Ned pushed back his hair with a frown but didn’t meet his gaze at him. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”
“How the hell would I know?” Cole asked, turning to face him, because he was no stranger to confrontation, even if those with Ned were somehow more difficult than any standoff involving guns and bullets.
Ned spread his arms. “So what? You’re just gonna find yourself another Lars?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. What was he to you really? You said you’ve been with a lot of men.”
Ned was forgetful, but not where Cole would have liked him to be. And as much as Cole wanted to dismiss the question or mock Ned for it, the sudden tightness in his throat made him bide his time by resting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath. Lars didn’t deserve what Cole had done to him. “He was a good friend. I could count on him when it mattered. And yes, we fucked, because it’s convenient that way. So what? I’m not going to live like a monk.”
Ned huffed and rested his hands on the back of the chair. “So you were bounty hunters together? For how long?”
Cole swallowed and leaned more of his weight against the counter. “Two years.”
More time than he’d spent with Ned, yet somehow he could recall every joke, every kiss, and every night they’d shared. He’d been so jealous of Ned’s time and the company Ned kept that he could hardly stand watching him talk to the girls in camp. But neither he nor Lars had cared where the other spent his nights, as long as they came back. Cole had appreciated that arrangement, even though it had lacked the passion that guided his actions in the past.
“And before that? What did you do after we parted?” Ned glanced at Cole’s forehead with pity, which made Cole want to put on a hat, or at least the plain bandana he always wore whenever there were people around. But he stood his ground, because what was done was done.
“Earned more bounties on my head as I tried to make a living? Fucked my way through the West? What exactly do you want to hear?” he asked, hoping that hurting Ned would stop this onslaught of uncomfortable questions.
Ned shook his head and backed off. “I want to know you again, but looks like that’s impossible. Finish the stew, will you? I’ll go feed the horses.” He grabbed his hat and coat, and headed for the door, whistling at the dog, which rose as if it had been waiting for this moment all evening.
Cole finally had his peace, but while the luxury of a warm home and silence should have been a blessing he hadn’t been afforded in a very long time, the space somehow smelled of Ned, as if he were present and watching Cole even without actually being there.
He went on to fry the liver some more, and then tossed it into the stew, hoping the random assortment of herbs he seasoned the mixture with would be enough to transform it into a meal.
Ned was out of his mind if he thought Cole would step back into the same river that had taken away all his possessions, family, and left him marked for life. Lars’s death had emboldened Ned too, as if the fresh grave was a good luck charm and an invitation into Cole’s bed.
Cole already knew he no longer wanted Ned dead, but that was about it, and while the old feelings were still tucked deep inside him, years and experience had made him wiser. Entrusting his heart again— to Ned or anyone else—was not an option. He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that his choice not to engage with people in the way he used to left his life somewhat bleak, with each of its colors tinted gray, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. If he let himself enjoy Ned’s company, he’d inevitably get attached, only to have his trust broken again. Because it would happen. It always did.
And yet, as the stew simmered for a while, and Ned was still not back from his simple task, most likely sulking, Cole couldn’t stand it anymore and got up. A part of him craved to see that he hadn’t been wrong about Ned, craved finding him with a bottle of moonshine he’d tucked away somewhere, or even discovering that the madman killed both their horses in a fit of rage, just to entrap Cole.
It would have been so much easier to hate Ned then. But the angry blaze, which had burned inside Cole for so long was now dead.
He snuck into the barn, wary of making any noise, but instead of finding Ned nursing a bottle, he saw him sitting by Nugget’s side in the stall at the very back. Carol betrayed Cole’s presence with a happy whinny, recovered after witnessing Galahad’s death. Nugget, however, lay under two blankets, snorting repeatedly while Ned petted him, speaking in a soft voice.
“What’s… up with him?” Cole asked, hugging the winter coat around himself as he shut the barn door to keep out the worst of the wind.
“The cold must have gotten to him, and he was already weakened after starving when I was away. I’ll stay with him tonight. You can go back to whatever you were doing.”
Cole should’ve been glad that Ned had given up on seeking his attention, but this utter indifference sparked an unease deep inside him. “The stew will be a while. Did he eat?” Cole asked, scooting down to pet the horse through two blankets. One glance at Carol’s stall told him she too had been fed and watered.
“Yes,” Ned whispered and petted Dog, who cuddled up to his thigh with a happy yelp, so at ease with its master’s touch it made Cole’s stomach twist in irrational jealousy.
“Then it’s not so bad, I think.”
Cole sat by the resting animal and petted it with long strokes. The silence felt oppressive, and when he finally opened his mouth, it brought them right back to the unfinished conversation.
“And what did you do in the time… before you became the Wolfman? Any interesting men you’d like to tell me about?” he teased, inhaling the hay-scented air. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care for Ned, deep down he knew it was all lies.
Ned shook his head with a sigh. “You know I’ve never been good at recognizing the signs. I was hounded by Craig wherever I went. Having eyes on the back of my head became so exhausting, I figured my old family cabin could be a good place to rest and recuperate, and then… a bad winter came, the wolves, intruders. Being on my own became the only way. Deserved the punishment I guess.”
“So after we parted you never—” Cole stopped talking when Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he couldn’t hide his shock. Ned was a real handsome man, with a decent enough personality, and anyone deserved some comfort in their life regardless.
“I didn’t know where to look for it, and to be honest… didn’t care to,” Ned grumbled and pulled a blanket around his body.
“I’m sorry,” Cole whispered, leaning against Nugget’s shivering body. He almost wished to touch Ned, but he shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t.
“It’s all right. I made my bed. I shot Homer Craig. I killed that poor, innocent girl. I guess becoming the Wolfman helped me forget the atrocities Ned O’Leary had done.” Ned glanced Cole’s way and, after a moment of tense silence, raised the blanket in invitation.
Cole shouldn’t cuddle with him either, but it was cold, and he did want to. At the end of the day, what was the harm? They weren’t boys anymore, and he could separate his actions from feelings well enough. As much anger as he still harbored for Ned, he also felt sorry for him. Ned might have caused every bad thing that had befallen them both, but it was becoming clear that the consequences he’d suffered were even more dire than Cole’s.