Chapter 2
Chapter Two
For as long as Cal had known Austin, his best friend’s favorite time of day had been when dusk bled into night and the sky erupted with stars.
Cal, by contrast, preferred early mornings, when a day dawned fresh and clean. Where anything could happen and the hours ahead of him provided opportunities to get shit done.
What he didn’t love was when his mother called on his day off before he’d even had his morning coffee.
“I need eggs.”
He set down the journal article he’d been reading about sustainable agriculture while the coffee brewed and the bread toasted and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Fuck. He shouldn’t have answered.
Annoyance slithered silky like a snake through his veins, oily and thick. Resentment wasn’t far behind, gripping his chest in a fist so tight he struggled to draw breath.
“Two dozen,” his mom continued, her voice as scratchy as it has always been, owing to genetics or an adolescence smoking or something else. Cal didn’t know. “Two boxes of the cereal with the raisins—you know the one. OJ with extra pulp, frozen chicken fingers, blueberries, and cookies. The ones with the jelly in the middle. But not the raspberry jelly—the strawberry. Make sure you deliver everything by two. I need the eggs for later.”
She hung up without another word.
Setting the phone down on the table, Cal blew out a deliberately long breath. Cracked his neck from side to side. Rolled his shoulders back to relieve the tension that a twenty-second one-sided conversation had spawned.
He would not—would not —let his mother’s call derail his day or sour his mood. Grabbing the annoyance and resentment, he squished them into a ball and hid them behind layers and layers of old emotions, locking them down tight. He could—and would—ignore the fact that she hadn’t bothered with pleasantries. That was nothing new. Or asked how he was doing. That was nothing new too. Or signed off with an I love you .
Cal couldn’t remember the last time she’d said those words to him, if ever. In his house, whether he’d lived with his mom or his dad, if he wasn’t contributing in some fashion, he wasn’t worth the cost of the mattress he slept on.
He was old enough to legally work? He was expected to get a part-time job and contribute financially.
He was old enough to drive? He better pass his driver’s test so he could run errands farther than his bicycle could take him.
He had a Saturday off? He was expected to do yard work and meal prep for the week.
Cal couldn’t remember having much downtime as a kid. In fact, up until the MacIsaacs—Austin’s parents—had taken him in the summer before their senior year of high school, he hadn’t known that he could sit still for five minutes without someone demanding something from him. They’d taught him what family was supposed to mean, whereas his mom had shipped him off to his dad’s in nearby Idaho when she’d gotten fed up with raising him, and his dad had mostly ignored him.
If Austin hadn’t begged his parents to take him in, Cal wasn’t sure where he would’ve ended up as an adult. Not as the foreman of a prosperous cattle ranch, that was for damn sure.
Cal did owe his dad some measure of credit, though—if it hadn’t been for him getting Cal a job as a stablehand at the ranch he worked on, Cal never would’ve discovered his love of ranching. He’d fallen in love with horses the first time Austin had brought him to Windsor Ranch with his mom to wreak havoc—to be fair, Austin was usually the instigator—but it was his job at the ranch in Idaho that had fed his love of ranching.
Not wanting to dwell on crappy childhood memories, he poured coffee into two insulated mugs, spread jam on half his toasted slice of bread before folding it in two, then headed out, one mug tucked into the crook of his elbow while he ate.
Whereas a foreman usually lived on the ranch they worked on, Cal had his own home a few minutes away from Windsor Ranch. He’d lived on the ranch for a bit after getting promoted to foreman, just long enough to save money and buy his own place. He’d spent his entire life living with other people; by the time he’d made foreman, he’d been ready to be on his own.
From his house in one of Windsor’s many middle-class neighborhoods, the walk to Windsor Town Square in the heart of town was an easy fifteen minutes under a cloudless blue sky. Despite the morning chill, he warmed quickly on his walk, and by the time he reached the Saturday market in the square, he was regretting his decision to toss a flannel shirt over his T-shirt.
The market was a Windsor institution and ran every Saturday from the first week of June to the end of August. White tents housed vendors selling everything from local honey to cowboy hats to genuine leather belts to pottery.
At the end of a row, where he’d paid a small fortune for two end spots from which to sell his photographs, Austin sat at the tiny folding table that held his laptop.
Cal’s steps stuttered, a heartbeat where every wish painted itself against his eyelids. But then he squared his shoulders and kept moving.
Austin wasn’t for him.
That didn’t mean Cal didn’t drink him in as though he were dying of thirst.
Austin had been attracting people to him since before they’d hit puberty, when he’d been a scrawny thing with too much charm and a disarming smile that lit up his face. As a thirty-three-year-old man, there was nothing scrawny about him. He was all height and breadth, golden skin and golden hair, aquamarine eyes, and a chin that models would pay for.
And he still had a smile that lit Cal’s soul on fire.
He aimed that smile Cal’s way now, glancing up from his conversation with his assistant as Cal walked into his tent. “What are your thoughts on aliens?” Austin asked.
Cal handed him one of the coffee mugs. “Any particular kind or just in general?”
Austin grinned at him, clearly delighted, and Cal’s heart missed a beat.
When he’d been a teenager, a smile from Austin had often sent Cal straight into fantasyland, where he’d spend the next ten minutes envisioning a future with his best friend.
Now, Cal knew better. Austin was bisexual, sure, but his tastes ran to people like Lindsay, his late wife: effervescent. Like fizzy champagne or popping soap bubbles.
Cal was just... Cal.
Marco, Austin’s assistant, snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes at them. Then he nodded at Cal’s remaining mug. “Guessing that’s not for me.”
Cal shrugged. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you’d be here.” He took a long sip of his coffee because it was fun to tease the kid.
Marco just shook his head, his mouth quirking upward. He was young, a decade younger than Cal and Austin, and only a year out of college. Austin had hired him as his assistant last summer, after his former assistant had gone into labor. Carine had decided to become a stay-at-home mom instead of returning to work for Austin, and Marco had been the perfect replacement. He was a transplant from the East Coast who’d arrived in Windsor a year ago for a seasonal summer position at Windsor Ranch—the same ranch Cal worked at. He’d started taking Austin’s photography workshops almost as soon as he’d arrived, and he was already a budding night sky photographer in his own right, thriving under Austin’s mentorship.
Cal looked at Austin and jerked his head to the side. “Want to grab breakfast?”
“Yes, please,” Austin said with a groan. “I’m starving. Took forever to set up today.” He stood, unfolding his six-foot-two frame from the little folding chair. He wore a white long-sleeved T-shirt that brought out the natural bronze of his skin and stylishly ripped jeans paired with a belt that, for some reason, made Cal gulp.
Maybe because he could imagine unbuckling it and threading it out of the belt loops before he sank to his knees and unzipped Austin’s jeans?
“Hold down the fort for twenty minutes?” Austin said to Marco, jarring Cal out of his inappropriate thoughts.
Marco nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll Photoshop the smudge out of this photo while you’re gone.”
Frowning, Austin pointed at him. “It’s an alien spaceship.”
“It’s a smudge.”
“An alien.”
“Want anything?” Cal asked Marco, interrupting before the two of them could get going.
“Nah. Las is meeting me for lunch later,” Marco said, referring to his boyfriend. “I can wait until then.”
On his way out of the tent with Austin, Cal took a look around for the first time since he’d arrived. Austin had some of his best work on display to attract customers. The framed pieces were pricier, ranging anywhere from eighty dollars to over a thousand depending on the size. Austin also had baskets with prints he sold for twenty bucks, and this year he was also selling his photography on coasters, mugs, bookmarks, and as 500-piece puzzles.
“How are sales today?” Cal asked.
“Not bad, considering the market’s only been open for a couple of hours. You know that photo of the Orion Nebula I took in England last winter? I blew it up to eighteen by twenty-four and framed it, and it sold this morning for almost two grand. The customer’s also shelling out for shipping charges.”
Cal bumped their shoulders. “You’re buying lunch then.”
Austin chuckled.
The market’s food aisle was a mix of smells: Mediterranean spices, deep fried onion rings, sautéed garlic, pizza sauce, and baking dough. Cal eyed a black bean dish that made his mouth water, but his stomach wasn’t quite ready for lunch yet. It wanted the breakfast burrito in the next stall over.
Once they had their meals, they sat at one of the tables in the small eating area under a massive tree that provided shade from the sun. Austin unwrapped his burrito and, casual as fuck, said, “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Cal stared at him. “What?”
Austin met his gaze. “Something’s bothering you.”
A family of four unfolded a blanket nearby, settling in for a picnic and drawing Cal’s attention, giving him an excuse to avoid Austin’s gaze. “I’m fine.”
Setting his burrito down, Austin sighed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so. But don’t lie to me.”
That drew Cal’s attention back to Austin. He didn’t look angry or disappointed, just... resolute.
Austin had always been a talk-about-your-feelings kind of guy, which—speaking of aliens—had often left Cal wondering what alien species he came from. It had gotten worse after Lindsay died, as though Austin thought that if he didn’t get his feelings off his chest, he’d never get the chance.
“I spoke with my mom this morning,” Cal said, even though he’d had no intention of talking about it.
Austin’s lips flattened. His eyes narrowed, creating lines at the corners.
It was Cal’s turn to sigh, knowing what was coming before Austin even opened his mouth. Cal grimaced. “Don’t say it.”
“Why do you keep taking her calls?”
Cal’s fingers clenched around his burrito. “It’s fine. She just needs a few groceries.”
“Which she can get herself. She has two working legs.”
“But no car.”
“There’s the ride share. Taxis. Hell, The General Store delivers. She wouldn’t even have to leave the house. Place an order before noon and it’s delivered before five.”
“Austin—”
“She doesn’t deserve you.”
The words fell between them, as subtle as a hammer falling from the sky. Cal sucked in a breath at the vehemence behind Austin’s statement, at the fierceness in Austin’s eyes. Austin had abandoned his food and sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze narrowed in challenge, as though daring Cal to argue.
And of course, Cal did. He passed a hand over his face, letting out a long breath that inexplicably made his chest go tight. He appreciated that Austin had his back more than he could ever explain, but at the end of the day...
“She’s my mom, Austin,” he said quietly.
“She birthed you,” Austin said just as quietly. “But she was never a mom.”
Cal stiffened, his chest squeezing tighter. Although Austin had never been shy about voicing his opinion of Cal’s mother, he’d never quite laid the truth bare like this either.
She birthed you. But she was never a mom .
Cal had known that, of course, in an abstract way he couldn’t put words to.
But Austin had uttered the truth like a gauntlet thrown between them.
It stung more than Cal would’ve thought possible. Not the words. They were just that—words.
It was what they meant that made it feel like spikes were embedded in his ribs.
Passing a hand through his hair and messing up the styled strands, Austin groaned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. I just wish you’d protect yourself.”
“I can handle my mom.”
Austin straightened, a gleam entering his eyes, signaling nothing good. “I’ll come with you.”
“Where?”
“To deliver her groceries.”
“Fuck no. I still have scars from the last time you two were in the same room together.”
Austin wasn’t listening. He rubbed his hands together, a mean tilt to his smile that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was, then picked up the rest of his burrito. “What time are we going over?”
Cal sighed and accepted the inevitable.
* * *
Barbara Anderson was poison. Austin would fight anyone who tried to tell him otherwise.
Including her son.
“Do you think she’ll be wearing her witch hat?”
“Stop,” Cal said, but he was laughing.
That was good, the laughter. Austin side-eyed him as he drove them to Cal’s mom’s house, her groceries bagged in the back seat. Cal gazed out the window, cowboy hat shading his eyes, his posture holding a hint of tension, no doubt owing to their destination.
Austin hadn’t meant to hurt Cal earlier, but Barbara Anderson truly wasn’t a mother. That wasn’t new information and Austin had figured he wasn’t telling Cal anything he didn’t already know.
But he’d seen the words hit like barbs. Seen Cal flinch, as though each barb had embedded itself individually into his skin.
Austin never wanted to hurt him—ever. He wanted to be Cal’s safe space. His place to land not only when things got tough, but when they were at their best too.
Barbara lived in the same house Cal had grown up in, only a couple of blocks away from where Austin had grown up. Austin had never spent much time there. Barbara had been as welcoming as a January cold front, so video game nights and homework dates and Saturday afternoons getting into trouble had always happened at Austin’s, where his mom would have cookies waiting and his dad would help them build snow forts in the winter.
In fact, every moment Cal wasn’t earning his goddamn keep—as if a kid needed to earn their position in the household, Jesus—he’d been at Austin’s.
Except for that year he’d lived with his dad in Idaho. They’d exchanged emails and phone calls over that year, and with each one, Cal had gotten more and more sullen. Quieter and quieter, until Austin had done most of the talking, telling jokes just to make his friend laugh.
When he’d moved back to Windsor and into the spare room at Austin’s for their senior year of high school, he’d been at his lowest.
And every time he visited his mom, he walked out with that same bleak look in his eyes that had followed him through childhood.
Austin hated it. Wished he could shield him from it.
Problem was, Cal didn’t want to be shielded, so there was nothing Austin could do except support him as best he could.
The grass in Barbara’s front yard was overgrown, which meant Cal would be back at some point in the next few days to mow it. The house was a single story with weathered greenish/taupe-ish siding and an attached garage. It had been built in the 1950s, and the interior had been renovated sometime when Cal was little. Austin parked in the driveway, waited for Cal to grab the groceries from the back, and followed him to the front door.
“Mom,” Cal called, stepping into the house. “I’ve got your things.”
She emerged from the back, where the home’s two bedrooms were, wearing a gauzy open-fronted cardigan-type thing over leggings and a T-shirt. “I told you to be here by noon.”
“You said two,” Cal returned calmly, though Austin didn’t miss the twitch of his left cheek.
“I said—oh.” Her gaze landed on Austin, and her jaw firmed. “Austin.”
Oh, the venom in her voice. Austin didn’t know why her dislike for him made him so damn happy.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shot her a sharp smile. “Barbara.”
“Still a hanger-on, I see.”
“Still taking advantage of your son, I see.”
Cal shot him a look. “Austin...”
“You can put the groceries in the kitchen,” Barbara told Cal.
Austin raised an eyebrow, knowing the expression made him appear judgy as shit and not caring. “Are your legs broken?”
“Austin...” Cal repeated on a weary sigh.
Barbara drew herself up to her full height of almost six feet—only a couple of inches shorter than Cal and Austin—and crossed her arms over her chest. Her facial features went tight, accentuating the lines at the corners of her mouth and aging her several years past the sixty she’d just turned.
For as long as Austin had known her, she’d worked as an esthetician at the salon in town. Now she managed the place, though Austin had always wondered how in the hell she got repeat customers with her sunny personality.
Maybe she was nice to everyone except him and Cal.
She opened her mouth to say something—probably to kick Austin out; wouldn’t be the first time—when Cal interrupted with a smooth but pointed, “Austin drove me and your groceries here. That was nice of him, wasn’t it?”
Barbara’s expression remained stony.
For Cal’s sake, Austin shut his trap. He was here as moral support, not to antagonize the woman.
His ulterior motive, though? Making sure Barbara didn’t keep Cal around for the rest of the day with requests to clean the bathroom or scrub the shelves in the fridge. Cal would do it too, if not happily, then out of a sense of duty so strong he’d never consider saying no.
Austin would happily say no on his behalf.
He stayed by the front door as Cal went into the kitchen to put the groceries away. Barbara followed her son, and a second later, her harsh whispers drifted out to Austin. He couldn’t hear what she said. Probably something along the lines of That boy is a bad influence on you , which was rich, coming from her. Austin had never figured out what her problem was. Did she resent being a mother? Had she grown up in a household where she’d had to fight tooth and nail for everything she had? Was she just resentful of life in general? Too lazy to do things herself?
Cal didn’t like talking about his home life, so Austin had never asked the questions that burned the back of his throat.
Barbara’s house had a homey vibe with its cozy couch, area rugs, and hanging plants. At least it should’ve been homey. Probably was to anyone else. But knowing who owned the house made the place seemed cold to Austin.
Also, he wanted to walk around with muddy boots and mar the perfect floor, but that was the petty, childish side of him talking.
Besides, Cal would be stuck cleaning it up.
Cal returned from the kitchen, shoulders set in a rigid line of tension. Barbara was right behind him, demanding he come by sometime next week to set out the patio furniture now that the weather was nicer.
Austin opened his mouth to remind Barbara that her legs still weren’t broken, but one look at Cal’s expression and Austin bit the words back.
Weary was the only adjective Austin could think of to describe his best friend. Not physical fatigue—Cal could go all day. But a bone-deep weariness that came with trying and trying and trying and getting nothing in return for your effort.
“Ready to go?” Austin asked, not waiting for an answer before he tugged the door open.
“Yeah. Mom, I’ll be by next week to mow the lawn.”
“Before Monday morning,” she snapped, bare feet soundless against the hardwood. “I’m hosting the ladies for brunch at eleven and I want the yard to look nice.”
There are services you can call , Austin almost said, but he didn’t want to prolong this visit. It was time to get Cal the hell out of here.
“Fine,” Cal acknowledged. “Before Monday.”
Austin opened the door wider to let Cal through and gave Barbara a mock salute. “A pleasure as always, Barbara.” As he stepped outside, closing the door behind him, he muttered, “Don’t let the flying monkeys get you,” under his breath.
Cal shot him another look, though there was a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Hey.” Austin pulled him to a stop next to his SUV. The laughter was still in Cal’s gray eyes, but behind it lurked old wounds. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt you or?—”
Cal cut him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine, Aus. I just wish...” He trailed off, his gaze straying somewhere to Austin’s right. His brows pinched together and he let out a long breath. “Well, I wish a lot of things.”
“Not that your mom and I will get along, right? Because I have to say?—”
“That it’s a pipe dream?” Cal said with a little laugh. “I’m well aware.” He sobered fast. “I’m sorry she’s still so awful to you.”
“Meh. I can handle your mother.” And would handle her every day on Cal’s behalf if only Cal would let him. “Now let’s get back to the market so I can send Marco home for the day.”