2
Courtland
There's no such thing as a good time to die, but if there was, Grandpa Arnie couldn't have picked a better time to go.
It's three days before Thanksgiving, which means the annual migration of ex-townies will be in full swing, ensuring a healthy turnout for his funeral.
A fitting sendoff for a man I revered as a kid but didn't get to spend anywhere near enough time with as an adult.
I blow past the 45 speed limit sign, not wanting to be late.
I love fall in Maine, but late fall, with its bare, leafless trees and overcast gray skies, is hardly picture-postcard pretty.
I zip up my hoodie and crank the heater.
From the passenger seat, my phone lights up.
I swipe to answer and hit the speaker button. I tried pairing my phone with the rental’s Bluetooth at the airport but couldn't get the damn thing to connect, my brain too jet-lagged from the flight that would not end.
I answer the call, and the deep, familiar timbre I’ve missed so much washes over me.
"Good to have you back on US soil, buddy."
"Hey, Buzz," I say.
"Thought I'd never make it."
"What happened?"
Buzz got held over for a second tour—forty-eight hours straight at the fire station—so we've been out of touch. It's taken me about the same amount of time to make it home.
I groan as I recount the nightmare journey from the beginning.
"Flight out of Nairobi was delayed twelve hours due to mechanical issues. I missed my Frankfurt connection. Grabbed a crappy bratwurst from a kiosk near the Lufthansa gates that gave me stomach cramps while I tried to get some rest on the world’s most uncomfortable airport chair that my lower back won't be forgetting anytime soon. Finally got on a flight to Boston. Circled over Logan for half an hour due to strong crosswinds. We eventually got diverted to Albany."
"That sounds like hell."
I pull the hood over my head.
"Hell would be warmer."
A shiver runs through me, my body struggling to adjust to the thirty-six-degree drop in temperature.
"Does that mean you're stuck in Albany?" he asks.
"Nope. I didn't want to wait for another flight, so I'm driving."
"Where are you now?"
I slow down as I approach the top contender for the most X-rated distance sign in the entire country.
Slutterville 7 → Loadsmouth 3 → Bumstead 38 → Clovelly 5
"Just passing the slut sign."
Buzz chuckles, and the sound reverberates through my chest, warming me up from the inside.
"Will we ever grow up and stop calling it that?"
I speed up again.
"Sure as hell hope not."
Brock Lightyear, known to everyone as Buzz for reasons that require no explaining, is my best friend in the world.
He's also the one who got away.
He's just one of the reasons why I don't return to our hometown of Clovelly as often as I should.
When I do, it's only ever for a short visit. My heart can only handle being near him for a few days at most. Anything longer, and an impossible longing stirs beneath my skin, desperate for something that was never meant to be.
Our parents made sure of that.
"So…you should be here in about an hour and a half,"
he calculates.
"More like an hour."
"Don't speed, Court," he warns.
"The roads are icy. You're exhausted. That's not a good combination."
Buzz has a deep, masculine voice, but when it hits that lower, protective register, it makes my heart race and my cock swell.
I check the odometer—55.
"I'm not speeding," I lie.
"Are you coming to the funeral?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I? Grandpa Arnie was like a grandfather to me growing up."
"Because you've barely slept for the last two days. Please don't feel obligated to come."
"I can sleep later. Besides, I'm not going to miss the chance to see my favorite person in the world."
My heart kicks into overdrive.
Low, protective, and unknowingly flirty?
Kill me right fucking now.
"You mean Old Man Hatfield?" I joke.
"Exactly,"
Buzz jokes back.
"Dude's been working out. His ass only hangs halfway down his hamstrings now."
I laugh and cringe at the same time. "Gross."
"Listen, I've got a few things to wrap up here at the station."
"Go. Don't let me keep you."
"All right. Hey, Court?"
"Yeah?"
"It's good to have you back home."
Another shiver races through me, and I grip the steering wheel tighter… I think I just came a little.