Colt
I hand Mom her caramel apple and toss a handful of kettle corn into my mouth.
The Wells Canyon fair is teeming with families and groups of teenagers, bopping around on the waves of a sugar buzz.
It’s loud and colorful and I wish more than anything that Whit was with me.
It hits harder when a couple passes by, leaning into each other with a giant teddy bear held between them.
I’m people watching, and being people watched right back, because Beau’s stealing popcorn from my bag as if he’s not some kind of low-tier celebrity now. He’s oblivious to the stares—too focused on a popcorn kernel stuck between his teeth.
“Isn’t it weird as hell that people are constantly looking at you…and like, pretending they aren’t?” I make a face at a pair of teenage girls acting like they’re watching something on a phone while holding it in an entirely unnatural position.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “This definitely isn’t the norm. Most places I go, nobody knows who I am.”
“They don’t know who you are yet. Pretty soon you’ll be as big as…” Mom’s hand waves vaguely through the air. “Oh, I don’t know—one of those big-time singers, like Luke something-or-other.”
“Hear that?” I elbow my brother. “One day you’ll be so famous, Mom won’t remember your name.”
“He’ll be bigger,” Mom clarifies. “Everyone will know who Beau Campbell is.”
“Don’t forget, you’re buying me a retirement place in Florida.” I wag a finger in Beau’s face, my other hand battling him for access to the kettle corn. He insisted he didn’t want any, and now he’s eaten half of mine.
“In one of those sexy communities with all the widowed GILFs looking to have some fun? Or are you going to work up the nerve to ask Whit to be your girlfriend before then?”
Mom chips in. “He’s taking it slow with her.”
“Bullshit.” Beau scoops another handful of popcorn. “From what I’ve heard, things are full steam ahead.”
Asshole.
I chuck a kernel at his temple. “How much do you think TMZ will pay for a story about you being into old women?”
His laugh is screechy like a fire alarm. “Fuck off, man.”
Mom leans past me to smack him on the arm. “Are you boys done here?”
I snatch the popcorn away from Beau, crumpling the opening and shoving the entire bag in the pocket of my hoodie. “Yeah, Betty’s waiting at the truck, so we should probably get back there before she tears a kid’s leg off to get their corn dog.”
“I gotta grab Keely a sweatshirt first.” Beau points his chin toward the merchandise trailer. “She’s a sucker for a touristy souvenir shirt, and she’s bummed she couldn’t come with us.”
I nod approvingly. “I like this girl.”
Once Mom’s gathered her things—she scattered her belongings on the bench as if we were setting up camp for the night, rather than popping by the fair to grab some snacks and leave—the three of us weave through the busy crowd and step into a stock trailer that’s been converted into a tiny store.
Leaving Mom and Beau to shop a rack of Wells Canyon branded sweatshirts, I continue down the row of merchandise until I find the enamel pins.
Most of them are too plain. Too boring. My fingertips gingerly touch the glossy enamel, poking around and sorting through the haphazard display in a velvet-lined box.
My knuckle bumps against a pretty green landscape, then I see the striped tail of a winner. A raccoon holding a caramel apple. Wanted for Snack Theft.
I laugh under my breath, immediately picking it up to get a closer look. My callused thumb smooths over the raised design.
It might not be a penis inside a hotdog bun, like one of the ridiculous pins I saw in Whit’s bedroom. But it’s colorful, cute, the apple is green, and it has a raccoon like the shirt she gave me. She’ll love it.
“Hey, Ma,” I call over my shoulder, heading for the cash register. “I’m gonna go grab another caramel apple. Meet you guys in the parking lot.”
Once I’ve confirmed she heard me, I finish paying and slip the pin into my pocket on the way outside. And halfway back to the food truck my ears perk at a familiar voice.
Standing next to the dunk tank, Jonas has his back to me, but I’d recognize the blond hair poking out from under a Wells Ranch baseball hat anywhere. He’s talking with some kids about his age, and after I take a step in their direction to say hi, I realize they’re arguing.
These are the fuckers who have been bullying him.
Hot anger flares in my chest, and I stand a little taller, walking with a bit of extra swagger. I run my fingers over my mustache, looking at a loaded hot dog menu and pretending not to be eavesdropping while I wait for the right moment to step in.
“Is that your boyfriend?” The shortest kid seems to be the loudest. Probably the one Jonas punched at the park. He looks punchable. Like a young Lord Farquaad.
Without flinching, Jonas clips, “Are you okay?”
Even without seeing his face, I know in the depths of my soul that the look Jonas is giving this kid is absolutely killer. Honestly, he could’ve leveled him without using words, I bet.
“What do you mean?” Farquaad’s doppelg?nger says.
“Just thinking…your friends must really fucking suck if you’re so obsessed with mine.” Jonas scratches his head thoughtfully, like something clicked in his brain. “So, like, are you okay, or…”
The trailing off is my cue to get him out of there before he digs himself into a hole. He hasn’t quite mastered the art of roasting and ghosting—he’s lingering long enough to let the kid fight back.
“Hey.” I slip into the tension-filled circle, putting a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. I do my best to intimidate the bully with an assessing scan of his short body. “How’s it going, man?”
His muscles relax under the weight of my palm, and a wide smile blossoms on his face. “About damn time. You owe me an ice cream for kicking your ass at video games.”
Okay, dial it down a notch, badass.
“Better head over there before they close up shop.” I steer his body with my hands on his shoulders.
His friend follows close behind us until we’re a safe enough distance from the bullies for him to comfortably head out to find his parents on his own.
Then it’s only Jonas and me, and his entire body visibly relaxes.
A minute later, the two of us are stepping up to the food truck window and ordering ice cream cones and a caramel apple. There’s a brisk autumn nip in the air tonight, but I’m not one to turn down an opportunity to eat ice cream.
“You need a ride home?” I ask.
“Well, Dad said he would, but…”
Weird. I thought Whit was pretty firm about Alex not bringing him here.
Looking down at Jonas, I take a long lick of vanilla soft serve. The last thing I want is to overstep and make Whit feel like things between us won’t work. “All right, let’s go find him.”
He pouts. “I’d rather go with you.”
“Then we should tell him I’m taking you home, so he doesn’t think you were kidnapped.”
Jonas huffs but leads the way as we start across the noisy, neon fairgrounds.
Amid a crowd lined up for the Ferris wheel, we find his dad.
Alex runs a hand through dark curls, and he’s so focused on talking to a woman I presume is his girlfriend, he doesn’t notice us until Jonas is popping up in the middle of their conversation.
“Hey, J. Ready to go?” Alex asks.
“Colt’s gonna give me a ride.” Jonas flips his hand in my general direction.
Alex looks me up and down with a steady glare. “So you’re still around, then?”
Oh, that look tells me he knows I was the one behind Whit’s phone call.
“Sure am.” I lick my ice cream, forcing a pleasant smile. “Jonas asked me to take him home, so we came to let you know.”
“And Whit’s okay with—”
“Yup, she knows,” I lie.
I literally drive this kid around more than you do.
“Okay…well, hey, J. Thanks for hanging out with your boring old dad for a bit.” He slaps a hand down on Jonas’s shoulder, his fingers curling like talons.
Maybe it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but I swear he emphasizes the word dad on purpose. His eyes slice to mine for such a brief moment, probably nobody but me notices.
“Yeah.” Jonas shrugs Alex’s touch away. “See you later.”
“Next weekend? Maybe we can bring your video games over to our place and play together?” Alex asks, hopeful. Pretending not to notice—or be affected by—the clear indifference in his son’s attitude. “I’ll get pizza. It’ll be fun.”
I’d feel bad for the guy if he wasn’t such a loser.
Jonas shrugs and I catch him looking at me in his periphery.
I clear my throat. “My mom’s waiting back at my truck so I can give her a ride, too. We should probably get going.”
Alex goes in for the most painfully awkward hug with Jonas, which quickly devolves into an uncomfortable pat on the back instead.
“Nice seeing you,” I say before getting the hell out of there.
Jonas, thankfully, is quick to follow. By the time we spot my mom and brother in the parking lot, I’m shoving the last bit of ice cream cone into my mouth.
The place is half empty now, dimly lit with a handful of streetlights, and Betty lets out a yip when she sees us.
Rather, when she sees her kid. I usually get an excited bum wiggle after I’ve left her back at the truck, but she’s launching off the flat deck and barreling toward Jonas.
Her tail’s wagging so hard, it might fly right off.
Good thing Jonas put on some muscle over the summer, or she’d be knocking him flat on his back when she crashes into him with frantic kisses.
Mom leans against my truck, smiling as we slowly approach with Betty in tow. “This must be the Jonas I’ve heard so much about.”
He’s still being mauled by Betty, giggling so loud he probably can’t even hear Mom. So I answer for him. “Sure is. We’re gonna give him a ride home.”
“In that case, I’ll go with Beau. In case it’s…late by the time you’re done dropping him off.” She winks.
Obviously I haven’t told my mother about my sex life. But she also knows I’d planned on spending the night at her house after Whit’s birthday party…and look how that turned out.
Eyes trained on the kid, Mom’s voice lowers. “I trust you know what you’re getting into here, bud.”
In a whisper to match hers, I reply, “I do. I’m in it for the long haul.”
She gives me a knowing look and an accompanying arm-squeeze before turning to leave with my brother.
With that, I shout to Jonas and Betty, telling them to get in the truck. Then I climb into the driver’s seat to escape the quickly cooling night air. It takes a minute for warm-ish air to begin circulating from the vents, and the ice cream feels like a poor choice as we both shiver in unison.
“So, did you have fun with your dad?” The truck shifts into gear and lurches ahead to wind through rows of parking.
“I guess.” He gnaws at his bottom lip for so long it’s a wonder it’s not bleeding. “When I agreed to go for dinner before the fair, I thought he wasn’t going to show up. I didn’t really want him to, but whatever. I got ice cream for dessert.”
I gasp loudly. “Ice cream twice in one night? You conveniently left that part out earlier.”
He smirks. “Did you hear what I said to Logan?”
“So that’s the kid we’re pushing off the top of the slide?”
“Mom would be pissed if she heard you say that. Violence is never the answer.” He does an awful impression of her voice.
I grip the steering wheel, turning down the main street in Wells Canyon.
It’s completely void of people despite its only being nine o’clock, and Jonas stares out the passenger window with intent.
Just when I think I have the key to get this kid to share everything he’s thinking, he clams up like this.
“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. That’s damn hard to do. Kids are assholes.”
“The biggest assholes.” His free hand runs along the bottom of the passenger window, chasing droplets of condensation and stopping to draw a tiny smiley face in the fogged-up glass. “It’s not true…. Theo isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t…why won’t they stop saying that?”
“Because that Logan kid is so damn insecure that he takes it out on other people.” I watch him cross his thin arms over his chest, then move to wrap around Betty’s neck, pulling her into something that could be either a hug or a wrestling maneuver.
“Do you want me to talk to your mom about it? Maybe she can let the school know what’s going on? ”
He scrunches his nose.
“Remember when I told you about my dyslexia?” I wait for his nod.
“When I was about your age, a bunch of the kids were total dicks to me because I had to sit in some empty classroom with a special teacher to practice reading a couple times a week. The second you’re different, these insecure kids latch on to it, and they get mean. ”
“What did you do?”
“I spent a lot of time learning to be funny because it’s hard as hell to bully somebody who doesn’t take anything seriously. Plus, there’s power behind being able to make your entire class laugh.”
“You are pretty funny…looking.” He turns to me with a maniacal grin.
This kid is so much more than my little buddy, or my shadow on the ranch, or the son of the girl I really like.
We may not share any blood, or a last name, or a history that stretches beyond the past few months.
But Jonas means the world to me. He deserves people in his corner, and I’ve never been sure of anything the way I’m sure I need to be one of those people.