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saying anything, his whole story would come tumbling out, and either Seamus would think he was crazy or Seamus would have something to hold over him when Ri wasn’t ready to cede that power to him.
At his non-response, Seamus scratched his cheek. “Listen. Two things. Don’t bring your trouble to me. And knock on the bloody door instead of walking through walls. Okay?”
Ri nodded.
“You can speak, you know.”
“I know.” Ri attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite work.
“Oh, one more thing. I’m gay. If you have a problem with that, you should leave.”
A shortness of breath assailed Ri, though Seamus had already given his horse this information. This is not a come-on , Ri chided himself. Not that he’d know what to do with a come-on.
“Ri.” It was a warning. Seamus thought Ri was reacting badly to his being gay. Words were needed.
“No problem,” Ri managed, abruptly understanding why Grandfather had pushed so hard for this friendship. Well-meaning but naïve. As if being gay was all Ri needed to trust someone.
Seamus’s gaze was steady on his, but not unkind. His next words proved him to be more observant than Ri had thought.
“Ah. You’re not out, are you?”
Ri looked down and away. All he could think was, If you only knew .
    Seamus poured the boiling water into Zachariah’s old, cracked mugs. Instant coffee, but he didn’t care. He supposed if he was staying, he’d buy new dishes and a coffee maker.
    He gave a brief shake of his head. Why did he consider the option of keeping this place? It was a disaster—with an unwanted, repeat intruder. Closeted to boot. Or maybe that was just being tongue-tied. Seamus’s struggles with the closet in his teen years had made him overly sensitive to the idea of someone not being out.
    In truth, Seamus was fascinated if baffled by Ri and his actions. Yes, the man might be playing some kind of deep game Seamus couldn’t fathom, complete with acting wary, nervous and strangely innocent. But that didn’t make sense. What would there be in accomplishing, well, whatever Ri was trying to accomplish?
    As far as Seamus knew, the only thing Ri wanted was that Seamus keep the farm.
What the hell did Ri do? How did he live? He must be on the run, but how did he make it through the winters here?
Something clicked over in Seamus’s brain.
“Zachariah gave you shelter during the winter.” Seamus made it a statement.
Ri nodded. “At times. I have other options though.”
“Oh?” He placed a mug in front of Ri who sat at the kitchen table. “What are those?”
Ri stared at the coffee, concentrating. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Alrighty.” Seamus eased into his chair. “What do you want to talk about?”
Ri smiled at his hands, his expression pained. He appeared at a loss.
“Help me out here, Ri.”
Ri’s head shot up. “How?”
Seamus stated the obvious and made a point of keeping the impatience out of his voice. “Talk to me.”
Ri made a hopeless gesture, and it struck Seamus that his guest looked exhausted and hungry. He jumped up and pulled out a box of muffins he’d bought today, and a block of cheese, offering them both to Ri.
“Dig in.”
“Thanks.”
Needless to say Ri gulped it all down. Seamus could have felt imposed upon, that he was a major source of food for Ri. But it was a bit difficult when clearly Ri was in a tough spot. A long time ago, Seamus arrived here in a very tough spot, and Zachariah had helped him out. Seamus would do the same for his grandson. Besides, he could afford to feed a hungry man.
He didn’t understand this shyness that came over his guest at certain times in the conversation. It contrasted sharply with Ri’s tendency to arrive unannounced. Perhaps being on the run wasn’t a way to shore up social skills. On the other hand, if Ri thought they were about to tumble into bed because Seamus had informed him he was gay, he could think again.
Ri’s pupils had dilated when Seamus had declared himself gay.
Before