Epilogue
“Wait, so we’re standing in the bed of the truck?” Sam asked. “That can’t be safe.”
“Ernesto will be going, like, two miles an hour. We’ll be fine,” Connor assured him, fixing the last of the balloons to the tailgate.
Ernesto was their newest employee, and while he was a little older than the average electrical apprentice, they’d been incredibly lucky to find him.
He’d moved from out of state and had already completed three years of training under the supervision of his old employer.
The man had been an enormous help over the past year, what with Connor barely able to keep up with the onslaught of jobs.
With Sam at the helm as manager, the business had gone from strength to strength.
He’d used Connor’s win at the business awards to drum up publicity, and several local news networks had picked up the story of the young, dedicated electrician from Oakdale.
Now they were getting calls as far out as Kearney.
When Ernesto’s indirect supervision card was approved, Connor had bought a new truck so he could send Ernesto out on small jobs alone—the same truck that was currently decorated with crepe paper and balloons for the We Love Oakdale appreciation parade.
At Sam’s recommendation, they’d rebranded, updating the old logo and kitting out the van in sleek signage while also commissioning a set of uniforms in navy and white.
It was Mayor Greenfield who’d approached Sam about being a part of the parade, which was a tribute to Oakdale’s community spirit.
It was the first time Finnegan’s Electrical had ever been asked to participate.
When Sam asked Connor about the parade, framing it as the perfect opportunity to showcase what they’d accomplished in the last year, Connor’s thoughts had jumped to his father on instinct.
Not that the old man was in the habit of passing judgment these days.
He’d relinquished his hold on the business and taken up online chess instead.
It kept him busy and out of everyone’s hair and supplied ample conversation for their regular Sunday-night dinners, in which Sam was an avid participant.
Connor and his father still didn’t talk much, though now that his dad was less concerned with what Connor wasn’t, he seemed more interested in who he was.
“I don’t pretend to know how this works,” his father said to him once when Sam was out of earshot.
Connor had fought the urge to retort, “What’s that, Dad? Love?”
“But he’s a good kid, and he seems to make you happy,” his father continued.
And Connor had simply nodded. It was the truth, after all.
After taking over the business, Connor had felt the responsibility as a heavy weight on his shoulders. But with Sam onboard, it started feeling more like a project, a dream they were building together. He’d taken what his father had given him and was shaping it into something he could call his own.
And Sam loved nothing more than a good project.
In addition to his role as manager, he had been working with Brian on a spinoff series based on his friend’s graphic novel and had approached a handful of offbeat publishers to get it in print.
Sometimes Connor worried Sam was taking on too much.
But Sam was getting better at knowing his limits and respecting them, even if he still needed the occasional reminder.
Connor looked over at Sam, who was eyeing the height of the truck bed as if making some shrewd calculation of the potential risk. He couldn’t help but laugh and bent to kiss Sam on the forehead. “It’s going to be fine. Ernesto is an excellent driver.”
“Why am I doing this again?” Sam asked with a pout.
“Because it was your idea, remember? You wanted us to showcase the business,” Connor explained for the umpteenth time, smoothing Sam’s frown with the pad of his thumb. “And you are a big part of this business.”
“Yeah, well, I prefer to remain behind the scenes.” Sam shot a nervous look at the growing number of floats pulling up along the road as they waited for the parade to get started.
Then Connor realized perhaps it wasn’t the fear of falling from a moving vehicle that was behind his boyfriend’s reluctance. “What’s really bothering you about this, Sam?” he prodded gently. “Getting up in front of the crowd?”
Sam glanced at him, his eyes guarded, and Connor knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “It hasn’t exactly gone well before.”
Connor resisted the urge to scoop him up into a hug.
Sam was wearing a matching pair of overalls with Finnegan’s embroidered across the right breast pocket and looked way too adorable to be this worried.
“If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s that life is too short to give a shit what other people think. ”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Look at you, all caution to the wind. I’ve created a monster.”
“But seriously, if you don’t want to do it, just say the word. I’m not going to make you.”
“And disappoint Matty and my mom? I’ll never live it down.”
“That’s settled, then. And as hard as it might be, I promise not to kiss you in front of an audience.”
Sam smirked. “We’re joking about that now?”
“It just shows how much we’ve both moved on from high school,” Connor said, leaning in.
“Thought you weren’t going to kiss me,” Sam teased, lifting his chin.
“On the truck,” Connor murmured, close enough to smell the lemony scent of Sam’s aftershave. “I’ll kiss you all I want before then.”
“I got the coffee, boss!” Ernesto announced, appearing behind Sam and jolting Connor from his reverie. If there was one thing their apprentice had proven to be, it was efficient.
Ernesto handed out takeaway cups from Jenny’s, and the three of them leaned against the truck, watching as the parade coordinators handed out numbers to determine the order of the floats.
“Is that Mr. Willis wearing a pill-bottle costume?” Sam remarked, taking a sip of coffee.
“I hear they’ve attached a giant papier-maché doughnut to one of Jenny’s delivery trucks,” Connor said. “The best of Oakdale, right here.”
The coordinators signaled it was time to get rolling, and Ernesto jumped into the cab while Connor helped Sam clamber into the back of the truck.
“My complete lack of tailgate experience is showing,” Sam grumbled as Connor steadied him, one hand on the bar across the rear window. Ernesto started the engine, and the truck lurched forward.
“You’ve got to admit, this is hilarious,” Connor said.
Sam laughed. “Isn’t it? Brian said he’s here with Jules and the kids. At least they’ll get a kick out of it.”
The convoy of floats inched forward onto Main Street, which was lined on both sides with cheering spectators.
“Smile and wave, Sam.” Connor reached for the bag of T-shirts they’d had printed and began launching them into the crowd.
Sam was tossing candy down to the kids, and Ernesto gave a series of loud honks from the driver’s seat as they crawled their way along the street.
Connor saw his mother standing next to Sam’s mom, both frantically waving.
After his dad’s hospital stay, the two of them had started spending more time together.
Sam’s mom would stop by the house to take Connor’s mother out for coffee or a movie.
Connor knew his mom looked forward to their outings as she often found herself stuck at home navigating his father’s care.
Recently, she’d enrolled in a correspondence course to get her accounting diploma.
She told him she’d spent enough time helping his dad with the business accounts and might as well get qualified for it.
It also meant she could take some of the pressure off him.
Connor still had dreams of leaving, not for good but to see more of the world and understand his place in it.
With his mom as admin backup and Ernesto getting closer to sitting his journeyman electrician licensing exam, that was looking more and more like a possibility.
When the lease on Sam’s apartment had come up, Connor had suggested they move in together.
It was more of a logical eventuality than a big next step.
Sam spent most nights at his place anyway and had already taken over half of Connor’s wardrobe.
To his utter delight, Sam agreed. The first thing they did was hang a map of the world on the living room wall and circle all the places they wanted to visit.
Deciding to start small, they’d planned a trip to Mexico City in the fall.
It would be the first proper holiday Connor had taken, and even better, he had someone to share it with.
“This is actually kind of fun,” Sam announced beside him.
“You don’t say,” Connor agreed, unable to resist waving at a group of sullen-looking tweens.
Sam turned to him then, his eyes shining. “Kiss me.”
Connor blinked. “What?”
“I’m not afraid anymore.” Sam’s cheeks flushed. “You’re right. Who gives a shit what people think?”
Connor grinned, so in awe of this man who had walked the school halls proudly in vintage shirts, had navigated the pain of teenage humiliation, and had come out the other side.
“You really are something, Sammy Bryant.”
“All right, Finnis, that’s enough out of you.”
Then Sam grabbed the front of Connor’s overalls and pulled him in for a kiss. All around them, the crowd cheered.