Chapter 19. #2
The burgers go down like butter. The insanely tasty fries, too.
Mrs. Tucker—Billy’s aforementioned mom—waves at me from the kitchen through the partition window as we’re heading out, only to stop short, rush to the swinging door with her gloved hands full of suds, and shout, “TJ! Who’s your friend there?
Wait a sec.” She snaps her fingers—which makes no sound considering her hand’s gloved and wet.
“Austin! Billy told me you had a friend in town. Is that you? Are you this Austin fellow?”
“The one and only,” he says with a warm smile.
“Billy’s my son,” she explains. “How nice to meet you!”
Austin returns a nod. “Pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”
Mrs. Tucker holds her hands up in front of her like a freshly-scrubbed surgeon ready for the OR.
“TJ, honey, you should’ve told me you were bringin’ your friend, I’d have come out and said hi!
I was back here the whole time chewin’ my husband’s ear off about Tanner’s kids.
You heard the team made it all the way to Regional Finals this year?
I mean, it’s baseball in the spring, but it’s all the same boys as football, and—Gosh, I don’t gotta explain the whole thing, do I?
Oh, and that freaky storm we just had! What was that?
Never mind. How long are you in town for, Austin? ”
“Through the Fourth and a few days after, ma’am.”
“Oh, so you’ll be here for Cissy’s barbecue!
Good! William and I will be there, too. Okay, okay, I won’t keep you anymore.
You’ve got better things to do, I’m sure.
Go, go, skidoo! Get on out before I talk you to death.
Seriously, though, that storm.” She swats at me.
“And let me know next time you bring a friend into town so I can be better prepared for you, will you? I’d have had William throw in his secret sauce on your burgers.
” Then after a wink, back into the kitchen she goes, no further questions asked.
It’s only then I realize Austin and I are still holding hands.
Did she not notice? Or just not make a big deal out of it?
“Like I said, I’m pretty sure people already know,” I’m telling Austin as we pass through Spruce Park. The ducks aren’t here, I’m sad to report. I guess Little A has Little Duck Mob business to deal with. “See the look on Mrs. Tucker’s face? Barely batted an eye!”
Austin pockets his phone—he just checked it for a third time since we left the diner—and chuckles. “Life out here sure seems as easy as breathin’. Does anyone in this town have drama?”
“All of them. Don’t let looks deceive you. You just won’t know it until you’re here long enough.”
“Wish I could stay longer.” He chuckles to himself as he walks by my side along the path, our arms grazing. “I’ve sure enjoyed my time with you this past week.”
I wonder if that’s what’s got him moody today. “Y’know you’re welcome to come back anytime. I mean, your tour does come to an end eventually, right?”
He nods. “Of course it does.” Then his walking slows.
“Though afterwards, it’s likely back to Nashville.
Meetings with the label. A ton of discussions on the next big move for Chase Holt.
Upcoming album. Everyone’s got an opinion.
Label, producers, Ian, all of ‘em. What’s gonna sell.
What won’t. What I need to sound like.” He lets out a huff, then shrugs as he gazes at me. “My life gets loud.”
Loud, he says, as we stroll along through the peace and quiet of Spruce Park. “I see.” I study his face. “That gets to you, huh?”
“No worries. Better to enjoy the time we’ve got, right?”
“Right,” I agree halfheartedly. We both fall silent, continuing to walk along the path. Then: “So you live in Nashville?”
“Not permanently. I have a place there, but it’s mostly just for writing.
It’s a mess. My family home’s outside Dallas, as you know.
I try to visit as much as I can.” He squirms. “Well, that’s a lie.
I … I always feel like I’m troublin’ my mom, so I don’t visit as much as I should.
All of my siblings are all over the place.
Tough to get them together, even for holidays.
I miss feeling that sense of family. I didn’t scatter them.
Chase Holt did,” he mutters, like a joke.
“First thing you learn when you taste success in this business: you have to make sacrifices. Can’t have it all. ”
I think about the sacrifices I’ve made in my years pursuing my parents’ dream in college. And what my life might look like a year from now when I’m graduated and staring at spreadsheets in that cute, plushie-filled office behind my house.
“I think you can have it all,” I state.
“That so?” he asks lamely.
He doesn’t believe me. “I do.” I come to a stop on the path and pull him to a stop, too.
“I think we have more power in our lives than we ever give ourselves credit for. No matter how stuck you think you are. No matter how much power you believe everyone else in your life has over you … I believe we can have it all.”
His sexy lips spread into a smile. “You’re so adorable.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Me too.” He wraps his arms around me right then, pulling me close.
“You can really make me believe in anything, TJ, y’know that?
I swear, I step foot into your life for one week, and now I’m picturing myself with Glorious out in the country with you by my side, lying on my back in a field of grass, lost in the chords, nothin’ around me but the sweet air, the music, and you. ”
I can literally see that picture in Austin’s eyes right now.
The warmth of the sun in his eyes. The way the tall grass can whisper with the right breeze. The strumming of his guitar.
“That’s a beautiful picture,” I murmur. “Though … if you’re aiming for realism here, that sweet air you’re imagining probably smells more like distant animal manure …”
“It can smell like whatever it wants as long as it’s mine.” He kisses me, a surprise, then adds, “As long as you’re mine.”
Then we kiss again. And again.
I remember one of his first observations of Spruce was seeing two guys kissing under a tree. Now here we are, as free as ducks flying from pond to pond, making a home wherever we please, a new couple of guys kissing under our own tree.
We really can have it all, right?
We end the night at the Strong Fitness Zone, only because I happened to mention the big rock wall, and Austin says something about never, ever being allowed to do anything fun on tour.
“You kiddin’ me?” he cries out when he sees it, stunned by the height and the complexity, ranging from the easier climbs on the left to the crazy ones on the right. “Where the hell do I harness up?”
“I can help with that,” comes a voice from behind.
When we turn, there stands Cole Harding, my absurdly good-looking pal in his fitted polo uniform shirt. “Cole!” I cry out.
“You’ve been home for how long and I only just now get to see you?
” he teases me before we give each other a quick hug.
“Bobby said you’re in town and only saw you once.
Not that I—” His eyes fall on Austin, which shuts him up.
I watch his mind work as he glances back and forth between us, completely caught off-guard.
I make a quick introduction. “Austin, this is Cole, the friend I told you about. And Cole, this is Austin.” After a brief pause, I add: “My boyfriend.”
Something clicks in Cole’s eyes.
I think he just congratulated himself privately for making the right interpretation.
Cole extends a hand. “Hey there, Austin. I’m TJ’s ‘hometown confidant’. Interpret that as you wish. It’s TJ’s words.” He tilts his head. “You look familiar, by the way. You from around here?”
Austin and I exchange a look before he replies, “Nah, afraid not. Dallas area, born n’ mostly raised. Met TJ just off his campus.”
“Hmm.” It’s still working over in Cole’s head. “I swear …”
I squeeze in. “Austin here really wants to get his hands on one of these walls. Think you can hook him up, Cole? I’ve gotta make a quick trip to the boys’ room.”
Cole’s work mind snaps right back into place. “You got it! Hey, Mr. Austin, my new buddy, are you ready for your junk to get very uncomfortably acquainted with a harness?”
Austin blinks, gives that question one second’s consideration, then shrugs. “Why the hell not.”
With Austin in good hands, I head to the restrooms nearby to do my business—I’ve kinda been suffering since halfway through our walk in the park, to be honest—and find my sweet relief at an exceptionally clean urinal.
The sigh I let out literally turns vocal.
The relief is short-lived. My phone buzzes when I’m washing my hands.
AJ calling.
I’m riding such a high right now, I should really just set things straight between us and let him off the hook.
Acknowledge that he hurt me, but that I’m fine.
Forgive him fully. Then ask him how his conquest with Paris is going.
After all, you can’t expect to conquer the capital of France in half a summer.
I barely pat my hands dry on my shorts before I answer the phone. “AJ!” I greet him, overjoyed.
He shouts back: “What the heck, bro?! You and the Chase Holt are dating?!”