Chapter 3
Marcus
“You want me to be the officiant?” I balked, staring at Beau from across my desk. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Beau smiled, his fingers running over the brim of the cowboy hat in his lap. “Lucas is sure, too. You’re the sheriff and an important man in this town. Not to mention we’ve been friends since the fourth grade.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d known Beau Turner my entire life, sure.
We’d grown up together in this small town, gone through school together, and I’d watched him take over his family’s ranch when his father was ready to retire.
But officiating his wedding? That felt like a whole different level of responsibility.
“I appreciate the offer,” I started carefully, “but don’t you want someone with more experience? Like Pastor Tom or—”
“Pastor Tom retired last month,” Beau interrupted gently. “Moved to Arizona to be with his daughter. The new guy won’t be here for another two weeks. And besides, this isn’t about experience. It’s about having someone who knows us, someone who’s on our side.”
I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking beneath me.
Through my office window, I could see Main Street, quiet as always in the late afternoon.
It was the same street I’d patrolled thousands of times in my police truck.
And probably hundreds of times before that as a kid when my father was sheriff of Sagebrush.
“I don’t know, Beau…” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it. You know I’m on your side, like you said. But…”
“It’s a gay weddin’,” Beau nodded. “I understand.” He leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice. “This town is changin’, Marcus. Gay men are the reason this town is coming back to life. I don’t see why you should have to hide just because you’re the sheriff.”
“It’s an elected position,” I found myself saying. “If I do somethin’ like this… it could mean I lose the next race.”
Beau sat back once more with a small sigh. But there was no venom in it. Out of anyone in town, Beau understood most what the weight of expectation felt like. He and Lucas were a match made in heaven. My life, however, was not so magical.
“I know,” he said quietly. “And I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to us.
To me.” He fidgeted with his hat some more, his blue eyes meeting mine with an earnestness that made my chest tight.
“You’ve been a good friend, Marcus. one of the few people in this town who didn’t treat me different when Lucas came into my life. That means somethin’.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over me like a heavy blanket.
He was right, of course. I’d never treated Beau any differently after Lucas showed up.
How could I? I understood what it was like to hide who you really were, to keep that part of yourself locked away where no one could see it.
“Besides,” Beau added. “It’s more of an honorary position, anyway. We’ll have to get married by a judge or a pastor to make it official thanks to state law.”
I let out a deep sigh. “When’s the wedding?” I heard myself ask.
“Late April. The twenty-ninth.” Beau’s face lit up with hope. “You don’t have to decide right now. Think about it, talk it over with yourself. But it would mean the world to both of us if you’d say yes.”
I nodded slowly, my mind already racing through the implications.
Standing up in front of the whole town—because damn near everyone would come to see the Turner boy get married—and officiating a ceremony between two men.
It would be a statement, whether I wanted it to be or not.
People would talk. They’d wonder. They’d speculate about why the sheriff was so comfortable with it all.
And some of them might figure it out.
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally. “Give me a few days?”
“Take all the time you need.” Beau stood, placing his hat back on his head with a practiced motion. “We’ve still got a month to figure things out. Lucas’s friend Xavier just got into town yesterday to start plannin’ everything. You’ll probably meet him soon enough. He’s stayin’ out at the ranch.”
I’d heard about Xavier. The whole town had been buzzing about the wedding planner from New York City who was coming to orchestrate the Turner wedding. Apparently, he could turn heads, whatever that meant, though I hadn’t heard much beyond that.
“I’m sure I will,” I said, standing to walk Beau to the door. “Give Lucas my best.”
“Will do.” Beau paused at the threshold, turning back to look at me. “Marcus? I meant what I said. This town is changin’. You aren’t as alone as you think, you know?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said automatically, hearing myself deny his implications. “But I’ll let you know what I decide.”
Beau’s expression shifted, but he nodded and placed his hat back on his head. “Thanks buddy. I’ll talk to ya later.”
I sat still, carefully guarding my expression until I heard the door close behind Beau. Once again, I was alone in my office, nothing but the thoughts buzzing around in my head to keep me company.
I stared at the closed door for a long moment, then dropped my head into my hands with a groan.
Of course Beau would ask me to officiate. Of course he’d do it in that earnest, heartfelt way that made it damn near impossible to say no. And of course he’d see right through me, mention that I wasn’t as alone as I thought. Like he knew. Like he could tell.
Maybe he could. Beau had always been perceptive, even as kids.
He’d been the one to notice when I was struggling in algebra back in high school, the one who’d offered to study with me without making a big deal about it.
And now he was offering me something else—a chance to be visible, to stand up in front of the town and show where I stood on things that mattered.
I just wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
Now, I wasn’t completely in denial. I knew what I was. I’d known since I was thirteen years old. And I also knew, much younger than that, that being gay was one of the biggest sins a man could commit in rural Texas. So, I did everything I could to hide it.
That’s why I took my quarterly long weekend to Austin and had as much sex as possible.
There was a bathhouse there with dim lighting, lots of men, and no names exchanged.
A weekend there was enough to get it out of my system so I could come back to Sagebrush and continue to honor my family’s good name.
And the last thing I wanted to do was tarnish a reputation built over three generations of Sagebrush sheriffs.
My phone buzzed on the desk, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at the screen. It was just a notification about a noise complaint on the edge of town. Mrs. Henderson’s dog again, probably. I’d deal with it later.
I stood and walked to the window, looking out at the quiet street.
A couple of trucks were parked outside Dolly’s Diner, and I could see old Frank Hancock sitting on the bench outside the hardware store, probably waiting for someone to chat with.
This was my town. These were my people. And I’d spent my entire adult life making sure they were safe, making sure they trusted me to do the job my father and grandfather had done before me.
But what Beau was asking me to do... it wasn’t just about officiating a wedding. It was about taking a stand, about being visible in a way I’d never allowed myself to be.
I thought about those weekends in Austin, about the anonymous encounters in dark rooms where nobody knew my name or my title. Where I could just be myself for a few hours before driving back to Sagebrush and locking that part of me away again. It worked. It had worked for years.
Except lately, it hadn’t been working as well as it used to.
Lately, I’d been feeling the weight of it more—the hiding, the pretending, the careful distance I kept from everyone in town.
Seeing all those happy guys down at Dolly’s, singing karaoke and living free and proud…
it made the cage I’d built for myself seem smaller and smaller.
I rubbed my face with both hands, feeling the stubble on my jaw. I needed a shave. I needed a lot of things, actually, but a shave was at least manageable.
The phone buzzed again. This time it was Dolly.
“Sheriff? You gonna come deal with this situation or what?” Her voice crackled through the speaker.
“What situation?” I asked, already reaching for my hat.
“That New York wedding planner is in my diner causin’ a scene. Says my coffee tastes like ‘burnt sadness’ and wants to know if I’ve ever heard of a French press.” She paused. “I’m about two seconds from pressin’ him right out the damn front door.”
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my mouth. “I’ll be right there.”
“You better be. And bring your handcuffs in case I need to be restrained from committin’ a homicide.”
The line went dead.
I grabbed my hat and keys, almost grateful for the distraction. Dealing with a difficult city boy was easier than dealing with the mess in my head. I headed out of my office, nodding to Mrs. Baxter, my middle-aged secretary, as I passed through the station.
“Everything alright, Sheriff?” she asked, looking up from her paperwork.
“Just headed to Dolly’s. Apparently, we’ve got a situation.”
She grinned. “A situation Dolly can’t handle alone? Seems unlikely. Last I remember, she led a wanted fugitive to the front door of the police station with a shotgun.”
“Yeah, but he was alive,” I corrected. “And this wedding planner from New York is apparently driving her to think twice about pulling the trigger.”
“Someone got under Dolly’s skin that much, huh?” she laughed, straightening her glasses. “That’s talent.”
“More like a death wish,” I said, settling my hat on my head. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
The drive to Dolly’s took all of three minutes. One of the perks, or drawbacks, depending on how you looked at it, of living in a town this size was that everything was within spitting distance. I pulled my truck into a spot right in front of the diner and killed the engine.
Through the big front windows, I could see the situation Dolly had mentioned.
There was a man standing at the counter, and even from outside, I could tell he wasn’t from around here.
He was wearing tight jeans that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage payment, a mesh crop top that showed off his smooth, tanned stomach, and his dark hair was styled in a way that definitely required product. Lots of product.
This had to be the wedding planner, Xavier. And… my god… he was gorgeous.
He was gesturing animatedly at Dolly, who stood behind the counter with her arms crossed and that look on her face that usually preceded someone getting thrown out.
A few of the regulars were watching the exchange with varying degrees of amusement.
I recognized Frank and Jack at their usual booth, both of them grinning like they were watching the best entertainment Sagebrush had seen in months.
I took a deep breath and headed inside.
The bell above the door chimed, and several heads turned my direction. Xavier didn’t notice. He was too busy making his point.
“Girl, I’m not trying to be difficult,” he was saying, his voice carrying that sharp East Coast accent.
“I love your retro vibe here and your getup. The nails are incredible, by the way,” he added, gesturing to Dolly’s bright red acrylics.
“But I’m just saying that your coffee game needs some work, that’s all. ”
“Thank the Lord,” Dolly said, her eyes coming to rest on me. “Sheriff, arrest this man.”
Xavier looked between me and Dolly. “For what?!”
“For insultin’ my coffee, that’s what,” she barked. “And being, excuse my language, unpleasant.”