Page 55 of Down in Flames

Michael plowed right over him. "How about riding fence with me in the dead of summer when even the strongest men get heat stroke? Or maybe—just fucking maybe—your idea of taking care of yourself is getting stomped into the dirt by a bucking horse. Those bruises on your back tell a story that's mighty different than the one coming out of your mouth."

"That's not fair," West protested. His fingers were shaking as he slid into his jeans and did up his shirt, rushing the job and missing buttons just to get on more even footing. He already felt defensive and vulnerable, he didn't need to be having this argument naked on top of it. "Dr. Harvey has always said I can live a mostly normal life, so long as I take some precautions."

Michael's eyes were hard. "Like what?" he challenged.

West shrugged. "I can't smoke anything. Can't take certain medications. I need to watch my caffeine intake. Ideally, I shouldn't drink any at all. I need a yearly check-up with my cardiologist, and I need to be aware of my heart rate during aerobic activity."

"You drink coffee," Michael pointed out.

"Yeah."

"Seen your cardiologist this year?"

He winced. "I'm a few months overdue."

A muscle flexed in Michael's jaw, and his eyes narrowed. There was something vicious in his tone when he whispered, "Do you want to die, West?"

"Fuck, no." West shoved his feet into his boots and cautiously went to him. He laid one hand on Michael’s stomach, searching his eyes, pleading for understanding. "I don't want to die, Michael. I want to live. You don't know what it was like to grow up and watch everyone make sacrifices to keep me safe. I couldn't step a toe out of line without feeling guilty for wasting all their effort. There were no sports for me. No friends. No summertime jobs. I was just a non-entity, someone who just existed, and I might have gone on that way all my life if it weren’t for you.”

“Me?” Michael’s hand covered his where it rested on his stomach, but the tension in his fingers told West he hadn’t decided whether to remove it or clasp it harder.

West smiled faintly. “You were new in town, so you hadn’t already decided how you were supposed to treat me. I was just a regular guy to you. I never realized how hungry I was for that validation until you gave it to me, and all I wanted to do was live up to how you saw me. You’re the reason I moved out of my folks’ place and into that crappy little apartment. You’re the reason I started taking on deliveries and volunteering around town. You’re the reason for everything I do, Michael Whittaker. You always have been.”

In some ways, it was a relief to finally be able to express everything he’d always truly meant to him. It went so much deeper than love.

“God, baby.” Michael’s voice was hoarse. “Don’t put that on me.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” West pressed. He felt like if he didn’t make his point now, he’d never get another chance. “It tore me up inside, but I was so afraid. You’re so keyed up any time you think someone is in danger. I get it, I do. But you’d have locked me up and thrown away the key if you knew.”

“I want to make sure you’re safe,” Michael hissed, dropping his hand.

“You can’t,” West said, wincing and flexing his empty fingers, already missing his warmth.

“Yeah, you’ve made that crystal clear,” Michael drawled venomously. “You never planned to cut back on the rodeos, did you?”

West hesitated. His first instinct was to lie, and it shamed him. “I was going to try,” he said eventually, choosing his words with care.

Michael’s laughter was bitter, and he glanced away like he couldn't stand to look at him. “So, everything I said to you the other night meant nothing to you.”

“No,” West protested, grabbing him by the sleeve. Michael roughly shook him off, stepping away. In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never brushed him off like that. Never denied him touch. It hurt so much he wanted to double over with it. “It meant the world to me that you’d open up to me like that. I’ve never felt so loved. More than that, I felt seen. I was just terrified that you’d break things off if you…if you knew…”

“So, you lied to get what you wanted.” Michael’s voice was flat.

West swallowed. “I want to make this work between us. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Michael stared at him, expression perfectly blank, and asked, “Will you give up riding?”

He’d known it was coming, but hearing it laid out so bluntly caused a twang somewhere low in his chest that had nothing to do with his heart. He stuffed his hands in his back pockets and hung his head, scuffing the toe of his boot on the floor.

"The doc said it's fine," he said, choosing his words carefully.

“No. He said he wasn’t going to stop you. But I am.”

“Don’t,” West begged, pinching at the bridge of his nose to stop the sting in his eyes. “Michael, please. You’ve got to trust me to make my own decisions. I’m still the same man you’ve always known.”

Michael’s mouth turned up at one corner, but West had never seen a smile so bleak. “That man didn’t exist, West. I don’t know who you are.”

He winced. “That’s not fair.”