Her eyes danced with happiness. “Oh, good answer.”
This part never got old. The chance to unwrap her, one piece of clothing at a time. From the very first occasion until now, he loved the privilege of it. The way she shared so enthusiastically, arching against his hands as he pulled away the fabric and bared her skin to his lips. His tongue. His gaze.
He pressed a kiss directly over her heart. “I love every inch of you.”
“You do love every inch—oh, yes. There.” Jaxi breathed in deep before letting the air out in a low, lingering moan. He teased his tongue around her nipple and sucked again.
It took a long time to move from her breasts to her belly. To ease between her thighs and find the sweet heat of her sex already wet for him. Every taste, every nip, every suckling kiss made him harder and yet somehow eased the tightness in his heart.
Loving Jaxi was right and perfect. Them being together was perfect and familiar. He knew exactly how to please her. How to please himself as he slid a finger into her sex and stroked until she shattered under him.
Moving to notch his cock against her, Blake slid in before the waves were done. The pulse of pleasure wrapped him in a tight embrace, and he groaned out his own happiness.
Gazing into her eyes, he drew back then plunged deep.
This was love. Complete acceptance, complete trust. Jaxi dragged her hands over his shoulders as fire lit in his heart. They fell a moment later, the sheets tangled under them, chests heaving as their bodies trembled with sweet, dirty connection.
No matter what the future held, this much was true; he and Jaxi would face it together.
SP Ranch Journal
~Michael Coleman, November 1984~
There’s a hole in the heart of this family that’s never going to be filled. Not with Mark run off to who the hell knows where, and John—
Never knew my soul could hurt this bad.
Mark leaving last month was somewhat expected. He was growing more and more unhappy, but he wouldn’t talk about what was wrong. I didn’t know it was serious enough to have him simply pack up and leave.
John was still living in the house they shared, and he seemed okay with it for the first weeks.
Until he wasn’t okay. I can’t believe that John’s gone.
And to top it off, I can’t get a hold of Mark. No matter which numbers I call, I can’t track him down. He’s going to be devastated to know his twin is—goddammit, I can’t even fucking write the words.
He’s dead. John’s dead, and I didn’t help him.
What could I have done differently? What did I miss? Why didn’t I see?
[halfway down the page, a different set of handwriting.]
My darling love.
I know I’ve said it to you a dozen times now, and I’ll say it a dozen more. I thought maybe sneaking into your journal and putting it front and center for you to see might help remind you—
This wasn’t your fault. You can’t see all, do all, be all. You are a good father, a good husband, a good brother.
A man—fallible and yet trying.
Don’t punish yourself for others’ choices.
At some age, our boys are going to do things we don’t want. They’ll be stubborn, and rude, and maybe break a heart or two along the way. And there’s a fine line between caring and interfering, and we’ll have to walk it.
Your brothers are family, and in our hearts, but ultimately, they’re not your responsibility. You can’t make choices for them. You can’t lead them in any way other than stepping forward each day and trying your best to be your best.
I love you so much. Please, please, let the guilt go. Be sad, be mad, be furious, but not guilty.
We must live our own lives and stand accountable for our own actions. I will stand with you, but I will kick your ass if I have to…
But I’d prefer to love you and hold you and wipe away your tears, so we can step into tomorrow and try to find something that makes us happy.
We can’t fall into bitterness. We can’t live in unending sorrow. We need to live for our children, each other.
Ourselves.
That’s not being selfish—that’s protecting the garden we’ve planted. We need to ensure it grows strong, starting with our sons. With us.
We can do it.
Together.
~Marion
7
Travis caught himself whistling as he hung up the final saddle he’d polished. It’d been a quiet task and not one that he usually did, but today it had been a welcome opportunity to use his hands and let his mind wander.
The whole family memory book had been teasing at him. Trying to come up with a good idea of what he should share hadn’t been nearly as simple as he thought it would be.
For so many years, he’d loved his family and yet hesitated to truly be himself around them. Not just the sexual identity part, but the deeper, less civilized needs he felt. It had made him feel separated, in spite of how much he knew that especially Mike and Marion loved him.
Linking up with Ashley and Cassidy had been the answer to so many unanswered threads. And now that they had started a family—dear God, three babies in the house—he understood a little more about how his parents had loved him in spite of not totally understanding what he needed.
Ashley was his motivating light, always willing to poke her bear. And Cassidy was a solid, quiet pool, with more strength than Travis could ever muster. The three of them together were something unique and beautiful, and somehow, he had to find a way to put that into words?
Sure. No problem there.
He was still chuckling as he rounded the corner and nearly walked into his oldest nephew. “Whoa. Sorry.”
Lance stepped to the side, shaking his head. “My fault.” His youthful expression went from severe concentration to a wry smile instantly. “I was somehow looking for you and not paying attention to where I was going at the same time.”
“Got a problem with chores?” Travis asked, pausing to look the kid up and down. Although, he supposed he should admit kid was the wrong word. Lance was seventeen and closing in on graduation this year.
They’d gotten so used to having Daniel’s boys around the barns that their growing older had snuck up on them all.
The fidgeting was unusual, though. Lance didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands before shoving them in his pockets and firmly lifting his gaze to meet Travis’s. “All done with my chores, but I did want to talk to you. I mean, my best friend does, and I kind of already told him that I didn’t think you’d mind.”
With how tangled up his own brain was, Travis was having a bit of a problem following this conversation. “Your friend?” He thought for a second before finding the name. “Jeremy, right?”
“He’s waiting outside. He actually helped me with my chores, but when I said I was going to go track you down, he said he’d hang out by the creek in case you didn’t want to…” Lance paused and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of a personal topic, but I said you would be somebody good to talk to.”
Aw, hell. Travis could sense which way this one was going from a mile away. “Personal, huh?”
Lance nodded.
“Which means it’s about sex.”