Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Jude
“Man, that took far longer than anticipated.”
I felt the need to apologize to Carson again as we ate our burgers. Same brewery. Same order. We were both creatures of habit, something that amused me more than it should have.
“Buying always does.” Carson shrugged like spending over two hours haggling at a car dealership on a perfectly lovely Friday night was no hardship. “Sarah got the sale.”
“She did.” I smiled. I’d enjoyed hearing about Sarah’s recent graduation from Gunnison and her boyfriend, who would be in law school in the fall. Giving her the first sale of her post-college career had been a nice bonus. “And it is a sweet truck. For a Chevy.”
“Major upgrade.” Carson waggled his eyebrows at me. His obvious enjoyment of the truck might have had a little to do with my ultimate purchase. Just a little. Making him and Sarah happy had been almost worth the heartache of turning over Sarge’s keys at the end.
“I am sorry, though, that we’re eating so late.” I’d learned a long time ago that a delayed dinner could taste twice as good, but not everyone was as accustomed to pushing meal times.
“No problem.” Carson saluted me with a fry. “Less crowded.”
I glanced around the brewery. This time, we were seated closer to the patio, but the music wasn’t too loud.
The Friday-night dinner rush had thinned out to a few groups drinking near the bar, more on the patio, and a few other tables having food like us.
The overall vibe was mellow and in keeping with perfect late-summer weather.
“True.” I took a moment to appreciate the band, which had several couples out on the dancefloor for a sultry ballad. “More dancers to watch too.”
“Go on.” Chuckling, Carson made a shooing gesture. “Try your luck?”
“Nah. I’d rather talk with you.” I grinned at him before second-guessing sharing that sentiment. The last thing I wanted was any weird tension between us. I hadn’t come out to him as pan yet, and as far as I knew, Carson was straight. I tried for a more casual tone. “You were a big help tonight.”
“Eh.” A hint of color rose in Carson’s cheeks. “You negotiated well.”
“Thanks.” Overall, I was pleased with the deal. Carson might dislike the praise, but he truly had been a big help.
He’d pointed out a couple of things on the car report worth closer inspection. Simply having someone along had also been nicer than killing time waiting on the finance folks alone. “It’s going to be weird, though, driving home in anything other than Sarge.”
“Just wait.” Carson grinned, more of that mischievousness he didn’t show often. “Get a little mud on the tires.”
“You’re a country song waiting to happen,” I shot back.
Being able to bring out his playful side made me feel taller.
Stronger. Triumphant like after a hard procedure.
Carson might be a risk to my heart, but he sure was good for the ego.
I gazed out at the patio and the night beyond.
The sun was finally setting, the last tendrils of color disappearing from the sky.
“But not a bad idea. Nice, clear night. Not too cool. You up for a drive after dinner?”
“The canyon?” Carson didn’t disguise his eagerness.
Every kid who’d grown up in Lovelorn knew about Disappointment Canyon and the collection of state lands littered with skinny dirt roads perfect for teens bent on a fun escape. And perfect for a bit of off-roading while not going too far from home.
“Exactly what I was thinking.” The similar way in which we seemed to see the world was a pleasure I hadn’t had in years, a friendship connection where I didn’t have to waste time explaining or lobbying for my preferred outcome.
“See some stars. Get a little dust. See what the truck can do on gravel.”
“I’m down.” Carson took the last bite of his burger. “And I’m paying.”
He signaled for the server to bring our check, and his enthusiasm fueled my own.
Having a shiny new truck was more fun than I’d expected, not that I was planning on admitting that to Luna tomorrow.
We made our way back to the truck, which still had that ultra-clean car dealership scent.
It featured a touch screen and backup and hitch cams, novelties that added to my enjoyment.
“Truck needs a name,” Carson said as I headed out of Durango.
“Hmmm. Might help it feel more mine.” I mulled over the suggestion. “Big Red? Ronald?”
“Not a clown name.” Carson snorted. His full mouth pursed as he thought for a few minutes. “Cherry. Like the fruit.”
“That’s actually pretty perfect.” A tender place in my chest captured my next breath. I had to exhale before I could continue. “And Cherry was my mom’s name. She’d approve of the color and all the bells and whistles if not the make.”
“Good.” Carson nodded, the name apparently a done deal. “She drove a Ford?”
“Yep. One even older than dad’s work truck.
” I smiled at the memory of the old blue Ford she’d inherited from my dad’s parents and the countless afternoons spent bouncing down some back road or another with her.
“Mom could hitch a trailer, load feed, and cart a dozen chickens. She was pretty incredible. I miss her every day.”
“I’m sorry.” Carson managed to pack a great deal of sincerity into the simple words.
“When she got sick and had to go into Durango for dialysis on the regular, Dad bought her a used Ford sedan for better mileage.” My voice turned nostalgic at the memory of the two of them fretting over the purchase.
My dad might have been cheap, but his care for my mom had outweighed his thrift.
“She grumbled nonstop that she missed her truck.”
“I bet.” Carson leaned back in the seat. He was a true truck guy, all right. And both my parents would have liked him, a thought that made my chest pinch all over again. “Your folks got along?”
“Oh yeah.” I smiled at the chance to share.
Carson likely had few, if any, memories of his own parents together.
At least I had a few decades. “Theirs was a true love story. They met when he was on leave from basic training. She was an Oklahoma farm girl. Dad talked her into moving to Colorado when he processed out. He always said she was the perfect vet’s wife.
Delivered more than a few foals with him. ”
I conveniently left out how their compatible stoic natures had led to the late diagnosis of her kidney disease and how their mutual stubborn old-fashionedness could be maddening at times.
“My mom would approve.” Carson fiddled with the touch screen, finding all the stereo options.
“Yeah, Mom was friendly with your mom and your Aunt Georgia for sure. Everyone knew her and my dad. Curse and blessing of being the only vet around.”
“Small towns.” Carson used the same pragmatic tone I had.
“Truth.” I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, which was slightly slippery from whatever cleaner the dealer had used. “The town rallied around my parents as the medical bills started to mount because of Mom’s kidney disease. Part of why I enlisted. Didn’t want to be one more bill.”
I didn’t usually share that detail with others, but Carson and I had been talking about enlisting earlier. And I trusted him on a level I didn’t yet entirely understand.
“I get that.” Carson’s ready agreement said that financial pressures on his single-parent household had likely been a part of his own decision. “No kidney transplant?”
“No. I wasn’t a good match, and neither were Mom’s siblings back in Oklahoma.” I swallowed hard, the memory of that bitter disappointment achingly fresh even twenty years later. “Then Mom got sicker and wasn’t a good candidate in any event.”
“That sucks.”
“Yep.” Time for a change in subject. I couldn’t dwell too long in the land of the past, or I might get lost there. “Think I’ll keep the truck name though. And I gotta admit this thing drives like a dream.”
“Decent shocks.” Carson allowed the topic change as I’d known he would. “Chevy rides good.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I forced a laugh at his teasing, pushing thoughts of my parents aside. “All the upgrades.”
“You like it.” Carson deployed the sort of sing-song voice kids on the playground used for crushes.
What I liked—far too much, actually—was him. Couldn’t say that, so I settled for the childish, “I don’t hate it.”
“Uh-huh.” Carson gave a knowing sniff before flipping on the radio. “Hundred new stations.”
“And somehow, you’re gonna find the country.” I let us drift along to the music until we were on state lands, bumping down a windy, gravel road. “Damn, it is a nice night.”
“Yep.” Carson lowered his window, and I did the same, so that the crisp night air and forest scents of dirt and pine could fill the truck. Above us, a canopy of stars hung, practically begging to be admired.
“Stars are out. Wanna take a look?” I asked as I pulled into a clearing. No other cars around. Far from the town’s light pollution. Fine place to stop.
“Sure.” Carson followed me to the back of the truck, where we perched on the tailgate. The very spiffy tailgate with a built-in step and auto-lowering feature. Somewhere, my father was grumbling about unnecessary upgrades.
“Comfy.” Carson stretched back to admire the sky, hands behind his head.
“Okay, the sprayed-in bed liner is pretty sweet,” I admitted as I did the same.
Standing, I was decidedly taller, but lying back like this, our heads were at the same level.
And much, much too close. I ran my hand down the slick black truck liner to distract myself from how Carson smelled like the ocean, despite the nearest one being thousands of miles away.
“Told you.” Carson chuckled, apparently nowhere near as troubled by our proximity. His elbow bumped mine. “Chevy rules.”
“You win.” I made an exaggerated noise of defeat that earned a laugh from Carson.
His laughter petered out as we took in the stars above us. The vast, inky sky was filled with glittering stars, bright as diamond chips, whole universes hanging over us.
“North Star.” Carson pointed. I made out the Big Dipper and Little Dipper, along with other constellations.
“It never stops to amaze me that these are the same stars everywhere.” I braced against the onslaught of memories.
My grandfather had been the first to show me constellations, and later, my father on rare camping trips, and various Scout and 4-H leaders.
I’d seen many a sky, but something about Southwest Colorado was special.
“Used to make me homesick on deployment.”
“Me too.” Carson’s tone was equally wistful. “Nothing like Colorado.”
He gestured around us, a sweeping movement that brought him closer to my side, our arms brushing.
“Yeah. Can’t imagine living anywhere else.” I inhaled more of his ocean-like scent. Damn. I needed a distraction and quick. “What was your favorite duty station?”
“Virginia wasn’t bad.” Carson used an offhand tone. “But it’s not Colorado.”
“I feel that.” Homesickness had been a major reason why I’d processed out as soon as I was able to go on ready reserve and use my education benefits.
“At first…hated being back.” Carson shifted, rolling to one side. His expression was deeply thoughtful, as mysterious as the universes the stars could only hint at. “But right now…it’s good.”
“I’m glad.” And I was. Glad we were here. Glad I’d reached out, glad for this growing friendship, glad he’d found some measure of peace and happiness post-discharge. I wanted him to love being home for reasons best not considered right now.
I held his gaze, powerless to look away.
The energy between us crackled, a cosmic event in its own right.
A meteor could have landed next to the truck, and my attention wouldn’t have wavered from Carson.
The slightest roll of my own, and we’d be face-to-face.
A small arm stretch, and we’d be touching.
He didn’t move away, and his eyes never left mine.
Carson could park a literal tank, and like all transportation corps soldiers, he likely had legendary spatial awareness.
He knew exactly how close we were, yet he stayed put.
Statistics probability equations I hadn’t used since college crowded my brain as I calculated the chances he might welcome a move.
I’d seldom had so much riding on being right.
Carson was the best potential friend I’d had in years. Did I really want to risk our growing friendship? A vision of my solitary kitchen flashed before my eyes, a reminder of the loneliness that awaited me if I were wrong.
Even so, I wanted with the force of a solar storm. The heat represented by each tiny star above had nothing on the heat coursing through me. Maybe—
“Should get back.” Abruptly, Carson sat up. The moment that had stretched on and on disappeared into a black hole of nothingness. Had he given up on waiting for me? Had I done the right thing in resisting the pull between us?
I had no clue. Not a one. I hoisted myself up to sitting, rubbing at my bleary eyes.
“Yeah, let’s get you back to the ranch.” And me back to my silent home. The loneliness I’d sought to avoid threatened to swamp me anyway. The only consolation I had was that at least I hadn’t lost a friend over a single impulsive action.
But oh, how I wanted.