Dog, who managed to sneak into the house after him, licked Cole’s hand, and Cole didn’t even have the energy to shove him away. With Lars dead, and from Cole’s own bullet at that, he was alone again, wanted in several states, and with nowhere to go or call home.
*
When the wind picked up, bringing more snowfall, it became obvious Cole wouldn’t get to leave yet after all. He washed as diligently as possible while Ned was busy with the meat, then dressed, and nailed Lars’s fancy hat to the cross on his grave. Lars’s saddle and bags were a constant reminder of what Cole had done to a man who had turned out to be a true friend, one to risk his own life to save Cole’s. And for all that kindness Cole had stabbed him in the back. And for what? To save fucking Ned O’Leary.
He was a fool, and the past seven years had taught him nothing.
He shouldn’t have accepted Ned’s poisonous kiss or offended Lars with lies and constant rejection. But no matter how much he convinced himself that he ought to have followed Lars’s lead and stuck a red hot poker in Ned’s eye, just the thought of metal searing flesh made his throat squeeze. He wouldn’t have let it happen, not only because he couldn’t stand the smell of burning skin since that damn rancher had branded him. Despite all the resentment living in his heart, he was still protective of Ned.
So now he was trapped in a hell of his own making.
Cole had melted water for the horses and fed them more than usual but then had left Ned in the barn, hoping for the best. The butchering was taking hours, and Cole couldn’t help but think of Ned’s past. Of the stew Ned’s mother had made. Something like that might put a man off eating meat for good, but Cole knew hunger all too well, so he understood.
When Ned came in, they didn’t speak beyond exchanging necessary words about the horses, dinner, or wood for the fire. The silence gnawed at Cole’s insides, but what was there to say?
Ned washed off the blood and its stench, then proceeded to shave and even put some oil in his hair. Was he expecting a repeat of last night?
Was he trying to entice Cole? Better not let him know how appealing he really was, or he might get stupid ideas and attempt to regain the power he’d once held over Cole.
But as the silence stretched, trapping them in the same wooden box, with unsaid things hanging in the air like an ugly stink one couldn’t get rid of, Cole found himself something to do. Once the coffee pot was on the stove, he brought some cans and potatoes from the pantry and started putting a quick meal together.
At least this way he wasn’t facing Ned anymore.
“Got us the liver for tonight,” Ned said the moment Cole set the stew-to-be on the stove, and pointed to a slab of meat marinating in a bowl with some herbs and spices.
But while Cole followed Ned’s finger, his gaze was then drawn to an open cupboard stacked with booze, which Ned had been browsing behind his back. Most of it was moonshine, but he and Lars had also found bottles with French labels, likely stolen from the same person who owned the French cookbook Ned had torn up.
Cole dropped the knife on the table with a loud clatter. “I did not sleep with you on the floor and clean up your vomit for you to reach for liquor again.”
Ned licked his lips, going stiff. “I… I just thought it would be nice to have some wine with dinner. Honor Lars, you know?”
What a load of bullshit. Ned had hated Lars so much he’d even blamed the wolf attack on him.
“And you’re lying to me again,” Cole said, taking a step closer to Ned. He’d learned to spot cheats from a mile away after Ned’s betrayal, and the way Ned’s lip twitched told him everything.
“Would it really hurt to have a glass of wine like civilized people? Isn’t that why you shaved me? To be more… civilized?”
Cole had shaved him because he wanted to see Ned’s face. For his own selfish needs, but this? He wouldn’t have cared if Ned started drinking again if the past truly were in the past. The secret he’d carried in his heart for so long and only voiced at the gallows still rang true. He couldn’t stay with Ned if he didn’t want to fall into him again, but he didn’t want him to live like an animal either.
Hell. It was hell.
“So that’s how you want it? To just go back to drink and let it eat through your mind completely? If I visited and saw you in that kind of state again, I’d immediately turn away and leave you to the wolves and fleas.”
Ned caught just one thread in that sentence. “You’d visit?”
Cole should have never said that, but when faced with that question, he was overcome with a longing to step closer and take Ned’s hand—
“Haven’t thought about it. I could if I were around.”
“For the winter maybe. Could be nice. I’d stock up on food and firewood. We could make music. You wouldn’t have to do nothing, just enjoy yourself.”
It did sound appealing, and that was exactly why Cole needed to nip this attachment in the bud. Starting with preventing Ned from drinking once he was gone. He walked past him and grabbed a wooden crate filled with jars of moonshine. “Take the other one.”
Ned groaned, but followed the order. His sour expression said that he knew what was coming.
“It’s for your own good. You must see that you already look better,” Cole said, appealing to Ned’s newfound vanity.
His skin remained pale and puffy in places, but he still looked very much like the strong, handsome man Cole had met years ago. His hair oil didn’t smell of anything though, and Cole wondered whether there was any dried rosemary in the pantry to make an infusion. Not that it mattered.
“Do I? Look good?” Ned asked with those needy puppy eyes fixing on Cole as they made their way out of the house and stepped into the dusky afternoon. At least that took them off the topic of ‘shine.
“What do you see in the mirror?” Cole asked and stopped by Lars’s grave, placing the crate next to it.
“I don’t know. A man.” Ned shrugged and followed Cole’s lead.
Ned O’Leary was definitely not just a man. He was a bit wirier than Cole remembered, but still tall and strong, with the brightest green eyes that twinkled when he smiled, and a dusting of freckles that made him appear younger. Cole chose to not voice any of that.
“I think we should let Lars have all that booze. He needs it most.”
Ned scowled. “Taking what’s mine even from beyond the grave.”
“If this is about me, you should think twice. I was never his, and I am not yours. Do we understand each other?” Cole asked and poured the contents of the first jar onto the hard mound of dirt surrounded by snow.
Ned rubbed his forehead and actually mewled. Cole didn’t know if it was for the booze or the dismissal he’d gotten, and preferred it that way.
“Go on, join me,” Cole said and splashed the sharp-smelling liquor by rapidly extending his arm, but his gaze remained on Ned, who needed to understand that this painful moment was for his own good.
Ned grabbed one of the jars and opened it, but wouldn’t let it go, and the moonshine trembled in his hand until some of the booze drizzled down his fingers. He took a deep breath, hid his face in the crook of his shoulder, and let out a sob.
Cole stiffened, cold and unsure what to do, but Ned wouldn’t stop weeping, as if he were inconsolable after the loss of an old friend.