Free A Wild Ride by Andrew Grey

expected rejection from his grandfather, but acceptance and Gramps’s obvious peace with it were more than he could ever have hoped. “You were never one to talk much about your feelings. You get that from me, and maybe I should have talked to you about this a long time ago.”
    “Gramps,” Dante said.
    “No, boy, you gotta let me say my piece. You’re my family and you got the best parts of all of us. You’re stubborn and pigheaded, but that’s what it takes to survive out here. In that way, you’re just like me and your mama.”
    Dante swallowed. Gramps rarely talked much about Dante’s mother, and even less about his father. Dante remembered them, but he was only twelve when they’d died in an accident, so the memories he had were more like snapshots and short movie clips rather than sharp memories. He tried to remember both of them, but over time the memories had faded. One thing was plain enough; Gramps hadn’t liked Dante’s father and still blamed him for Dante’s mother’s death. “Maybe I raised you wrong after your folks died…,” Gramps said, sounding hurt. “I never had a son of my own, and I tried to raise you the way I thought a son should be raised, the way my daddy raised me. But….”
    “Gramps,” Dante said again. He really didn’t want to talk about all this. But he couldn’t deny his grandfather anything, even if it made him as squirmy as the earthworms he used to dig to go fishing.
    “Dante, if I taught you shame, then I was wrong,” Gramps said, and Dante looked up toward the porch ceiling overhead. “’Cause I don’t care who you like as long as they make you happy.”
    “I know that, Gramps,” Dante said, taking a deep breath. Tears threatened to gather at the corners of his eyes, but he willed them away. There was no need for that kind of shit.
    “Then why didn’t you say anything?” Gramps snapped as he stood up, and the pain in his voice cut Dante like a knife. But pain was something he could bear, he’d done it often enough, so Dante did the same thing he did when he was hurting after falling off a bull and needed to put on a show for the crowd: he ignored it and went on.
    “Guess I didn’t think I had to,” Dante said. He’d never talked about it with Gramps because he never talked about being gay with anyone. Dante had long ago accepted who he was and he didn’t give a horse’s patoot what anyone else thought about it.
    “Oh,” Gramps said and then went quiet.
    “Come on,” Dante said quietly, leading Gramps toward the door. “I don’t talk about it with anyone, but I don’t hide it either, except maybe on the circuit, but I think some of the guys know and they don’t say nothing….”
    Dante’s grandfather stopped as they approached the door. “I’m not one of the guys,” he said firmly.
    “No,” Dante said, squeezing his grandfather’s arm. That was as close as he could come to try to express the vortex of conflicting feelings swirling around inside him right now. “You’re not,” Dante added, and Gramps glanced at him and then nodded slowly before pulling the door open.
    “Are you coming in?” Gramps asked.
    Dante shook his head. “In a while.” Dante couldn’t have slept right now if he’d tried. “I put your nighttime pills in the case beside your bed.” His grandfather huffed the way he usually did when Dante reminded him about his medication. But this time he patted Dante’s shoulder in a display of understanding and then went inside, the screen door banging closed behind him. Dante’s boots thumped on the wooden porch floor as he walked to the corner. He leaned on the railing as he looked out over the Texas prairie.
    No, he wasn’t ashamed. He was Dante Rivers. He rode bulls. He was fearless. He almost single-handedly took care of the family ranch and his grandfather. He was strong and he didn’t need the help of anyone. Dante had been doing everything for so long he didn’t know any different. He turned, stomping off