are you feeling today? You’re walking much better.” River was sitting on the edge of a big, deep tub, one hand under
the running water and his back to the door.
“I slept hard. I have to tell you, I might live. Maybe.” He wasn’t sure what to do, but he did love the broad line of River’s
shoulders. Pretty, pretty.
“Good. I like you alive. And if you can’t sleep here, you’ll never sleep anywhere. Everyone who stays in the guest room
tells me it’s amazing.” River got up and moved away from the tub. “You should get in. I’m not sure how deep you like it, but
it’s a big tub.”
“It’s cool.” He stepped to the edge and wiggled his sweats off. “Can you help with my T-shirt?”
“Of course.” River took hold of the hem of his shirt and worked it up slowly, slipping it carefully off one arm and then the
next. “Jesus, you are one big bruise. You think this tape on your ribs will survive the bath, or should I take it off?”
“Just take it off, I guess. It’s there to help the pain. It’s not doing anything else.” He was used to busted ribs, thank
goodness.
“All right. I think I have a first aid kit with those weird scissors.” River reached under the vanity and came up with the kit,
found the scissors, and started to cut the tape loose. “I’m sure this hurts. Just breathe.”
“Uh-huh.” River was very into breathing. Maybe it was a yoga thing. Sam did yoga. At least he could stand on his head for
a long time.
He hissed when the wrap loosened. Dammit.
“Sorry.” River got it off and dropped it in the trash, then whistled softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen bruising like that.
Damn. You’re an expert at getting your ass kicked.”
“It’s a skill.” He didn’t wink, because his eyes were pretty damn swollen right now, but he did it mentally.
River snorted. “Sweats off; let’s get your magical ass into the tub.”
“That’s me. Magical Ass Kacey.” He wanted to wiggle his butt, but there was no way. Not right now.
He stripped with River’s help and pretended that wasn’t weird. He pretended it wasn’t weird to get help into the bathtub
too, and that was worth it. The water was warm, and the tub was roomy. He could take another nap right here.
“You soak.” River took a few steps back. “I’ll start some coffee. I can help with your hair when you’re ready.”
“Thanks. I ain’t a virgin. I been naked in front of folks before.” Cowboys were good at naked, actually. “I mean, I’m just
saying, I’m not wigged.”
Just tired.
River snorted. “Good. I’m not wigged either; I’m rather experienced with naked bodies. I just keep trying to judge how
much privacy you need.”
“I just hope I don’t fart and make bubbles in the tub.” That would be embarrassing.
“Ha!” River laughed, this big, happy sound that echoed against the tile in the bathroom. “The broody cowboy makes jokes.”
“Don’t tell no one. You’ll ruin my new, shiny reputation.”
“Okay.” River leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over that broad chest. “But is that the reputation you want?”
“Huh?” He’d just been making a joke. He didn’t have any reputation that he wanted to keep.
“I know that was a flippant joke, but I was just curious. You’re starting over. Your brand-new shiny reputation is whatever
you want it to be.”
He shook his head. He didn’t have anyone to be. He didn’t know who to be, not now, but he couldn’t admit that to this
pretty man.
“Don’t worry, you don’t need to know anything any time soon. It’s just something to think about.”
“Yeah.” God, he needed to… do something. Somehow. But he was so fucking underwater it wasn’t funny.
“You’re going to feel like a new man after your bath. I love that tub. It’s my sanctuary.” River flipped a switch, and he was
surrounded by soft lighting.
“Oh…” It was so fine, so much fun. He caught himself with tears in his eyes, and he ducked under the water a bit to hide it.
“Nice, right? It can change colors if you want it to, but I always feel like that’s a bit much. There’s music too if you want
it.”
“Wow. I bet you spend hours in here.” He would. He’d just float and read and jack off and sleep.
River chuckled. “Between you and me, it’s more than I probably should. I’m telling you, it’s a spiritual experience, that
tub.”
Then River pushed a button and the jets started, and Kacey melted. “Oh, fuck me…”
“If that’s too strong, I can ease up a little.” He felt River’s eyes on him, watching him. “But you look like you’re enjoying
it.”
“Uhn.” That was a yes. Hopefully, it was clear.
“Good. I’ll leave you to melt for a bit.” River turned on some music—nineties alternative he thought, but it wasn’t totally
clear over the sound of the jets.” I’ll come back before you get pruney.”
“Thanks, man.” This was like heaven. He closed his eyes and let himself float.
God, what was he going to do? He needed to make a plan, but he just wasn’t sure where to go. Cowboy country was out.
The rumor was out that he was nasty, that he forced himself on other guys. He didn’t have a lot of skills that weren’t involved
in riding a bull. Maybe he could get a job sweeping floors.
Or skydiving.
Possibly he could become an influencer.
He started chuckling and shaking his head. Yeah, that was it—at-loser-cowboy.
He was floating mentally when River came back for him, the jets shutting off waking him slightly. “I’m just going to wash
this wild hair, Kacey, okay?”
He didn’t get a chance to say yes or no. River’s fingers dove into his hair, massaging his scalp and the scent of shampoo
filled his nostrils.
His lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe, tried his best not to cry.
“Mm. Good boy. Does that feel good?” River’s voice was everywhere, enhanced by the tub.
He tried to answer, but he couldn’t talk past the lump in his throat, so he just nodded.
 Warm water washed over his head as River rinsed the shampoo away. “You’re brand-new now, Kacey. Just starting over.
I’m here for you.”
Please don’t be nice to me. Please. Cowboys don’t cry. Please just go away, because I don’t know how to feel this.
But River didn’t stop, and he didn’t go away. He stayed, and strong hands helped Kacey out of the tub and wrapped him in
a big, soft towel. “You’re welcome here. This can be your home for as long as you need. As long as you want.”
“Why are you being this way? I ain’t done nothing to deserve it!”
River bent to look him in the eye. “You didn’t do anything to deserve being run out of your home either.”
He hadn’t. He hadn’t done what Mitch had said he’d done. “I didn’t do what they said. I swear to God. I ain’t a saint, but I
ain’t mean.”
Kacey swore he was going to shake apart.
River pulled him in close, arms that felt like tree trunks wrapping around him, supporting his weight. “I believe you. You’re
a good boy.”
“I wouldn’t never make a man be with me unwilling. I swear, I thought—” He’d thought it was love.
Well, if it was, he didn’t want none of it. It hurt.
“Oh, Kacey. I didn’t know that was—I’m so sorry. Of course you wouldn’t. I know.” River lifted him right off his feet and
set him down on a bed—a huge bed. “People here will understand you, boy. I promise. I understand you.”
“I ain’t bad! I swear to you, I—I wouldn’t do it.” Now that the dam was cracking open, he couldn’t seem to stop it, to shut
up.
“I know. I believe you, boy.” River popped a T-shirt over his head. The sudden shock of the jolt of pain from moving, the
snug hold of the shirt, and the warmth let him stop.
“That’s a good boy. I’m listening if you want to talk. How about I pour some coffee?” River handed him some sweats.
Why do you call me boy? He wanted to ask, but he was afraid to hear any of the words that might fall out of him after.
“I know you’re ready to relax after that bath. Are you hungry?” River fussed over him, made sure he was dressed, and then
picked up his laundry.
“Thank you. Yessir, please. I mean, I can buy us a pizza?” That was good, right?
“You want pizza? What’s your favorite? New York pizza is the best anywhere.” River took his hands and looked them over.
“The swelling is way down. That’s great.”
“I like pizza.” He just liked all of it — pepperoni, veggie, sausage, cheese, deluxe. “What’s your favorite?”
“Hm. Pepperoni, mushroom, maybe black olives. Sometimes anchovies. Sausage.” River laughed. “I just like pizza too.
Come on, let’s order delivery and flop on my comfy couch.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t understand, but he didn’t know what else to do.
“You’re welcome.” River finger-combed his damp hair, then took his hand as they left the bedroom. “And save your
pennies; the pizza is on me.”
 8

K acey looked even younger all cleaned up. As it turned out, his hair was blond, not muddy brown, and a lot of what he
thought were bruises was actually smeared blood. Not that the boy wasn’t beat up, he just looked… more human.
Some good rest, a bath, and comfort food had been good for Kacey, and good for River too in a way. He’d had a little time
to think, and to take things slow.
Kacey was in and out. He’d be awake for a while, then doze off. He’d really liked the pizza, but as soon as River turned on
the TV, the boy was out.
Every time Kacey floated off, the boy cuddled in, drawn to him like a magnet. Then he would wake himself up, blink, and
ease away.
That was all right. Eventually, the boy would stop fighting what he already understood—on some level—that River was
good for him. That River would keep him safe.
That River could give him what he needed.
And River could be patient.
His shoulder was stiff, and his arm was asleep, but he’d be damned if he was moving right now. Kacey sighed softly and
stretched, pushing against him close enough that he could feel the brush of those long eyelashes.
He pressed a kiss to Kacey’s forehead. It was reflexive, and he didn’t let himself overthink it. River was happy to hold the
boy, soothe him, keep him calm so he could heal. He still wasn’t convinced that Kacey would stay once he was healed
physically, so the stronger this trust he was building could be the better.
Kacey woke up, pulling away with a moan. “God, I’m sorry. I keep being a dork. Tell me I’m not drooling on you.”
River put a hand on his shoulder. “Kacey. Don’t apologize. You need the rest, and I promised you the time to do it.”
“Yeah, but it’s a… I mean… it’s a little super-friendly.” Kacey smiled at him, vulnerability pouring off him in waves.
“I am your friend, Kacey,” he said seriously. “And I want to take care of you.”
“But—” Kacey searched his eyes, brows drawing down as if River was doing something dangerous. “I haven’t done
anything to deserve it. Even Sam’s mad at me…”
“If we only ever helped people that deserved it, none of us would ever get help from anyone.” River slid closer on the
couch. “Sam is upset because you dragged him into a fight he didn’t want. But he understands why. Being mad doesn’t make
you not friends, and you’ll get your chance to apologize.”
“I hope so. I’m real sorry he got hurt.”
Not that Kacey was sorry for fighting or insulting the bikers. Or putting himself in danger, being unsafe, drinking too much,
being reckless…
Just that Sam got hurt.
Kacey’s total lack of self-respect was a problem they were going to have to work on.
Not that he had the first fucking idea how.
“He got hurt because of your impaired decision-making, Kacey. Because of a reckless disregard for your own health and
safety. You’re going to have to give that some thought.”
Kacey nodded and sighed softly. “Yeah, I hear you. No reason to drag anyone into hell with me. I was mad as hell. Still am,
I guess.”
“There is no reason for you to dive headfirst into hell either. None. You don’t deserve punishment, you’re not a fuckup, and
you’re not out of options.”
Now the expression was sheer shock. “How did—How did you—Did I talk in my sleep?”
Even if Kacey hadn’t said a word, it didn’t take much to extrapolate the reasons behind the boy’s actions. Self-destructive
behavior was what it was, and he’d seen it many times before. Hell, he’d been there himself for a while.
“I pay attention.” And his bathtub really was a wondrous place.
“I got to get better at that cowboying-up thing, huh?” He got a wink with pink cheeks.
“No. No, Kacey. Just the opposite. You need to get better at being honest with your feelings. At trusting. You need to forget
the culture that makes you close it all up and let it out instead. There are times when controlling your emotions is appropriate,
of course, but this isn’t one of them.” He wanted all the raw honesty Kacey would give him.
“That’s not how I was taught. Not a bit.”
He hummed his disapproval. “How far has that instruction gotten you? How well has it served you, boy? All this time. Is it
helping you?”
Kacey wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Hell, I am so fucking full of not knowing that it’s stupid. I don’t know a
goddamn thing that I used to know. I thought I was okay, right up until I wasn’t, and why the hell are you calling me boy?”
“Does it bother you?” He’d rather avoid a direct answer for the moment.
“No. You aren’t being mean. I can tell. It’s just weird.”
“Not in my world, it’s not. For now, just know that it’s meant affectionately, and it’s a reminder that I want to help you on
your journey. Thomas calls Sam ‘boy’ as well. I promise it’s meant respectfully.”
What a can of worms. Maybe he should be more careful, because he wasn’t ready to dive too deep with Kacey yet.
“Yeah. They’re… intense, but Sam sure does love him.”
“Yes, indeed. Thomas would move heaven and earth for Sam, too.” He’d never known a couple more devoted to each other
—lovers, Dom and sub, best friends. It was something to aspire to.
“Yeah. Sam’s got his shit together.” Kacey took a deep breath and let it out. “Sometimes I think⁠—”
Kacey stopped himself with a wry little chuckle, then shook his head.
“Finish your thought, boy. Honesty, remember? These conversations stay between us, I promise.”
Kacey shook his head, body rocking the slightest bit, as if there was music playing somewhere and Kacey simply couldn’t
stay still. “I just wonder if I shouldn’t have been someone else. Someone not born to make one stupid decision after another.”
“You know.” He took Kacey’s hand in both of his. Kacey already was someone else. He was out, he was in New York, he
was trying to figure it out. “Have you ever considered that none of this is your fault? You’ve been trying to be who you were
taught to be, and you were dropped into circumstances beyond your control. Maybe you need to take some time to figure who
you really are now that you can make those decisions for yourself.”
“I don’t… I’m sorry, man. I don’t understand. I’ve never been anything else but who I am… I try to be better, but I don’t
know how to be anything but a marginal bullrider.”
“Okay. That’s all right. You’ll understand better with time, and as we work together. I can teach you to be more than you
can imagine.” That was cryptic enough that it should prompt Kacey to wonder, maybe eventually ask some questions.
“Right now, my imaginator is broke-dick.” That made Kacey chuckle softly and straighten. “But if you give me a bit, it’ll
start back up.” Then he got a head tilt. “Are you like a life coach? I can’t see Sam being friends with a cult leader, and I ain’t
got enough money to be a-a-a-member.”
He laughed. Someone who didn’t know better might call Sin Deep a cult, but it was a club—membership was voluntary
and incredibly cheap for subs. “I’m really just a nobody with money and too much time on my hands. But I have an interest in
something like life coaching, yes.” Just a lot sexier and with orgasms. He instantly regretted even thinking that because Kacey
was already making his balls heavy. He could jack off to the image of Kacey in his bathtub for days.
He probably would.
“Good deal. You’re handsome and easy to talk to.” Kacey squeezed his hands. “I bet you do fine, coaching. I got faith.”
Faith. He was lucky he even heard that. He’d almost stopped listening after Kacey called him handsome. “I have faith in
you too, Kacey.”
“Somebody’s got to, right?” Kacey smiled at him, and there was a heaviness, this age in his gaze. “I appreciate this, and I
swear to you, I’m trying to make things right.”
“What does that mean? Make things right? Make what right?”
“Everything. I can’t think of a solitary thing I touched that I ain’t broke, ’cept for you, and I’ve only known you two days.”
Everything was too big; Kacey was going to make himself crazy. “My guess is that there are very few things you really need
to spend your time on fixing, and the rest you just have to let go of. Sam and Thomas, maybe Mike at the bar… do you really
care about fixing the rest of it?”
Kacey’s lips parted, then there was the tiniest shake of his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d done it.
 Baby steps. “Talk, boy. It’s heavy now. When you get it off your chest it will be lighter.”
“I—Everyone believed I did it. No question. Everybody.” Kacey closed his eyes, hiding away from him.
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine anyone thinking such awful things of you. But Kacey, they didn’t know you. Not if they believed
you could hurt anyone that way. They didn’t love you, because they didn’t stand by you. Those are people you have to let go.
There’s nothing to fix and there’s no point in trying.” The truth was hard, and he knew it would hurt, but Kacey needed to know
the whole world wasn’t that way.
“Yeah. There ain’t a lot of folks that do, I guess.” There was another one of those long, slow breaths. “Do you play
backgammon or anything?”
He smiled at Kacey. Okay, no more hard talk for now. “I do. I have a great board; do you want to play?”
“Yeah, that would be cool. Thanks. I’d offer to play cards, but—” Kacey held up his hands.
“A cut-throat hand of cribbage is in our future.” He winked. Kacey was right, of course. The boy needed some time to
breathe. “I’ll get the board. Coffee?”
 9

K acey texted Sam at five a.m. after a sleepless night, figuring no one would see it until after dawn.
KACEY
I’m sorry, man. I suck. I hope you and your man are okay and happy.

Then he turned his phone off, because what else did he have to say? He went to the window and sat there, thinking about all
the shit River had said. It was a hard lesson, that the folks he’d thought of as family wanted him dead and gone, but he was
gonna learn it.
Again.
This time, it was going to stick, dammit. He wasn’t going to keep being the world’s biggest fool. He was going to find a
space where he could lie low, get a job doing something mindless, and…
Fuck, he didn’t know.
Get an apartment, a truck, and a dog.
“Kacey?” River pounded twice on his door, then let himself in. “Kacey.”
He blinked over from the window, his heart jumping from pure shock. “Hey. You okay? What’s wrong?”
River was wide-eyed and seemed very much like he’d been awakened from a deep sleep. “Uh. Nothing. I just… you’re
okay? I mean you look okay, but I’m just checking. Sam was… or, rather, I was… concerned. That’s all.” River leaned in the
doorway in his boxers, hair sticking up everywhere and took a deep breath.
“I can’t sleep, but that’s all. I was trying to be quiet.” What did Sam have to do with that? “I apologized to Sam. He
deserved the apology, even if we don’t stay friends.”
“You’re going to stay friends.” River walked up to him and slipped an arm around his hips. “He was worried when you
didn’t answer your phone, and Thomas called me. What you need to do is have a conversation with Sam.”
He didn’t know about that, but that was status quo. He was damn good at not knowing shit these days. “I didn’t mean to
scare nobody. I didn’t think he’d even see it ’til morning.”
He hadn’t been ugly. Pre-dawn hurting texts were like drunk texts, without the typos and the emojis.
“I believe in your good intentions, boy.” River said that slowly, like it was supposed to be important. Super deep.
River was solid, and the hand against him was so warm that his eyes wanted to close.
“What do you see out there? You think you might want to make this your city?” River’s voice was warm too, rolling over
him like waves.
How? How could he not just be taken in and crushed? Just crunched up. He’d been pretending he was this big deal, this
ball of wild energy cowboy, and the world had proved to him he was tiny. “I was watching how it just goes and goes. There’s
always folks moving around. It’s wild, imagining where all they’re going.”
“It’s a busy place. It’s a great place to feel like you’re part of something. I can take you out tomorrow to look around if you
want. See some sights.”
“Did you move here? I mean, did you pick it, or was it picked for you?”
“I moved here. I wasn’t pushed out like you were, but I did make my own decision that I shouldn’t stay. I wasn’t well
understood by anyone. It took a little while, but eventually I found like-minded people and made friends.”
Okay, that was cool. That was something he could understand, hold onto.
God, River was so warm.
“That’s amazing. I saw Times Square. I want to see things that are normal life things. A grocery store. Your favorite place
to eat lunch.”
“I think I understand what you need, boy. We can do just that. We’ll have lunch there, and then I’ll show you real life. We
can do the touristy stuff later. Of course, some of real life in this city is a little out there too. Maybe I’ll take you to my men’s
club.”
“Yeah? Is it a gay bar type thing? I been to one or two of them, but it’s hard, because… well, it’s complicated.” For a lot of
reasons. What if he got caught? What if he came onto someone taken? What about dancing? It was too open, and trouble was his
middle name.
“Mostly gay, I would say. Members have to identify as male. It is a bar with a nice dance floor, and there are some areas in
the back for… more private fun.” River pulled him a little closer, circling both arms around him and swaying them slightly.
“It’s not complicated here. Do you like to dance?”
“I love dancing.” It was better than sex, because no one had to be worried about getting caught with their jeans down.
“Me too.” River swayed a little harder to some music that only River could hear. “Are you feeling sleepy yet?”
“A little, yeah.” But he didn’t want this to stop. This made his soul settled.
River kept swaying, arms firmly around his middle, looking out at the dark city over his shoulder. “We would dance well
together. You fit well in my arms.”
“You have a good rhythm.” He could match it, move nice and easy and breathe.
“Good thing because there’s no music.” River took a step back, took him by the hand, and twirled him, nice and slow.
Oh, that was so romantic…
He couldn’t have stopped his smile if he tried.
“Look at that smile. It’s lovely.” River pulled him back in, still moving to music he could feel but not hear.
He took a deep breath, and when he let it out, River pulled him in closer. He rested his cheek on River’s chest.
“Mmm.” River hummed, the sound loud in his ear, then kissed the top of his head. Just gently. Affectionate.
It was sweet and made him feel like he was safe here, protected.
“I’ll take you dancing at the club. It’ll be fun.” River moved them in a circle, then back to the window where they rocked
together where he could watch the lights and the cars.
“Okay. I’d like that.” He was feeling heavier and heavier, and he trusted that River had him.
“Do you want to lie down for a bit? I’ll stay with you. We can talk until you fall asleep.” River was already moving him
toward the bed.
“I’d like that.” Was that weird? That he wanted it?
Shit, he didn’t care.
He felt better right now than he had in weeks.
River let him climb into bed and then slipped in beside him and spooned right up behind him, tucking one arm over his
middle. “Is this okay?”
“Yes, sir. It’s just right.” And he thought he could just… float and know it was okay.
 10

“I ’m telling you, I deserve a medal, Clint.” River sank into his office chair with a glass of whiskey and put his feet up.
“Kacey isn’t sleeping; I’ve ended up in his bed every night for almost a week, and I haven’t touched him. I’m like a
fucking monk over here.” Or a not-fucking monk.
“Mm. This is Sam’s friend? The one with the death wish?”
“That’s him.” Though he wasn’t sure he agreed with the description. Not anymore. The healthier the boy got, the better they
were connecting.
“These Texans. I don’t know about them.” Clint’s chuckle made him smile. “So, talk to me. Is he scared to sleep alone?”
“Scared? No. I don’t think he’s scared of much. Worried, yes. He’s really in his head, and I don’t completely understand
why. But I’ve managed to distract him with questions until he’s sleepy and he seems to… appreciate my presence.” The boy
was a snuggler. Some nights he’d had to extract himself just to use the bathroom. Kacey was definitely seeking comfort.
Touch.
Contact.
But when he was awake, Kacey was subdued, spending hours with a notebook and pencil, staring out the window, thinking.
“You know what to do with a boy who is too in his head, River.”
“I know what to do with a sub, but Kacey…” Kacey was not a sub. Or, he had potential, but he didn’t know he was a sub.
Something like that.
“Well, if he’s not a sub, then he’s not right for you.”
“It’s not that black and white, Clint.”
“You need a submissive. If you’re interested in making him a lover, then he’ll have to understand you have needs he can’t
meet.”
“You know I don’t do that.” He couldn’t do that to Kacey—or anyone—that was why he was chronically single. The Dom
in him had won that battle long ago. He sighed. “That’s not why I called. Thomas and I need your blessing on something else
entirely.”
“Of course. What do you need?” Clint always listened to their requests, even if he denied them.
“Well, Sam and Kacey have something to work out, and we want to bring them Home to do it.” Their club, Sin Deep, was
referred to more often as Home by its members for good reason.
“Are they going to indulge in fisticuffs?”
“I’d like to say no, but anything is possible. Texas cowboys…” He chuckled. He didn’t think Thomas would allow it, and
Kacey’s fingers were just finally healing.
“Tommy is rather firm about Dr. O’Reilly fighting, so I’ll just assume you will be responsible for your boy, yes?”
“I heard that, Clint.” He snorted. “Yes, I’ll be responsible for Kacey. But since he’s not a member, we wanted to be sure to
get your permission.”
“I trust you both, and I will admit to a hint of curiosity, although between Tommy, Winter, and you, I’m concerned we’re
becoming a cowboy bar.”
Good grief, Clint was right. “Harley is Texan too.” Ha. Maybe Harley could mediate. “Well, maybe we should start calling
it ‘Down Home’.” He chuckled.
“Yes, that isn’t going to happen. There might be a tiny boom of displaced Texans. We’ll adjust.”
River laughed. “Adjusting is what we do, my friend. We’re always adjusting.” Nothing as unpredictable as a sub except
several in the same place at the same time.
“That’s our lot in life.” Clint’s overly dramatic voice made him chuckle.
“All right. Well, I think we’ll all be by this evening. I’ll reserve a room in case we need it. Thank you.” River was ready to
end this conversation; he didn’t need any more of Clint’s wisdom about whether Kacey was someone he should pursue. It was
too damn late for that.
Kacey was his. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but it was true.
What was even more true was he was Kacey’s.
“See you tonight.”
Clint sounded amused, but River didn’t take the bait. He hung up, finished sniffing the whiskey he’d poured with no
intention of drinking, and texted Thomas.
RIVER
We’re on for tonight. Time?

THOMAS
Late enough for the club to be busy so Kacey has something to look at? Or early enough that we can slip
out before he sees much?

Great question.
RIVER
Eight. Best of both worlds?

They’d get in early enough that Kacey wouldn’t be too distracted but leave late enough to give the boy a taste of the life.
THOMAS
Done. See you then.

He grinned and got out of his chair to go in search of the boy, whom he’d left watching TV.
Kacey was sitting on the floor, hunched over and busily writing something, pencil just flying.
He quietly moved to the couch and sat, knees knocking gently into Kacey’s shoulder. “Hey. What are you working on?”
“Huh? Just playing.” The notebook was turned over before he could glance more than a beautifully illustrated eye.
“Playing at what?” He combed his fingers through Kacey’s curls. He just couldn’t help himself. “Can I see?”
“It’s just doodling.” Kacey glanced up at him and handed over the notebook, and it was him. It was clearly him, drawn with
skill and care.
He’d met some talented artists along the way, but no one that could capture a person this well. “You call this a doodle? For
real?”
“Yeah…” Kacey blushed near purple and snatched the notebook back. “They aren’t for looking at. They just make me
happy.”
He started to protest but stopped himself. There wasn’t much that made Kacey happy right now, and if River pushed the boy
about how talented he was, he might ruin that too. One day. Not today. “Well, I like it. Your notebook is almost full, so how
about we go for a walk and get you a new one? Maybe get some dinner?”
“Yeah? I’d like that. I used to buy bunches of them to play in when school started because they were on sale.”
River would have to find a real sketchbook for his boy. Something with some texture on the paper. Some good sketching
pencils. The whole thing.
“Cool.” He got up, playing at casual. “And after dinner, I’ll take you over to my club.”
Kacey stood and stretched up tall, bones popping and cracking. “Do I need to wear a good shirt? ’Cause I’ll have to iron
it.”
“Do you mind? I think that would be good.” He would dress a little too. “There’s an iron and board in the closet in the hall
next to your room.”
“Yessir. I’m on it. You need anything pressed while I’m doing mine?”
“No, thank you, I’m good. My dry cleaner does everything for me. Meet you back out here when you’re ready.” He wasn’t
sure what he should wear. He wanted to look the part tonight, but he didn’t want to have to come back and change.
It only took a few minutes before he heard singing coming from Kacey’s bedroom, and it made him chuckle. That was a
happy sound, almost confident.
He found himself feeling a little lighter too. Kacey finally seemed healed up enough to go farther than the immediate
neighborhood, and it was going to be good to get out.
 He pulled on black jeans and a black T-shirt. He didn’t want to overdress for the rest of his day—he assumed Kacey would
be in Wranglers and button-down or crisp tee because that was what Sam wore nearly every time he dressed for something. But
his shirt was fitted and showed off his shoulders and chest and made him feel handsome and powerful.
When he left his room, he found Kacey waiting in the front room, pulling on a pair of boots that were ancient and holey, and
yes, wearing a pair of Wranglers that were two sizes too big and a crisp light-gray button-down.
“Hey, you look great.” Swimming in your jeans, but great. “I like that shirt.” They were going shopping, if not today then
soon. He’d ask Sam where to go.
“Thanks. I do too. It’s my favorite.” Kacey grabbed a folded-up cap and shoved it in his back pocket. “I’m ready when you
are.”
It was nice to see Kacey doing normal things with his hands again. “Great. I’m good to go.” He stuffed his wallet in his
front pocket and grabbed his key, then held the door for Kacey.
“Thank you, sir.” Kacey nodded to him, looking around, so curious.
He stopped them on the sidewalk and let Kacey get a look around. “I love this neighborhood. Come on, this way.” The West
Village had narrow streets and some trees, but it wouldn’t be long before they walked out of it and into bigger, busier streets.
Kacey had the cap on, and was staying up with him, gaze seeming to take everything in like a sponge.
That could be good or bad. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing. Just watching. It’s different than being up there.”
“Yep. It is. It’s a big city.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled, giving Kacey time. “I remember when I first got
here, I was sure I’d made a mistake. I was stuck here for a while because I didn’t have much money, and I kept thinking… okay,
when I have a hundred dollars, I’m outta here. That became two hundred and three… I rented an apartment, I made some
friends, I found some places I liked to go. And then I didn’t want to leave.”
“That’s cool.” Kacey’s nod was quick, sure. “I have some money, but I have to figure how to make it last until I get a job.
There’s got to be something a guy with no real skills that last longer than eight seconds can do.”
His first thought was that Kacey was quite an artist, but he backed off that for now. “If you’re willing to work, there is
plenty to do. You must have some skills. If you’re looking to get into anything specific, let me know. The guys at the club have
all kinds of connections.”
“Thanks. I figure there’s got to be a simple job like stocking at a store or whatever. Something I can’t mess up too bad.”
“That’s easy enough, I bet. Let it wait a little, though, get your head around the city and how you feel about it.” How you
feel about me, the club, my needs and yours… Jesus, he’d gone right off the deep end. He took Kacey’s hand. “I’ve got you
covered for now.”
“You are my guardian angel.” Kacey squeezed his fingers, then whispered. “You gonna get in trouble for this? Holding my
hand.”
He smiled down at Kacey. “Nope. And neither are you. Welcome to New York.”
“Yeah? This is… this is different. Good, but different.” Kacey took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you hurt on my account.”
“That won’t happen.” River pointed to another couple coming toward them on the sidewalk—a cute blond guy and a tall
dark-haired one, also holding hands. “See? Not just us.”
“Makes being into someone a lot easier, huh?” Kacey squeezed his fingers.
That would have been a simple comment if not for the squeeze. So what did that mean? Kacey was into him? Was he
flirting?
River was not a flirt. He didn’t understand flirting. Seduction, sure. Negotiation, no problem. But flirting? Not his strong
suit.
“Mhm.” He squeezed back because he thought Kacey might be expecting that, it seemed like the right thing to do.
“What’s your favorite place here? Do you have one?”
“My club. That’s an easy answer. But I do love to wander in Central Park. I like the big IMAX movie theater. I like the
little dive pizza joint around the corner.”
“That’s cool. Little dive places rock. I used to love my chips and salsa at Dos Salsas.”
“Mmm. I could demolish a plate of nachos. Maybe we should do Mexican for dinner.” They wandered uptown, because he
had a place in mind, an art supply store that all the college kids went to. The place would impress Kacey for sure, hopefully
inspire him some too.
“Yeah? You like Mexican food? I thought y’all just ate bagels and cheesecake…” That drawl was pronounced, the tease
obvious. He loved the way Kacey’s sense of humor was returning.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like a good bagel and schmear.” He laughed and made sure Kacey saw his smile. Kacey needed
more smiles. “And I’m sure the Mexican food here isn’t the same as where you come from, but you can indulge me.”
“As long as there’s chips and salsa, I’m in.” Kacey gave the strangest laugh—a weirdly bitter sound that seemed to come
from nowhere.
He just let that be for a few more minutes as they walked, letting Kacey settle again before he asked. But he had to ask…
that was his job. “Are you okay?”
“Huh? Oh, I was just having thoughts. Nothing that matters.”
Oh, no. He couldn’t let the boy get away with that. He pulled Kacey to the edge of the sidewalk out of the way and looked
at him seriously. “Everything matters. Everything.”
“What? I was just… It’s just…What do you care about my stupid shit? It’s just my dumb brain.”
“I care about you, so I care about your shit. And is that how you talk to yourself? You should be kinder. You’re not stupid at
all.” And if you’re going to be mine, I need to understand you completely.
“Oh, right. I’m an Einstein.” Kacey rolled his eyes. “I was just thinking about how you said how the food wouldn’t be the
same, like I would care. I don’t care. They hate me. Fuck their food.”
He pulled Kacey into a hug. “Damn right, fuck them. Hate has no place in my life or yours. We can have Italian.”
Kacey was stiff for a moment, then made a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. “I love Italian.”
“Pasta is good for the soul.” He didn’t let go. He didn’t care that they were on the street. Kacey needed to know he was
safe with him no matter where they were. “And garlic bread is a gift from the gods.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sorry, man. I’ve never been so… weird. I usually just drink if I feel like this until it goes away.”
“Drinking is for cowards, and you are not a coward.” He had some strong feelings about using alcohol rather than enjoying
it.
“Drinking is for pain relief, like in the old westerns. It’s to smooth the edges.”
“We’re not in an old western. You don’t drink for pain relief or to smooth anything, or you wouldn’t then decide to let
someone kick your ass. Try again, cowboy, because I know better.”
“Oh, not that kind of hurting.” Kacey snorted. “’m a bullrider. Body hurting is like praying, sorta, I think. It’s the soul-
hurting that you can’t fix.”
And this was a conversation that they needed to explore, possibly not on the street.
Possibly not today, either.
“Ah. I think I understand you.” In theory, but Kacey’s brand of soul-hurting was something he was going to have to dig into
eventually. He took a breath, gave Kacey another squeeze, and took his hand again. “So… we were headed to an art supply
store. We’re almost there.”
“Oh yeah? Do you paint and all?” Kacey seemed more than willing to follow along.
“Nope. I don’t paint. I don’t draw. I know how to make a very nice paper airplane though.” He winked at Kacey. “And I
can draw a pig made of circles with chicken legs.”
“Oh, modern art then. Very popular.” Wicked little cowboy.
He chuckled. “Very. I’m a misunderstood artist.” They turned a corner, and the store was right where he remembered, on
the opposite side of the street. From here, it looked like it took up half the block going north and east. It had big two-story
windows and an escalator they could see from the street. And from where they were standing, it looked like the inside was a
riot of color.
“Wow. Wow, look at that! How wild.” There was a vague hunger in Kacey’s eyes.
“Right? I walk by it once in a while, but I’ve never had an excuse to go in. But I have one now.” He tugged Kacey across
the street.
“You’ve never been in? Really?” Kacey followed along, eager now. “We can explore together, then?”
“That’s the plan.” This idea was looking better and better. He knew nothing about art, let alone art supplies, but if it made
Kacey happy and distracted him for a while, he was all in.
Kacey wandered around, peering at brushes and paints, models and watercolors and canvasses. He wasn’t sure the boy
knew anything about them either, but he was curious and tactile.
“Oh, hey. This is your section.” There was an entire wall of sketchbooks and several shelves of pencils and drawing
supplies. River pulled down a hardcover book and handed it to Kacey. “What kind of book do you like best? Something like
this?”
“Oh, this is fancy. Isn’t there something for just doodling? I don’t want to waste this, it’s so neat.” Kacey stroked the paper
inside the sketchbook. “How cool is this?”
“It’s not a waste if you use it. Did you see all the pencils?” He was buying the book, and that was that.
“I know! All different kinds. Did you know there were a bazillion different types? I knew about… a couple-three, but that’s
it.”
“No, I know nothing at all. I mean, I thought a pencil was a pencil. Show me a couple that you like.”
“Well… they got different numbers, and number two is normal, and there ain’t no one, just a B…so I would think 8B, 5B
and—look! Look at all the colors…”
River plucked a couple of each from their little cubbies. “Have they got a box of them or something? An assortment?”
“Yeah, down here. I wonder if they have a low-end set that I could play with, just to experiment.” Kacey bent, and that
sweet ass was right there.
 Right there.
And… he reached out and gave it a little pat.
Mhm. He did that.
Kacey peered at him from between those short, skinny legs. “I felt that.”
Okay, the kid wasn’t pissed, so… “Good to know your ass hasn’t gone numb.”
“Nope. I been lucky and not busted that.” Kacey stood up, a small tin in his hand. “I’ll get this one. It’s not bad, and there’s
an eraser in it. None of these have erasers.”
“Fair enough.” He took the tin from Kacey. “I think there’s a second floor…”
“What do you think is up there?” Kacey’s eyes twinkled, the green and gray and gold so damn pretty. “Wanna guess?”
 11

K acey was full as a tick, and he had a bag with a sketchbook and some pens and pencils. Now they were going to that club—
not the bar where he’d been with Sam, but the other one. The private one.
He wasn’t sure why there’d be a private club when there were bars, but he’d find out. He knew it wasn’t going to be rough
like the dive bar.
That Thomas guy?
Not rough.
“This is the place.” They got out of their Uber, and River offered him an arm. An actual gentleman’s gesture. Just stuck his
elbow out. He didn’t know guys did that kind of thing. “Ready?”
“I am.” He’d been in a billion bars, so there wasn’t anything to worry about, right?
They walked in and someone instantly took his bag of art supplies from him and put it in what looked like a coat room
while people—men—were saying hello to River.
“Welcome, Sir.” The man behind the bar was wearing very little, and what he did have on was made of leather.
“Hello, Deacon. This is Kacey. Kacey, this is Deacon, our head bartender.”
Deacon tipped an invisible top hat at him. “Pleased. Whiskey, Sir?”
“No, waters for both of us. Do you know if Thomas is here yet?”
Oh, man. He didn’t want everybody mad at him…
“River…” he muttered.
“Yes, Sir. He’s at Master Clint’s table.”
“Perfect. Thank you. Send the waters over, please.” River turned his head and murmured to him. “You’re fine, boy. Always
safe with me.”
Okay, but Sam wasn’t loving him right now. Still, he’d just be decent.
He could be decent, mostly. If he tried.
River caught his eye before they approached the table. “Trust me.”
“I do.” Hell, they slept together. That was big. Bigger than being naked. “Swear it.”
That got him one of River’s warm smiles and a nod.
“River, Kacey.” Thomas stood and shook River’s hand first and then his.
“This is your new cowboy?” Clint asked from across the table.
He glanced over, but what he was needing to see was Sam. He didn’t want to fight with him again, but he knew himself.
He was a scrapper.
“Say hello to Master River and Kacey, boy.” Thomas sat, and there was Sam, sitting on a low stool at Thomas’s side.
“Hello, Master River. Kacey.” Sam wouldn’t even look at him, and Kacey wanted to growl, but he didn’t, because Sam
was wearing this see-through shirt that showed nipple rings, and he just… damn.
But as Thomas smoothed a hand over Sam’s back, he could see how tense Sam was, that touch helping him relax a little.
“Sit, please.” Clint gestured to two empty chairs, and River pulled one out for him.
“Thank you, sir.” He nodded and sat, determined not to embarrass River.
 That wasn’t on his to-do list, dammit.
“How was your week, Thomas? Is Sam feeling better?”
“We’ve done some excellent work, and he is much better. Thank you. And Kacey?”
River glanced at Kacey but answered like he wasn’t sitting right there. “Kacey has come a long way this week. I’m proud
of him.”
And he wasn’t sure what he’d done, if he was honest. In fact, he wasn’t sure there was any reason anyone ought to be
proud, but… whatever. He wasn’t going to be a bitch.
“I understand you have a room reserved for Dr. O’Reilly and his friend?”
“We do,” River and Thomas said at the same time, and then laughed together as well.
“Thomas?”
“Ah. Yes. Sam, please take Kacey down to room seven. We’ll join you in a moment.”
“Yes, Master.” Sam stood, jerking his head to Kacey.
Yay. This was where everyone told him he sucked. His favorite!
Sam led him down hallways, and it was a little like a horror movie, where you just got glimpses of things you didn’t
understand, but then the movie moved on.
They stopped at a door that had a 7 on it, and Sam went in, holding the door for him. The room was a big, black box
without a stick of furniture apart from two cushions in the middle of the room about a foot apart and a dark cabinet at the far
end.
“We gonna have a pillow fight?” He couldn’t stop the question for love or money.
“Shut up, Kacey.”
“Hey, it’s a fair question.” His next one was going to be how bad the nipple piercings hurt.
“They’re for kneeling, I assume. We’ve had enough fighting.” Sam went right to one, but he stood behind it rather than
kneeled.
“You… you are okay, right? I mean, you’re good? Because I can help you, if you’re not.” Sam was always going to be his
friend. Always.
Sam blinked at him. “What?”
“Like this whole kneeling thing. He’s not hurting you, is he?”
Sam turned to him, shaking his head immediately. “Fuck no. No, man. He’s my whole world, and I’m willing. I’m here
because I want to be here with him.”
“Okay. If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure. And River is a good man too. When things feel too big, remember I said that. I ain’t gonna lie to you.”
“I just… What do you want from me? I said I was sorry for getting you caught up in that, and I meant it. I’ll leave y’all be.
Is that not enough?” Because if it wasn’t, Kacey didn’t know what else he had.
Sam shook his head. “I accept your apology, Kace, I do. But no, it’s not enough. I don’t want you to leave us be; that’s too
easy. You can’t just walk away. I want you to stay and figure your shit out, man.”
“I’m trying, but that doesn’t answer what we’re doing in here.” And without River, he was feeling a little undone.
“That’s not for me to answer. I’m not sure I know either.”
The door swung open, and Thomas entered, followed by River who closed the door and locked it.
“Kacey,” Thomas said immediately, heading straight for Sam. “Master River is locking the door to keep others out, not to
keep you in. If at any time you want out, you may go.” Thomas looked at Sam and ran his hands over Sam’s shoulders.
“Everything all right, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Mister. I’m fine, thank you.” Sam let Thomas help him down onto the cushion, and the little turd settled with a
peaceful smile.
“Good boy.”
River was at his elbow and rested a hand in the middle of his back. “Did the two of you talk at all?”
“I told him I was sorry, I asked him if he was being hurt or anything, and I told him I’d leave him alone.” That was the short
answer, and the best one, really.
“Okay.” River nodded. “Sam, for Kacey’s benefit, is anything going on at home that you haven’t expressly consented to?”
“No, Sir.”
Sam had been given a chance to argue in private with him and with River, so Kacey had to accept it. Sam was a grown-up,
and he wasn’t stupid at all.
“And, again, for Kacey, how would you describe your relationship to Thomas?”
“He is my Dom, my husband, my lover, my best friend, my world.”
River nodded and there was an affection in his smile. “Thank you, Sam.”
Thomas bent and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
“Sam, do you want Kacey to leave you alone?”
 “No, Sir.”
“So, Kacey.” River was still touching him while he talked, hands moving over his back and arms. “This is what we call a
safe space. You can say anything, ask anything, and there’s no judgment. Just answers, discussion, and anything else you—or
any of us—need.”
“What do y’all want?” He wasn’t sure, exactly, what this was. “Is this, like, an intervention?”
River nodded. “A little bit. I think it’s safe to say we’re your friends now, and we’re all worried about you. Do you know
what Mike said about you? The man who runs the bar you were fighting in? He said he thought you had a death wish.”
He crossed his arms and shrugged. “I’ve been having a hard time.”
And he might talk to River, maybe Sam, but not Thomas. He didn’t know Thomas like that.
River moved in front of him and actually uncrossed his arms to take his hands. “Thank you for that honesty. Tell me what
you mean.”
He searched River’s eyes, and he knew what he wanted to say. “Can’t we just talk? You and me? I trust you.”
“Thank you, boy. I appreciate that. We can, but first you need to give Sam and Thomas a convincing reason why they
shouldn’t worry about you. Or should they?”
“I don’t know what they’re worried about. I didn’t say anything mean. I apologized. I meant it. I offered not to bother Sam
anymore.” Worry about him? No one worried about him. He needed that before he’d made it to New York, not after.
“Tell him what you’re worried about, sweetheart.” Thomas’s tone was firm.
“You’re scaring me. I’m afraid that you’re going to hurt yourself or let someone harm you. You’re out of control.”
“I’m not! Jesus. I’m having a bad fucking life, Sam!”
“Kacey.” River snapped. “Kneel, please.”
Oh, he thought River was on his side. “So I’m in trouble? That’s not fair.”
River sighed. “When did I say that? If you’re in trouble, I’ll tell you. I’ve asked you to kneel. I have a reason, but it’s not
because I’m upset with you.”
“Oh. Okay. Sorry. It felt… mean.” He squeezed River’s hand. He didn’t get it, but River was decent to him, so he’d just go
with it. At some point, River would just tell him what the hell was going on.
“Mm.” River shook his head. “I apologize. We’re still getting to know each other, hm? Would you kneel, please?”
“Yes. Sure.” He settled, faced the same direction as Sam. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just a little weird.
“Good boy.” River walked around behind him, talking softly. “Kacey, your friend was very honest with you just now, and
you shouted at him. Did you hear what he said? He’s afraid you’re going to hurt yourself, or let someone hurt you. He said you
were out of control. And he said it, not to be hurtful, but as a friend who cares about you. So I want you to think about what he
said, not react. Think about the night I brought you home. Think about what you’d gotten yourself into, and Sam along with
you.”
He knew. It was all he thought about until River gave him something else he could focus on. “You ought to know, Sam, more
than anyone, how much I lost.”
“I do. That’s why I’m scared. You’re… you can’t just throw everything away.”
“Yes, I can. I did. I threw everything away.” His job, his sponsors, his lover, his home, his reputation. All of it.
“Did you?” River rested a hand on his shoulder. “Or was it all taken from you?”
“Does that matter?” He wasn’t being a bit sarcastic. “It’s gone, regardless. You got skills, Sam. Things that aren’t bull
riding. Family. I don’t. I’m sorry I involved you in my shit, I am, but you… you were like the guy I could come to when things
went to hell.”
And that had been his big mistake, trying to off-load his shit on someone else. It was his to carry, no one else’s.
“I’m glad you felt I was safe, Kacey. Really. But Master River is right; it does matter. If that asshole hadn’t lied about your
relationship and what you were to each other, you might still have all of those things. It’s not your fault.” Sam wasn’t looking at
him. His eyes were focused on the floor.
Like that mattered. No one was going to give a shit in ten years whose fault it was. So it wasn’t his fault. He was still
where he was. He was still pissed off. It still hurt.
If it had been something evil he’d done, he would have at least deserved this shit. As it was, he just had to figure out why.
“So, Kacey. Are you out of control?” River’s question was quiet and serious. “Do you need help?”
He didn’t know what to say, exactly. So he closed his eyes and thought about it. He probably did, but he didn’t want it from
Sam, not now. It almost felt like a betrayal, although his heart thought that was too big of a word. He just didn’t have anything
better. Maybe that Sam’s life was too full for someone like him.
“Can I talk to you, please? Just you?” He didn’t want to be an asshole. He didn’t want to hurt Sam.
“Stand up, sweetheart, that’s our cue.” Thomas offered Sam a hand up.
“Thank you, Sam. Thomas, I’ll be in touch. Thanks for coming tonight.”
Thank God that someone heard him. Weird that it was Sam’s Thomas, but he’d take it with thanks. There were other words,
but he didn’t listen. He was just going to take a second to breathe.
 The door opened and closed, and River turned the lock again. “We’re alone now, boy.”
“Thanks. I just… Sam don’t need my shit right now. I’ll talk to you.” River seemed like his shoulders had room right now
for the hard truths.
“Sam cares about you. But I understand, and I’m here for you. Are you comfortable where you are?”
“Yeah, if it’s not weird for you, I guess. The cushion deal is… cushiony.” And he was settled.
“Good. I like you there.” River walked around behind him, hands landing on his shoulders and adding a little pressure.
“Talk, boy. Tell me what I need to know. I’m listening.”
Those hands grounded him to the floor so he could just talk. “You asked if I need help, and I think I do, because I’m fucked
up, but I don’t want it from Sam for a whole lot of reasons.”
Those ranged from “because I’m mad at him” to “because he can’t deal with it” to “because we fuck each other up.”
“I see. Well, I don’t think Sam was offering, honestly. I don’t think he’s capable of helping you.”
“No. No, me either, and that’s cool. I shouldn’t have come to him. It wasn’t right.” But it’s what he did. So, he just had to
live with that.
“Oh, no. I disagree. He was a safe place to go. Several of his friends have done the same thing. It’s one of his superpowers,
I think. And if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have met.” River knelt right behind him. “I think we can help each other.”
His lips parted, but for a second, he couldn’t inhale.
Each other.
Not I can help you.
We can help each other.
He grabbed onto those words with his whole soul, because he wanted to be… working toward something, part of
something, not just a victim.
“You do?”
“Well, I hope so, yes. In time. If you’re patient.” River pressed a light kiss to his nape, then stood.
“I want to.” Was he supposed to stand up now? He hated not knowing what to do. “What do you want?”
“A lot. I want a lot. But I think it might be what you need too. Why don’t you stand, Kacey?” River offered him a hand, just
like Thomas had for Sam.
 12

River stood in the near-empty playroom with Kacey, part of him was thinking, be careful what you wish for. He had
A sKacey’s attention and the boy’s trust, and it was time to figure out exactly what to do with it. The other part of him was
repeating Noel’s words over and over: you know what to do with a boy who is too in his head, River.
He knew. Kacey wasn’t going to like it, but he knew.
“I need you to tell me what happened. Who he was, who he was to you, how it all went down.”
“He… he was… I thought he was my lover. We’d been together a few years. I was blowing him when someone walked in
the hotel room. He started acting drunk, said I drugged and forced him. They beat me up, threw me out. The official story is that
I was disaffiliated for acting inappropriately. Sponsors are gone; I got what I left with and my bank account. The end.”
There was an emptiness there, a dullness, like his boy had repeated those words in his head a hundred times.
“Just the facts, hm?” River crossed the room to the cabinet and opened it up. There were plenty of light restraints and low-
impact tools in it, but for now, he only pulled out a blindfold. He took it back to the center of the room where Kacey was
waiting for him. “Close your eyes, boy.”
“Okay.” Kacey looked at him curiously, then closed them, and he tied the blindfold in place.
“Good boy. You can’t see me, but I’m not going to leave the room. Describe your lover to me.”
“Do I have to? I don’t want to think about him ever again.”
Poor boy. But there was some work to be done. “You have to think about him long enough to let him go. Tell me how you
feel about him now.”
“I hate the motherfucker. I want to hurt him as bad as he hurt me. Worse.” Kacey’s hands tried to curl into tight fists, but they
weren’t healed enough for that yet.
“Of course you do. I would too.” River had to wonder if the guy was actually an asshole, or if he was terrified of losing
everything too. Not that it mattered anymore; that one lie had landed Kacey where he was now. “But you won’t be able to, and
hate is a heavy load to bear.”
Kacey nodded, head dipping like it was too weighted to hold up. “It is, but I’m not a good man like that. A man of God
could just forgive and forget, but I can’t. I got hurt deep in my heart.”
He rested a hand on Kacey’s chest, just over his heart. “You don’t need to be a man of God to heal that.”
“I hope so, but I don’t know how. I don’t know hardly any hows anymore.”
“You don’t have to. That’s my job. All you need to do is stay honest, which sounds easy, but I know it’s not always. How
do you feel about the blindfold?”
“It’s okay. It’s soft.” Kacey exhaled long and slow. “It’s like talking in the dark.”
Talking in the dark.
Part of him really felt like all he had to do was take Kacey to bed with him, and all would be well. He’d love to have a
good long talk in the dark with the boy all wrung out and resting in his arms.
They’d made passes, there had been a little innuendo, but River didn’t want to take advantage. He needed something. Buy-
in. An understanding. Something explicit… first.
“I’m glad you heard me, about just it being you. I needed you to hear me.”
 “It isn’t hard to listen, boy. And you were very clear. Sam needed to be heard too. That’s why he was here.” He got the
impression Kacey hadn’t spoken up much in his former life.
“Yeah, I guess. Hopefully, he got what he needed.” There was a hint of bitterness in the boy’s voice.
He was determined to put that friendship back together, and unfortunately that lay squarely on Kacey’s shoulders. “I’m not
sure he did, entirely. Tell me why you’re upset with Sam.”
It took four or five breaths before Kacey rumbled. “’m not. I’m fucking jealous of him, and I hate it.”
That confession really shouldn’t have made him smile; the poor boy was dealing with such difficult emotions. It did,
though, because he knew he could help. He was already trying. “I understand. Sam is a remarkable man, and he has found an
enviable life. But he was where you are now for a while—different circumstances of course, but alone and lost all the same.
You’re already on a better path, boy. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, until I fuck it up. That’s the worst part, knowing you’re not going to be able to make it work. I just… shit, man. I was
trying, and all my eggs were in that basket. Even if I’d been hurt bad, there would have been… Oh, it don’t matter.” Kacey
blew out a hard breath. “All that matters is that I’m here, and you don’t want me to go yet.”
River swallowed hard against a sudden need to pull Kacey into his arms and show him how much he wanted the boy to
stay. It was going to happen, but the timing had to be… just right.
He helped Kacey sit on the floor and sat with him, taking a deep breath to make sure he was settled. “I can take that burden
from you, boy. You just have to trust me so we can move forward together. I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go. I like you. You got a horseman’s energy.”
He took Kacey’s hands firmly in his hands and held them down on the floor. “What does that mean?”
Kacey arched his back a little, testing his grip, then exhaled and leaned in toward River just a bit. “You ever met a person
that could walk in a pen with a horse that was losing his shit, just bucking and biting and kicking, and they can stand there and
be, and that critter just eases? That’s the man that can train them to bridle and harness, can get them to wear a saddle and
blanket, even when no one else can. It’s not breaking, it’s—I don’t know. But you got that. You ain’t got a horse, but that would
be tough in your apartment…”
He held firm without explaining himself, keeping Kacey’s hands pinned to the floor. “One could argue you were just as
wild, boy. Drinking and fighting. Arguing with people you know are your friends. Cautiously keeping one foot out the door,
even though you have a safe home.”
That earned him another tug, harder this time, but his grip was rewarded with more of that heady relaxation. “Maybe more,
but you got to admit I apologized to Sam. I said what I did wrong, and I am sorry I got him hurt.”
“You did, and I know he heard you. Of course, your plan was to apologize and never speak to him again. Running away
isn’t the right answer.”
“How do you know? It might be best for him…” Kacey’s question surprised him—not because he asked it, but because of
the tone. It was a question, not rhetorical, not sarcastic. Simply an honest question.
His boy did test his grip again, though.
“That’s not for you to decide. You don’t know what’s best for Sam. Only he and his Master can decide that.” That test was
his to fail now. He pressed down a little harder so Kacey knew he was paying attention.
Kacey sighed softly, frowning deep. “I don’t know what to believe. I really don’t. It sounds like… I don’t understand what
I’m supposed to be.”
“Be mine.” He was careful not to make his words either a question or a demand, just a simple suggestion. “All the
questions, the decisions, the worry will become unnecessary.”
Kacey’s breath sped, his boy tensing, beginning to shake. “Don’t tease me. That’s not fair…”
He moved his hands to Kacey’s wrists and gripped them tightly, then lifted them, sitting Kacey upright. “Boy. Have I ever?
I’m very serious. But you have to understand that when I say mine, I mean everything. Every bit of you. I want your thoughts,
your time, your secrets, your body. All of it. Ask your questions. Make sure you understand.”
“Why me?” Oh, there was a load of meaning in those two little words.
It might have been a hard question to ask, but the answer was easy. “Because I need someone who needs me. Because I like
you. Because you’re beautiful.”
The blush was dark, deep, and a tear escaped from the blindfold, but Kacey’s voice was relatively calm when he asked,
“What happens next?”
What I’ve been waiting for.
He’d been given beautiful gifts before by earnest subs, and he’d had more than one incredible Top’s high. But he’d never
felt a rush like this one. He was glad he was sitting down because the pounding of his heart and the roar in his ears made him
lightheaded.
He tugged Kacey closer by the wrists and kissed him.
Kissing Kacey was like connecting with a live wire, electricity buzzing through him like a swarm of bees. Kacey’s fingers
twisted into his clothes, holding him tight.
 When he felt himself getting lost in the sensation, he broke it off so they could breathe and he could figure out what the hell
had just happened. He let go of Kacey’s wrists, not surprised or concerned that he’d left bruises, and removed the blindfold.
He wiped away the damp tears hidden under the leather and kissed Kacey’s forehead. “My boy.”
“I can go home with you.” It wasn’t a question.
He smiled, making sure Kacey saw it. “You have to go home with me.”
He stood up and offered the—his boy—a hand up.

THEY HEADED HOME without a beer or saying much of anything. It was quiet, but not ugly, and Kacey had his art supplies in the
hand that River wasn’t holding.
His brain was exhausted, he thought, but that was okay. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be all perky. Today had been heavy,
hard in a few ways.
He’d kissed River.
That had been hard in a totally different way.
A chuckle wanted out, so bad.
“Welcome home,” River said as he opened the door to the apartment. “After you.”
“Thank you.” It felt… bigger this time. More important. Heavier.
River locked the door. “Why don’t you put your art supplies away and get comfy?”
“Yessir.” He headed into his room, put the supplies away, and slipped his boots off. Then, whoa, dirty socks. Nasty.
He slipped those off and headed into the living room, barefooted.
He didn’t find River there, and he waited a minute unsure what he was supposed to do next.
“Kacey.” River appeared in the doorway to his bedroom wearing sweatpants and… sweatpants. “Come on.”
Damn, that man was too fine for color TV. “Coming. Sorry, I didn’t know what you wanted.”
“I know. I didn’t tell you.” River held a hand out and smiled at him. “I did say get comfy, though. Did you need help with
your jeans?”
“Oh… I—” He chuckled softly. He’d been so concerned with his gross socks he hadn’t thought about the rest of the rest.
“I’m not all the way with it.”
River pulled him in as soon as he got close enough and his cheek pressed right up against a broad chest, and fuzzy, warm
skin. “This was a very good day. Thank you.”
“Oh.” He kissed River’s chest, the scent of River making his eyes cross. No day would ever be like today was. It was
impossible. “Thank you.”
River let go and stepped out of the way. “Come on in.”
The room was big and had a platform bed with a thick comforter against a black slate wall. The other walls were different
shades of gray, and one wall had a couple of big windows with heavy curtains and a view of a river beyond the rooftops.
“Let’s get you out of your jeans.”
“You got a pretty room.” He opened his belt, catching the jeans before the weight of the buckle dragged them clean off.
“Thank you.” River took them as soon as he got them off and laid them over a bench, then pulled him toward the bed. “Why
are your jeans so big?”
“Because they were my work jeans, so they were loose, and I’ve lost a little weight in the last few weeks.” Simple as that.
“We’re going to go shopping.” River threw back the comforter and climbed in, then waved him over. “Another day. Tonight
I just want to… be. Talk. Explore a little.”
“Yes. Please.” They’d just come back. He wanted to be, just like River said. Shopping for clothes was… the least fun thing
ever.
River helped him settle so they were mostly sitting up in the pillows. “You did very well at the club tonight. You worked
hard. You were honest. You trusted me, which is a gift, you know.”
“I—” Talking in the dark. He was good at that. “I wanted it to be you. I believe that you won’t… use it against me, my
hurting. I’m not saying Sam and Thomas would, but I’m saying I believe you won’t.”
River took a breath in and let it out slowly, but answered just as he was thinking he should worry. “Use it against you…
how? In what way? And please remember, this is a private conversation. I’m listening, I’m not judging. Nothing you say will
be wrong or upset me. I’m just trying to understand you.”
He thought that was pretty clear, to be honest, but he’d try again. “You know how it is, when things get dirty, like really
you’re fighting, and then all the private stuff comes up that someone can use? Like ‘you’re queer’ or ‘you cry at sad movies’ or
‘sometimes you get scared’ of well… whatever.” He wasn’t admitting to being scared. “It’s nasty, but it can happen, and right
now, I got a lot of hurting that someone could use against me.”
“Ah. Well, that won’t happen. Not with me and thank you for that trust. But it won’t happen with anyone at the club either,
Another random document with
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 PLATE XLVII

YELLOW LOOSESTRIFE.—L. stricta.

——— ———
Steironema ciliatum. Primrose Family.

Stem.—Erect, two to four feet high. Leaves.—Opposite, narrowly oval, on

fringed leaf-stalks. Flowers.—Yellow, on slender stalks from the axils of the leaves.
Calyx.—Deeply five-parted. Corolla.—Deeply five-lobed, wheel-shaped, yellow,
with a reddish centre. Stamens.—Five. Pistil.—One.
This plant is nearly akin to the yellow loosestrifes, but
unfortunately it has no English name. It abounds in low grounds and
thickets, putting forth its bright wheel-shaped blossoms early in July.
 Common Barberry.
Berberis vulgaris. Barberry Family.

A shrub. Leaves.—Oblong, toothed, in clusters from the axil of a thorn.

Flowers.—Yellow, in drooping racemes. Calyx.—Of six sepals, with from two to six
bractlets without. Corolla.—Of six petals. Stamens.—Six. Pistil.—One. Fruit.—An
oblong scarlet berry.
This European shrub has now become thoroughly wild and very
plentiful in parts of New England. The drooping yellow flowers of
May and June are less noticeable than the oblong clustered berries of
September, which light up so many overgrown lanes, and often
decorate our lawns and gardens as well.
The ancients extracted a yellow hair-dye from the barberry; and
to-day it is used to impart a yellow color to wool. Both its common
and botanical names are of Arabic origin.

Yellow Star-grass.
Hypoxis erecta. Amaryllis Family.

Scapes.—Slender, few-flowered. Leaves.—Linear, grass-like, hairy. Flowers.—

Yellow. Perianth.—Six-parted, spreading, the divisions hairy and greenish outside,
yellow within. Stamens.—Six. Pistil.—One.
When our eyes fall upon what looks like a bit of evening sky set
with golden stars, but which proves to be only a piece of shaded turf
gleaming with these pretty flowers, we recall Longfellow’s musical
lines:
Spake full well in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth on the castled Rhine,
When he called the flowers so blue and golden,
Stars, which in earth’s firmament do shine.

The plant grows abundantly in open woods and meadows,

flowering in early summer.
 PLATE XLVIII

YELLOW STAR-GRASS.—H. erecta.

Wild Indigo.
Baptisia tinctoria. Pulse Family (p. 16).

Two or three feet high. Stems.—Smooth and slender. Leaves.—Divided into

three rounded leaflets, somewhat pale with a whitish bloom, turning black in
drying. Flowers.—Papilionaceous, yellow, clustered in many short, loose racemes.
This rather bushy-looking, bright-flowered plant is constantly
encountered in our rambles throughout the somewhat dry and sandy
parts of the country in midsummer. It is said that it is found in
nearly every State in the Union, and that it has been used as a
homœopathic remedy for typhoid fever. Its young shoots are eaten at
times in place of asparagus. Both the botanical and common names
refer to its having yielded an economical but unsuccessful substitute
for indigo.
 Yellow Clover. Hop Clover.
Trifolium agrarium. Pulse Family (p. 16).

Six to twelve inches high. Leaves.—Divided into three oblong leaflets. Flowers.
—Papilionaceous, yellow, small, in close heads.
Although this little plant is found in such abundance along our
New England roadsides and in many other parts of the country as
well, comparatively few people seem to recognize it as a member of
the clover group, despite a marked likeness in the leaves and
blossoms to others of the same family.
The name clover probably originated in the Latin clava-clubs, in
reference to the fancied resemblance between the three-pronged club
of Hercules and the clover leaf. The clubs of our playing-cards and
the trèfle (trefoil) of the French are probably an imitation of the
same leaf.
The nonesuch, Medicago lupulina, with downy, procumbent
stems, and flowers which grow in short spikes, is nearly allied to the
hop clover. In its reputed superiority as fodder its English name is
said to have originated. Dr. Prior says that for many years this plant
has been recognized in Ireland as the true shamrock.

Dyer’s Green-weed. Wood-waxen. New England Whin.

Genista tinctoria. Pulse Family (p. 16).

A shrubby plant from one to two feet high. Leaves.—Lance-shaped. Flowers.—

Papilionaceous, yellow, growing in spiked racemes.
This is another foreigner which has established itself in Eastern
New York and Massachusetts, where it covers the barren hill-sides
with its yellow flowers in early summer. It is a common English
plant, formerly valued for the yellow dye which it yielded. It is an
undesirable intruder in pasture-lands, as it gives a bitter taste to the
milk of cows which feed upon it.

Yellow Sweet Clover. Yellow Melilot.

Melilotus officinalis. Pulse Family (p. 16).
 Two to four feet high. Stem.—Upright. Leaves.—Divided into three toothed
leaflets. Flowers.—Papilionaceous, yellow, growing in spike-like racemes.
This plant is often found blossoming along the roadsides in early
summer. It was formerly called in England “king’s-clover,” because,
as Parkinson writes, “the yellowe flowers doe crown the top of the
stalkes.” The leaves become fragrant in drying.

Rattlebox.
Crotalaria sagittalis. Pulse Family (p. 16).

Stem.—Hairy, three to six inches high. Leaves.—Undivided, oval or lance-

shaped. Flowers.—Papilionaceous, yellow, but few in a cluster. Pod.—Inflated,
many-seeded, blackish.
The yellow flowers of the rattlebox are found in the sandy
meadows and along the roadsides during the summer. Both the
generic and English names refer to the rattling of the loose seeds
within the inflated pod.

Butter-and-Eggs. Toadflax.
Linaria vulgaris. Figwort Family.

Stem.—Smooth, erect, one to three feet high. Leaves.—Alternate, linear or

nearly so. Flowers.—Of two shades of yellow, growing in terminal racemes. Calyx.
—Five-parted. Corolla.—Pale yellow tipped with orange, long-spurred, two-lipped,
closed in the throat. Stamens.—Four. Pistil.—One.
The bright blossoms of butter-and-eggs grow in full, close
clusters which enliven the waste places along the roadside so
commonly, that little attention is paid to these beautiful and
conspicuous flowers. They would be considered a “pest” if they did
not display great discrimination in their choice of locality, usually
selecting otherwise useless pieces of ground. The common name of
butter-and-eggs is unusually appropriate, for the two shades of
yellow match perfectly their namesakes. Like nearly all our common
weeds, this plant has been utilized in various ways by the country
people. It yielded what was considered at one time a valuable skin
lotion, while its juice mingled with milk constitutes a fly-poison. Its
generic name, Linaria, and its English title, toadflax, arose from a
fancied resemblance between its leaves and those of the flax.

Wild Senna.
Cassia Marilandica. Pulse Family.

Stem.—Three or four feet high. Leaves.—Divided into from six to nine pairs of
narrowly oblong leaflets. Flowers.—Yellow, in short clusters from the axils of the
leaves. Calyx.—Of five sepals. Corolla.—Of five slightly unequal, spreading petals,
usually somewhat spotted with reddish-brown. Stamens.—Five to ten, unequal,
some of them often imperfect. Pistil.—One. Pod.—Long and narrow, slightly
curved, flat.
This tall, striking plant, with clusters of yellow flowers which
appear in midsummer, grows abundantly along many of the New
England roadsides, and also far south and west, thriving best in
sandy soil. Although a member of the Pulse family its blossoms are
not papilionaceous.
 PLATE XLIX

BUTTER-AND-EGGS.—L. vulgaris.

Partridge-pea.
Cassia Chamæcrista. Pulse Family.

Stems.—Spreading, eight inches to a foot long. Leaves.—Divided into from ten

to fifteen pairs of narrow delicate leaflets, which close at night and are somewhat
sensitive to the touch. Flowers.—Yellow, rather large and showy, on slender stalks
beneath the spreading leaves; not papilionaceous. Calyx.—Of five sepals. Corolla.
—Of five rounded, spreading, somewhat unequal petals, two or three of which are
usually spotted at the base with red or purple. Stamens.—Ten, unequal, dissimilar.
Pistil.—One, with a slender style. Pod.—Flat.
 The partridge-pea is closely related to the wild senna, and a
pretty, delicate plant it is, with graceful foliage, and flowers in late
summer which surprise us with their size, abounding in gravelly,
sandy places where little else will flourish, brightening the railway
embankments and the road’s edge. It is at home all over the country
south of Massachusetts and east of the Rocky Mountains, but it
grows with a greater vigor and luxuriance in the south than
elsewhere. The leaves can hardly be called sensitive to the touch, yet
when a branch is snapped from the parent-stem or is much handled,
the delicate leaflets will droop and fold, displaying their curious
mechanism.

Common St. John’s-wort.

Hypericum perforatum. St. John’s-wort Family.

Stem.—Much branched. Leaves.—Small, opposite, somewhat oblong, with

pellucid dots. Flowers.—Yellow, numerous, in leafy clusters. Calyx.—Of five sepals.
Corolla.—Of five bright yellow petals, somewhat spotted with black. Stamens.—
Indefinite in number. Pistil.—One, with three spreading styles.
“Too well known as a pernicious weed which it is difficult to
extirpate,” is the scornful notice which the botany gives to this plant
whose bright yellow flowers are noticeable in waste fields and along
roadsides nearly all summer. Its rank, rapid growth proves very
exhausting to the soil, and every New England farmer wishes it had
remained where it rightfully belongs—on the other side of the water.
 PLATE L

COMMON ST. JOHN’S-WORT.—H.

perforatum.

Perhaps more superstitions have clustered about the St. John’s-

wort than about any other plant on record. It was formerly gathered
on St. John’s eve, and was hung at the doors and windows as a
safeguard against thunder and evil spirits. A belief prevailed that on
this night the soul had power to leave the body and visit the spot
where it would be finally summoned from its earthly habitation,
hence the all-night vigils which were observed at that time.
The wonderful herb whose leaf will decide
If the coming year shall make me a bride,
is the St. John’s-wort, and the maiden’s fate is favorably forecast by
the healthy growth and successful blossoming of the plant which she
has accepted as typical of her future.
In early times poets and physicians alike extolled its properties.
An ointment was made of its blossoms, and one of its early names
was “balm-of-the-warrior’s-wound.” It was considered so efficacious
a remedy for melancholia that it was termed “fuga dæmonum.” Very
possibly this name gave rise to the general idea that it was powerful
in dispelling evil spirits.

St. Andrew’s Cross.

Ascyrum Crux-Andreæ. St. John’s-wort Family.

Stem.—Low, branched. Leaves.—Opposite, narrowly oblong, black-dotted.

Flowers.—Light-yellow. Calyx.—Of four sepals, the two outer broad and leaf-like,
the inner much smaller. Corolla.—Of four narrowly oblong petals. Stamens.—
Numerous. Pistil.—One, with two short styles.
From July till September these flowers may be found in the
pine-barrens of New Jersey and farther south and westward, and on
the island of Nantucket as well.

Common Mullein.
Verbascum Thapsus. Figwort Family.

Stem.—Tall and stout, from three to five feet high. Leaves.—Oblong, woolly.
Flowers.—In a long dense spike. Calyx.—Five-parted. Corolla.—Yellow, with five
slightly unequal rounded lobes. Stamens.—Ten, the three upper with white wool
on their filaments. Pistil.—One.
 PLATE LI

COMMON MULLEIN.—V. Thapsus.

The common mullein is a native of the island of Thapsos, from

which it takes its specific name. It was probably brought to this
country from Europe by the early colonists, notwithstanding the title
of “American velvet plant,” which it is rumored to bear in England.
The Romans called it “candelaria,” from their custom of dipping the
long dried stalk in suet and using it as a funeral torch, and the Greeks
utilized the leaves for lamp-wicks. In more modern times they have
served as a remedy for the pulmonary complaints of men and beasts
alike, “mullein tea” being greatly esteemed by country people. Its
especial efficacy with cattle has earned the plant its name of
“bullocks’ lungwort.”
A low rosette of woolly leaves is all that can be seen of the
mullein during its first year, the yellow blossoms on their long spikes
opening sluggishly about the middle of the second summer. It
abounds throughout our dry, rolling meadows, and its tall spires are
a familiar feature in the summer landscape.

Moth Mullein.
Verbascum Blattaria. Figwort Family.

Stem.—Tall and slender. Leaves.—Oblong, toothed, the lower sometimes lyre-

shaped, the upper partly clasping. Flowers.—Yellow or white, tinged with red or
purple, in a terminal raceme. Calyx.—Deeply five-parted. Corolla.—Butterfly-
shape, of five rounded, somewhat unequal lobes. Stamens.—Five, with filaments
bearded with violet wool and anthers loaded with orange-colored pollen. Pistil.—
One.
Along the highway from July till October one encounters a
slender weed on whose erect stem it would seem as though a number
of canary-yellow or purplish-white moths had alighted for a
moment’s rest. These are the fragile, pretty flowers of the moth
mullein, and they are worthy of a closer examination. The reddened
or purplish centre of the corolla suggests the probability of hidden
nectar, while the pretty tufts of violet wool borne by the stamens are
well fitted to protect it from the rain. A little experience of the canny
ways of these innocent-looking flowers lead one to ask the wherefore
of every new feature.

Yellow Fringed Orchis. Orange Orchis.

Habenaria ciliaris. Orchis Family (p. 17).

Stem.—Leafy, one to two feet high. Leaves.—The lower oblong to lance-

shaped, the upper passing into pointed bracts. Flowers.—Deep orange color, with a
slender spur and deeply fringed lip; growing in an oblong spike.
 PLATE LII

YELLOW FRINGED ORCHIS.—H.

ciliaris.

Years may pass without our meeting this the most brilliant of
our orchids. Suddenly one August day we will chance upon just such
a boggy meadow as we have searched in vain a hundred times, and
will behold myriads of its deep orange, dome-like spires erecting
themselves in radiant beauty over whole acres of land. The separate
flowers, with their long spurs and deeply fringed lips, will repay a
close examination. They are well calculated, massed in such brilliant
clusters, to arrest the attention of whatever insects may specially
affect them. Although I have watched many of these plants I have
never seen an insect visit one, and am inclined to think that they are
fertilized by night moths.
Mr. Baldwin declares: “If I ever write a romance of Indian life,
my dusky heroine, Birch Tree or Trembling Fawn, shall meet her
lover with a wreath of this orchis on her head.”

Jewel-Weed. Touch-me-not.
Geranium Family.

Impatiens pallida. Pale Touch-me-not.

Flowers.—Pale yellow, somewhat spotted with reddish-brown; common

northward.

Impatiens fulva. Spotted Touch-me-not.

Flowers.—Orange-yellow, spotted with reddish-brown; common southward.

Two to six feet high. Leaves.—Alternate, coarsely toothed, oval. Flowers.—
Nodding, loosely clustered, or growing from the axils of the leaves. Calyx and
Corolla.—Colored alike, and difficult to distinguish; of six pieces, the largest one
extended backward into a deep sac ending in a little spur, the two innermost
unequally two-lobed. Stamens.—Five, very short, united over the pistil. Pistil.—
One.
These beautiful plants are found along shaded streams and
marshes, and are profusely hung with brilliant jewel-like flowers
during the summer months. In the later year they bear those closed
inconspicuous blossoms which fertilize in the bud and are called
cleistogamous flowers. The jewel-weed has begun to appear along
the English rivers, and it is said that the ordinary showy blossoms
are comparatively rare, while the cleistogamous ones abound. Does
not this look almost like a determination on the part of the plant to
secure a firm foothold in its new environment before expending its
energy on flowers which, though radiant and attractive, are quite
dependent on insect-visitors for fertilization and perpetuation?
 PLATE LIII

PALE JEWEL-WEED.—I. pallida.

The name touch-me-not refers to the seed-pods, which burst

open with such violence when touched, as to project their seeds to a
comparatively great distance. This ingenious mechanism secures the
dispersion of the seeds without the aid of the wind or animals. In
parts of New York the plant is called “silver-leaf,” from its silvery
appearance when touched with rain or dew, or when held beneath
the water.

Agrimony.
Agrimonia Eupatoria. Rose Family.
 One or two feet high. Leaves.—Divided into several coarsely toothed leaflets.
Flowers.—Small, yellow, in slender spiked racemes. Calyx.—Five-cleft, beset with
hooked teeth. Corolla.—Of five petals. Stamens.—Five to fifteen. Pistils.—One to
four.
The slender yellow racemes of the agrimony skirt the woods
throughout the later summer. In former times the plant was held in
high esteem by town physician and country herbalist alike. Emerson
longed to know
Only the herbs and simples of the wood,
Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain, and agrimony.

Up to a recent date the plant has been dried and preserved by

country people and might be seen exposed for sale in the shops of
French villages. It has also been utilized in a dressing for shoe-
leather. When about to flower it yields a pale yellow dye.
Chaucer calls it egremoine. The name is supposed to be derived
from the Greek title for an eye-disease, for which the juice of a plant
similarly entitled was considered efficacious. The crushed flower
yields a lemon-like odor.

Yellow Wood Sorrel.

Oxalis stricta. Geranium Family.

Stem.—Erect. Leaves.—Divided into three delicate clover-like leaflets.

Flowers.—Golden-yellow. Calyx.—Of five sepals. Corolla.—Of five petals. Stamens.
—Ten. Pistil.—One, with five styles.
All summer the small flowers of the yellow wood sorrel show
brightly against their background of delicate leaves. The plant varies
greatly in its height and manner of growth, flourishing abundantly
along the roadsides. The small leaflets are open to the genial
influence of sun and air during the hours of daylight, but at night
they protect themselves from chill by folding one against another.

Sundrops.
Œnothera fruticosa. Evening Primrose Family.
 This is a day-blooming species of the evening primrose, with large, pale yellow
blossoms and alternate oblong or narrowly lance-shaped leaves, and of a much less
rank habit. In early summer our roadsides are illuminated with these flowers.
Œnothera pumila is also a diurnal species. Its loosely spiked
blossoms are much smaller than those of the sundrops.

Evening Primrose.
Œnothera biennis. Evening Primrose Family.

Stout, erect, one to five feet high. Leaves.—Alternate, lance-shaped to oblong.

Flowers.—Pale yellow, in a leafy spike, opening at night. Calyx.—With a long tube,
four-lobed. Corolla.—Of four somewhat heart-shaped petals. Stamens.—Eight,
with long anthers. Pistil.—One, with a stigma divided into four linear lobes.
Along the roadsides in midsummer we notice a tall, rank-
growing plant, which seems chiefly to bear buds and faded blossoms.
And unless we are already familiar with the owl-like tendencies of
the evening primrose, we are surprised, some dim twilight, to find
this same plant resplendent with a mass of fragile yellow flowers,
which are exhaling their faint delicious fragrance on the evening air.
One brief summer night exhausts the vitality of these delicate
blossoms. The faded petals of the following day might serve as a text
for a homily against all-night dissipation, did we not know that by its
strange habit the evening primrose guards against the depredations
of those myriad insects abroad during the day, which are unfitted to
transmit its pollen to the pistil of another flower.
We are impressed by the utilitarianism in vogue in this floral
world, as we note that the pale yellow of these blossoms gleams so
vividly through the darkness as to advertise effectively their
whereabouts, while their fragrance serves as a mute invitation to the
pink night-moth, which is their visitor and benefactor. Why they
change their habits in the late year and remain open during the day, I
have not been able to discover.

Horse Balm. Rich-weed. Stone-root.

Collinsonia Canadensis. Mint Family (p. 16).
 One to three feet high. Leaves.—Opposite, large, ovate, toothed, pointed.
Flowers.—Yellowish, lemon-scented, clustered loosely. Calyx.—Two-lipped, the
upper lip three-toothed, the lower two-cleft. Corolla.—Elongated, somewhat two-
lipped, the four upper lobes nearly equal, the lower large and long, toothed or
fringed. Stamens.—Two (sometimes four, the upper pair shorter), protruding,
diverging. Pistil.—One, with a two-lobed style.
In the damp rich woods of midsummer these strong-scented
herbs, with their loose terminal clusters of lemon-colored, lemon-
scented flowers are abundant. The plant was introduced into
England by the amateur botanist and flower-lover, Collinson, after
whom the species is named. The Indians formerly employed it as an
application to wounds.

Black-eyed Susan. Cone-flower.

Rudbeckia hirta. Composite Family (p. 13).

Stem.—Stout and hairy, one to two feet high. Leaves.—Rough and hairy, the
upper long, narrow, set close to the stem; the lower broader, with leaf-stalks.
Flower-heads.—Composed of both ray and disk-flowers; the former yellow, the
latter brown and arranged on a cone-like receptacle.
By the middle of July our dry meadows are merry with black-
eyed Susans, which are laughing from every corner and keeping up a
gay midsummer carnival in company with the yellow lilies and
brilliant milkweeds. They seem to revel in the long days of blazing
sunlight, and are veritable salamanders among the flowers. Although
now so common in our eastern fields they were first brought to us
with clover-seed from the West, and are not altogether acceptable
guests, as they bid fair to add another anxiety to the already harassed
life of the New England farmer.
 PLATE LIV

EVENING PRIMROSE.—Œ. biennis.

——— ———
Rudbeckia laciniata. Composite Family (p. 13).

Two to seven feet high. Stem.—Smooth, branching. Leaves.—The lower

divided into lobed leaflets, the upper irregularly three to five-parted. Flower-
heads.—Yellow, rather large, composed of both ray and disk-flowers, the former
drooping and yellow, the later dull greenish and arranged on a columnar
receptacle.
This graceful, showy flower is even more decorative than the
black-eyed Susan. Its drooping yellow rays are from one to two
inches long. It may be found throughout the summer in the low
thickets which border the swamps and meadows.

Golden Aster.
Chrysopsis Mariana. Composite Family (p. 13).

Stem.—Silky, with long weak hairs when young. Leaves.—Alternate, oblong.

Flower-heads.—Golden-yellow, rather large, composed of both ray and disk-
flowers.
In dry places along the roadsides of Southern New York and
farther south, one can hardly fail to notice in late summer and
autumn the bright clusters of the golden aster.
C. falcata is a species which may be found in dry sandy soil as
far north as Massachusetts, with very woolly stems, crowded linear
leaves, and small, clustered flower-heads.

Golden-rod.
Solidago. Composite Family (p. 13).

Flower-heads.—Golden-yellow, composed of both ray and disk-flowers.

About eighty species of golden-rod are native to the United
States: of these forty-two species can be found in our Northeastern
States. Many of them are difficult of identification, and it would be
useless to describe any but a few of the more conspicuous forms.