Page 8 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.

“Hey now,” Beau said, his arms flexing as if he wanted to hug me. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I see a lot of my younger self in River and thought I knew how to manage his attitude.”

“You had a punk phase when you were his age?”

“Sure did.”

I snorted. “I’m trying to picture it.”

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and thumbed through a few screens. His smile was nice as he leaned over to show me what he’d found.

Huh.

There was Beau, his hair in liberty spikes, shirtless, wearing a Utilikilt and combat boots. Even at River’s age, he had a beard and thick, reddish-blond chest hair.

Looking at the picture and then back up to Beau caused the ball of stress I’ve been carrying in my belly all day to dissipate.

“I need to stop thinking that he’s made of glass.”

“Maybe let’s agree between the two of us to trust River to show us what he’s capable of, yes?”

I sniffed as I toed the dirt. “Sounds like a plan.”

Beau hesitated, then squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. We watched River until he passed us again.

“Did you make the saddle loose on purpose?” I asked, putting my weight on the walking stick.

“No comment.”

I dipped my chin, my shoulders shaking.

“I usually have Jake make it loose, so I can show the kids how to tighten it,” he admitted, doing a piss-poor job of hiding his grin.

“Meanwhile, River had other plans,” I quipped, suddenly sad again.

I took a deep breath and let it out, feeling like a balloon that’d lost its air.

Or maybe it was just the altitude.

“I appreciate you sharing who you are with my son,” I said quietly. “He was so mad about losing his mom that one of the first things he did when he woke up in the hospital was tell me about his first time with a boy from his school. Threw it at me like a fastball, like he expected me to shame him or just be terrible about it.”

Beau’s thoughtful expression made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t. At least not in a long time.

“Do you know why he would tell you that way?” he asked.

I considered the question, unsure whether my account of things was an accurate one.

“It’s kinda what he did when we told him we were getting a divorce. Like he expected us to use his queerness against himevery time things got hard?” I huffed, frustrated. “Basically, he wanted to hit us with it before we could judge him.”

Beau nodded, listening carefully. “Something tells me you weren’t that surprised when he did come out.”

Shaking my head, I ran my fingertips along my bottom lip, lost in my version of the past. “He used to love getting into his mom’s makeup. Her jewelry. Which, I know that doesn’t a queer person make, but…”

“It definitely points you in a direction,” he said, unintentionally using my own words.

River made his way back to us, looking more confident. Beau grinned, and River didn’t immediately roll his eyes. Progress.

“How are your hips?” Beau asked, worry stitching his brows.