Chapter 5
Will
“What’s wrong?” Julie puts down the book she’s been reading.
“Nothing. Had a little accident at work.” Will tries not to grimace as he takes a seat next to Julie’s bed. He doesn’t have any bruises on his face, but what’s beneath his clothes is a different matter. “Martha told me you had trouble sleeping.”
“My back is killing me. They’ll have someone come over tomorrow to help me with some exercises.”
“Maybe we should take a trip around the area or sit in the garden.”
“I think I’ll take a pass on catching pneumonia, thank you very much. What accident did you have?”
The kind I was insane to get myself into.
Parts of that night are still a blur in his head. If it weren’t for the bruises, he would have dismissed it as a bad dream. He remembers drinking too much at Rodie’s, then making his sluggish way back home. Before he could get inside, Nate showed up, insisting on helping.
He remembers with a degree of clarity the conversation they had on the couch.
He wanted Nate to leave, but he was too drunk to throw him out.
Then came the touching, which he didn’t want, but he was too distracted by trying to stay awake.
Before he knew it, Nate got down on his knees and began to suck him.
They had a fight over Joel shortly after, and Will…
The rest is even more of a blur, but he remembers enough to feel ill and disgusted by what he allowed to happen. And yes, he did allow it—no point pretending otherwise.
He spent all day at home watching TV in an attempt to distract his brain, but it didn’t work, so he decided to go see Julie and grab dinner at Rodie’s instead. He won’t be able to work for at least a day, unless he sticks to office work, which he doesn’t like.
“Will, what accident did you have?” Julie asks again, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“I stumbled over a log and took a nasty fall. I’ll be as good as new in a couple of days.”
“You better keep yourself safe, baby brother. I’m in no position to take care of you.”
“Me being thirty should stop you from calling me baby brother.”
“I must have missed that memo.” She reaches for his hand and holds it. Her skin is cold and dry, but he welcomes the touch. “Is there anyone who is taking care of you?”
He takes a deep breath, hating the concern in her voice. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
“I know there isn’t a gay scene around here, but maybe if you drive to—”
“Julie, I’m good. Promise.” The last thing he needs is to complicate his life further with anything related to a gay scene while he’s living in Van Buren.
His dying sister watches him with pity, which says a lot. He changes the subject and asks her about the book she’s been reading. She can talk about books till the cows come home, but it doesn’t take her long to grow tired. Will kisses her head and tells her to go to sleep.
He leaves the hospice and makes his way toward Rodie’s.
It should be a ten-minute walk, but it takes him more than twenty.
By the time he reaches the place, his breath is heavy and his skin is damp.
He waits until the pain eases up before stepping into the upbeat sound of country music, the thick smell of cigarettes, and a whole lot of loud chatter.
Bradley waves him over from what has become their regular table. It’s far enough from the speakers and close enough to the pool area. He makes an effort to walk normally, but the pain in his ribs makes him grimace. He slumps into his seat and exhales.
“Shit, what happened to you?”
“Slipped when I stepped out of the shower. Hurt my back.”
“Did you try to shower right after you got home? Man, you were so wasted. I didn’t even notice you drank so much.”
Neither did I. “Yeah, it was after I got home. I should’ve been more careful.” He signals Becky to bring him a beer.
“Here you go, handsome.” She places the tall glass in front of him.
“Thanks.” He takes a long sip, telling himself he isn’t going to drink more than one. He usually goes for two or three, but he clearly needs to reevaluate his limit. “I won’t come to work tomorrow. Can you guys handle it on your own for a bit?”
“It will be hard without your sixth sense, but we’ll manage.” Bradley frowns at the entrance. “You know this guy?”
Will turns to look, grimacing at the stiffness in his back.
It’s rare to see anyone new in Van Buren since tourists don’t have a reason to stop by.
The young man who just walked in is tall, even taller than Will.
He’s on the skinny side; his hair as dark as a crow and reaching past his shoulders.
There’s a bruise on the side of his handsome face—no, not handsome—pretty.
He seems uncomfortable as he stands with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket.
“Hey, over here!”
Will turns to see Bradley waving the stranger over. “What are you doing?”
“He obviously doesn’t know anyone. My mama raised me to be hospitable.”
Looking suspicious, the stranger comes over. “Um, hello.”
“You visiting town?” Bradley asks.
“Sort of. I’ll be living here for a while, staying at my aunt’s house.”
“Oh, sweet. You look like a city boy.”
Will sighs. He never met anyone who is as fond of talking as Bradley.
“I’m from Kansas City, so I guess that makes me a city boy. I’m Owen. Nice to meet you guys.”
“I’m Bradley, and this here is Will. He’s a bit bruised, so don’t ask him to dance.”
Will glares at Bradley, who chuckles and signals Owen to join them.
Once Owen sits, facing Will, Bradley calls Becky over to take Owen’s order. He asks for gin and tonic, which makes Becky shout, “Yo, Bill, bring out the fancy shit!”
“Why are you bruised?” Owen asks Will, which is ironic because he’s the one sitting with a nasty bruise on his face.
“A shower accident,” Bradley answers. “Will rarely showers, but when he does, it’s chaos.”
Owen laughs, then apologizes. Will kicks Bradley under the table and asks, “What happened to you?”
Owen crosses his arms and leans back. “I was in a fight, but I’d rather not get into it.”
“Ooh, big city secrets.” Bradley rubs his hands. “Maybe things will be more interesting around here. It will sure beat hearing about another dead junkie.”
“You guys get a lot of those?” Owen asks.
“Yeah, like every few weeks. Mostly young folks, but sometimes they’re older. Last month it was a mother of three.” He shakes his head. “Nasty business, and our useless sheriff is way over his head, but don’t quote me on that, ’cause the man has fans around here.”
Becky brings Owen his gin and tonic, and Bradley asks what they should toast to.
Owen frowns as he thinks, making Will wonder how old he is to be looking both young and old. “I guess we can drink to new beginnings,” Owen says, “and to not fucking things up.”
They clink their drinks, then talk about what there is to do around town, which isn’t much, though there are beautiful trails around the area, which Owen seems excited to explore.
When Bradley announces he needs to take a dump, Will is left alone with Owen.
He doesn’t see himself as shy, but he can’t remember the last time he was alone with a stranger.
Even his clients are the same people he worked with for years.
“So, what do you do?” Owen asks, holding his glass with long and delicate fingers.
“I’m a lumberjack.”
“Oh, cool.”
Though it shouldn’t matter, Will feels the need to add, “I run my own business, actually. Bradley and two others work for me, and sometimes we hire more people if we need to.”
“Oh, wow. A businessman.”
Will laughs. A real businessman would likely take offense at such a comparison. “It’s just a small business. Nothing to write home about. We specialize in high-quality wood.”
“Is there really such a thing? I mean, I’m sure there is if that’s your job. Sorry.”
“It’s all right. Not all trees are the same. Most people can’t tell the difference, but some do. What about you?”
“I definitely can’t tell the difference between one piece of wood and another.”
“I meant what you do for work.”
“Oh.” He shifts in his seat. “Well, it’s complicated.”
“Didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I used to study art. My father hated it, but I convinced him to pay for it because I’m an only child and used to be a spoiled brat.”
Will laughs. “Spoiled brats usually don’t call themselves that.”
“I’m a recovered spoiled brat. I wanted to work in advertising and someday have my own studio for graphic design. Have you ever used Photoshop? It came out like two years ago, and it’s wild.”
Will has never heard of something called Photoshop, but he likes the spark in Owen’s eyes as he speaks. You can tell whenever someone feels passionate about something. “I never heard of it, but you’re using the past tense. That plan didn’t work out?”
Owen twitches his lips, which are very pink. “Things… happened, but I’ll get back to it someday. I miss art. For now, I just want to focus on getting settled here and not pissing off my aunt.”
“What’s her name? Van Buren folks know everyone.” Which was a curse for Will when the shit with Joel took place.
“My aunt’s name is Sheryl. She’s a police officer. You know her?”
Will tries to keep his emotions away from his face. Does he know her? Yeah, he fucking does, and he’ll be a damn fool to have anything to do with any family member of hers. Besides, it’s not like she’ll ever let her nephew be friendly with Will, which makes this whole conversation rather pointless.
“I know her,” he says flatly, just when Bradley returns to his seat.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Will leaves a bill on the table. “Sorry, boys, but I need to take a painkiller and go to bed.”
“You sure? It’s super early,” Bradley says, while Owen watches Will with a frown.
“Yeah, I’m beat. Have a nice evening.”
He makes his way out into the chilly night, feeling he dodged a bullet.
*