Free The Ranchers Son by RJ Scott Page A

possibly mean in the cold light of day twelve
years later?
    When Ethan lay
down to sleep, all he could think was one thing.
    His love for Adam was
still there; it had never left. It was not like the love he would forever have
for his brother, for Justin.
    The love he felt
for Adam dwelt in a very different part of his heart.
     

Chapter
Eight
    Adam blinked awake.
Ethan was shaking his arm. “Where are we?”
    He’d taken all his
meds this morning. They’d knocked him out and, in the fully reclined passenger seat,
he’d slept a dreamless sleep.
    “Alexandria,
Minnesota.”
    Ethan helped him to
move the seat up, and Adam got his first look at the new state they were in.
Apart from a few more trees in the distance, the highway didn’t look any
different, and the hotel they had stopped at was a carbon copy of the one
they’d just left.
    “How long did you
drive?”
    “Six hours or so,
stopped halfway at a mall and got you some more clothes, ate shitty barbecue, played
my music really loud, but nothing was shifting you from sleep.”
    Adam covered a
wide yawn with his hand. He felt like shit; not so much pain, but confused and
uncomfortable. “I need a shower.”
    “I need a shower,
then food.”
    Adam looked at
Ethan, but there was no innuendo in his voice and certainly nothing on his face
to show he was about to make a joke about them sharing a shower.
    “If you want a
separate room….” Adam deliberately trailed off and let Ethan fill in the
blanks. Again, Adam kept his expression carefully neutral.
    “Would you like a separate room?”
    “I’m not the one
paying for all this.” Adam waved at the hotel. “I’m happy to share.”
    This time, Ethan
frowned. “You have money, you know, in frozen accounts. Income from your
portion of the ranch. I can pay, and you can pay me back later.”
    Adam filed that
information away, not sure what to do with it. “Okay,” he said, which was all
he could manage, still with the fuzz of sleep clouding his thoughts.
    “But like I said,
if you want a place to yourself—”
    “No,” Adam said
immediately, “I don’t want to be on my own.”
    Compassion
filtered into Ethan’s expression and he nodded. He didn’t jump on that comment,
or analyze it, or make a point of encouraging discussion; he just accepted Adam
at his word.
    Their room faced a
stand of trees.
    “Seems like the
view is getting better each time,” Ethan said, staring out of the window.
    Adam stood next to
him, stretching out tight muscles. “I need a shower,” he said.
    “You take the
shower first,” Ethan offered. “I need to check my email and locate the nearest
food outlet.”
    “ You’ ve been driving . Are
you sure you don’t want to go first?”
    Ethan looked at
him and quirked an eyebrow. “Have you smelled you?” he teased.
    Adam pressed a
hand to his heart, affecting his most wounded look. “I’ll have you know I smell
of man,” he said, then smiled.
    When Ethan smiled
back, something passed between them: recognition, a spark that Adam couldn’t
define.
    “I got you this.” Ethan
gave a toiletries bag to Adam. “Now go,” he ordered. “Make yourself pretty.”
    And then he picked
up the folder from the desk to look at the details of the hotel inside, and
Adam couldn’t do anything other than go into the bathroom.
    He closed the door
behind him, and for a second he rested there. He felt different today, more
relaxed, not like his every single nerve was on fire. His chest still hurt when
he breathed too deeply or when he twisted in a certain way, but he felt better.
    He attempted to
center himself, then leaned on the sink and stared at the face in the mirror.
    “Okay, I really do
look like shit,” he mumbled to his reflection. He catalogued dark eyes, ignored
the bags under them, examined the tattoos in reverse on his chest, and ignored
the bruising. He could do that—compartmentalize all his pain and exhaustion and
focus on what was important.
     His identity.
Dark hair,