That was in the fucking paper?
George’s stomach curled in on itself and his vision briefly blurred. Fingers began trembling. He tried to latch on to something tangible before the panic attack took over and embarrassed the hell out of him, but not even the faintest scent of dirt and horse kept him there.
Orry. I need Orry.
Then a somewhat familiar voice was there, talking to him or the woman, George wasn’t sure. He didn’t protest the firm hands that pulled him up and forward. Indoors and out of the fresh December air. Somewhere that smelled like food and warmth and safety, and then slender arms were pulling him into a hug.
“You’re okay, it’s okay. You’re safe, George, you’re okay. Listen to my voice. You’re safe.”
The constant reassurances helped George latch on to specific things: the smell of cooked bacon; the warmth of the person holding him; the murmur of other voices; the sound of what might have been a dishwasher. He was in a kitchen. The man holding him was roughly his size, maybe a bit taller, but just as slim.
When George thought he could look up without bursting into tears, he met Miles’s eyes. Miles watched him with equal parts compassion and understanding, and without asking, George saw an ally in his panic attack. “Thanks for the save,” George rasped, hating how much his voice wobbled.
“Happy to.” Miles drew back a bit but didn’t let go of George’s forearms. “I don’t know what Mrs. Harrison said to you but I saw how you reacted. I’ve been in a similar place. Where something unexpected triggers you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And I’m not asking. Only offering an ear to bend if you need one. Everyone who lives here has a story, George. Even our guests have stories. I just hope I helped today.”
“You did.” George twisted his arm so he could clasp one of Miles’s hands. “Thank you. I was not handling that well.”
“Do you need Patrice or Reyes to speak to Mrs. Harrison about whatever it is she said that upset you? They will. We want all our guests to feel welcome and safe here.”
“She wasn’t being mean.” As much as George hated talking about his abrupt departure from competitive figure skating, he also believed the woman had simply been curious. She had no way to know what sort of hornet’s nest of bad memories she’d stirred up with semi-innocent questions. “If she’s an empathetic enough person, she won’t bring it up again.”
Miles snorted. “You give people a lot more credit than I do.”
George gazed around him, not at all surprised to see he was in the big, semi-industrial kitchen of the guesthouse. Long prep counters, a huge oven with a bunch of burners on top, and a walk-in fridge.
“I’m just really out of my comfort zone here,” George said. “I’m not used to being recognized anymore.”
Miles didn’t ask or question the statement. “Speaking as someone who has also had to work to challenge their own comfort zones, it can suck but it’s usually worth it. The newfound sense of freedom. And Clean Slate is...a really good place to find yourself. Not physically, exactly, but emotionally and spiritually. I first came here for a week’s vacation with my best friend, and it changed me in more ways than I can ever express. Moving here was the best choice I ever made.”
George pulled on what bits of personal history he recalled. “You moved here for Reyes?”
“No, I moved here to start over and leave my past behind. Reyes was the most amazing bonus feature ever, and loving him changed my life.” Miles chuckled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not that I’m advocating you move here to find true love, but keep your heart and mind open to possibilities. The world can be scary but it can also be a very beautiful place.”
“Thank you.” George carefully extricated himself from Miles’s gentle hold. “I don’t know what I want right now other than more than I used to have.”
“It’s a good first step. And if you ever need to talk, you can call me anytime.”
“I don’t have your number.”
They swapped phone numbers, and by the end of things, George’s confidence was back up and swinging for the fences. Miles was easy to talk to, and he spoke like a man who understood fear. George didn’t want to imagine what the guy had gone through, so he didn’t ask or ponder as he tucked his phone back into his jeans pocket.
“George!”
Levi’s voice broke through the quiet of the downstairs, and George was not prepared for the way Levi thundered into the kitchen and yanked George into a fierce hug. “I’m okay,” George said, several times in a row.
“You weren’t outside,” Levi said to his hair. “Samuel said he saw one of the staff take you into the house, that you looked weird, and I guess I panicked.”
George pressed his cheek against Levi’s shoulder. “No, I panicked. One of the guests brought up my skating past, and I had an attack, but Miles saw it and he got me out. Calmed me down. I’m okay, I promise.”
Levi growled softly, and the protective sound went right to George’s dick. “Who do I have to speak to?” Levi asked.
“No one, it’s okay. At least now I know someone here knows who I am. Or who I was, I guess. I can prepare for it.” George pulled back to stare into Levi’s angry blue eyes. “I haven’t faced this in years because I hid from it. If I want to be in the world again, I need to be able to face people who remember who I used to be. If that first step is on a rural ranch with a dozen other people, then so be it. I can do this.”
Levi brushed his lips over George’s. “Yes, you can.”
George glanced around the kitchen but they were alone. He pressed his mouth to Levi’s for a long time, basking in the heat of the man holding him. In their physical and emotional connection. “Your faith in me is everything.”
“You are very easy to believe in.”
The instant and confident way Levi said that he believed in him curled around George like a warm blanket and left him a bit gooey inside. “Saying stuff like that will get you dragged back up to our room, and we have horses to ride soon.”
Levi’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I guess we’ll have to save your ideas for later tonight when we’re sharing a tent.”
His insides wobbled. “A tent. Right.”
“It’s a two-person tent and we’ll have separate sleeping bags. In the summer the campers usually sleep under the stars but it’s too chilly for that. But I can ask Reyes to make sure you have your own tent if you’d rather.”
“No, it’s okay.” George shook his head, trying to clear out the mental cobwebs. “I guess I didn’t think the camping trip through, and us sharing a tent is totally fine.” He didn’t mind the idea of snuggling up close to Levi with two sleeping bags between them. Sharing body heat with someone else for the first time since the womb.