26. Warren
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
WARREN
T he saying time flies when you’re having fun has never felt more true than it does in this moment. I’ve been avoiding the calendar app on my phone because I’m afraid to count the days left, knowing it would be on one hand.
The journey to the coast isn’t a long one. We could have been there long ago, but this whole trip has been about having fun with my best friend, forgetting about chicks, and seeing a piece of the world.
No schedules, no deadlines, and no stress.
We’ve accomplished all of that and more, becoming even closer than we were. Maybe we took the pact a little too far when we started messing around, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I just hope that it isn’t all ruined when we finally go home and face reality.
Shaking the negative thoughts away, I focus on the present instead. We just saw the fucking Grand Canyon, and now we’re doing something else fun today. Something good . And I think Kyle’s going to appreciate that.
“ Oh my God! No way! ” he shouts as we turn into the dusty drive with a giant wooden sign reading Man’s Best Friend Animal Sanctuary . “Puppies?”
I glance over and nod, his baby blues shimmering with an innocent sort of happiness that’s infectious. “ And more. ”
Kyle’s eyes widen, blond brows darting toward his forehead as his jaw slowly drops. “ Kitties? ”
I nod again. “Yup. Bunnies too. Birds. And even some wild animals before they’re released back into the wild. These animals get to live in a beautiful canyon while receiving top care or awaiting new homes.”
Kyle is buzzing with excitement like a little kid at the zoo.
I love seeing him like this.
We park in a shaded area in the back, making our way to the welcome center so we can sign in for the volunteer session I secretly booked online the other day.
“Good morning! Welcome to Man’s Best Friend Animal Sanctuary. How can I help you on this lovely, sunny day?”
“Hello,” I say to the cheerful lady behind the desk, offering her a big smile. “I have a booking under Moretti.”
“Great!” she chirps, clicking away on her keyboard. “Let’s see here . . . Ah! There we go, I see your shift scheduled.”
Kyle side-eyes me at the word shift .
“Just checking you in now. Can I please see your IDs?”
We both take out our wallets and hand her our real driver’s licenses, not the fake ones we use to go drinking.
She scans them into the computer before handing them back. “All righty, Warren and Kyle, you’re all set. Here are your nametags and schedule. You’ve got an hour of puppy cuddling, then rabbit snacks, a dog hike, and finally cleaning litter boxes.”
Not looking forward to the last task, but I understand we’re here to do some work and not just offer our love and affection. Although that’s important for these animals too.
“Hannah will show you to the puppy room.”
A girl around our age, who’s probably volunteering for the summer for college credit if I had to guess, walks out in khaki shorts with an oversized company T-shirt tucked in. “Hey guys! Follow me.” Her smile is warm and friendly, just like everyone else we’ve seen so far.
Hannah shows us to the puppy room where volunteers can spend time cuddling and playing with the puppies. Besides the two of us, there are a couple of families with little kids already waiting.
“Potty station is over there,” Hannah says, pointing to a trash can and baggies set up in the corner. “Just in case any of the pups decide to poop. Make sure you spray and wipe the concrete, don’t just pick it up. Thank you, and have fun!” Hannah leaves, and then a garage-type door is opened and over a dozen puppies dash out—all different sizes and breeds.
“ Oh my God, ” Kyle chuckles, squatting down and preparing to be tackled by a couple of pretty big German shepherd puppies.
All of the tiny dogs head for the two families, and the big boys charge us as if they know to be careful with children.
Kyle lets the dogs take him to the ground, falling to his back as they attack him with kisses.
My stomach flips, hollowing out as I watch him play-wrestle with the oversized puppies and having the time of his life doing so.
I’m glad I brought my camera, having added the long strap to the case that allows me to easily wear it as a crossbody. I quickly snap a photo of Kyle laughing while the puppies lick his face, putting it away and joining in on the fun.
The bunny experience is no different, and the warm fuzzies I’m starting to feel toward my best friend intensify tenfold. Watching him be so gentle and tender with the little fluffballs melts my fucking heart. We feed them carrots and celery sticks before returning to the puppy daycare to take one of the German shepherd puppies for a quick canyon hike.
We’re exhausted, dirty, and most likely smell by the end of it all, but we still find time to help clean up just like we agreed.
As we’re emptying the litter boxes, a tiny gray kitten with white feet prances over, rubbing against Kyle’s leg and circling his foot.
Meeeoow.
“Well, hello there. And who are you?” Kyle squats down, continuing to baby-talk the kitten, giving it so much attention that I’d be jealous if the little guy wasn’t so fucking cute. My heart absolutely melts when Kyle scoops the kitten up, holding it in front of his face and letting it lick his nose. He chuckles. “Rough like sandpaper.”
“You’re awfully good with him. You hostin’ a sleepover tonight?” an older woman in worn jeans, cowboy boots, and a dirty white T-shirt asks as she comes over to check our work.
“Pardon?” Kyle says politely yet slightly distracted, playing with the friendly kitten in his arms.
“Did you book a kitty sleepover? Socks there”—she nods to Kyle—“is available for an overnight visit.”
Kyle looks at me with wide, hopeful eyes and a tiny cat clutched to his chest as if he’s a child begging their parent for a new pet.
How can I possibly say no?
Hot, shirtless guys with adorable kittens are apparently my weakness, and I think Kyle and Socks deserve their own calendar.
Grabbing my camera, I snap a photo before one of them wakes up. “ Ridiculous, ” I mutter, shaking my head at the over-the-top cuteness as I clip our newest photo to the string lights before it even develops.
My eyes scan the timeline, and I can’t help but smile at how nicely it’s coming along and all the memories we’ve made so far.
I’ve had the time of my life on this trip, and I think Kyle has, too, but the closer we get to the end, the more I worry this whole thing between us will shatter into a million pieces like some sort of fragile facade.
He’s not gay.
He wants a trophy wife and the perfect family.
And I’m definitely not gay. I love pussy too much. I just know how to appreciate a good body and a sweet soul. And there’s no one better in either of those categories than Kyle Fitzpatrick.
We can’t seem to keep our hands off each other, and if I’m being completely honest with myself, I’ve been craving more.
The mere thought of being fucked turns me on so much, my dick chubs up.
Fuck.
Does that mean I’m bisexual?
Needing some fresh air and time to think, I grab a blanket and sneak out while Kyle and his little buddy are sleeping. I climb to the roof of the RV, lay down the blanket, and pull out the small notebook I’ve been using to keep track of important details about our excursions just in case I decide to write that blog Kyle thinks I should.
Not to mention, I’ve been pouring my heart into these pages like it’s some sort of diary, revealing my developing feelings and deepening bond to my best friend.
At this point, it’s not even about the places we’ve seen, it’s about the connection we’ve strengthened. No one else on this Earth can compare to Ky.
A loud, friendly voice jolts me from my internal musings. “Hey there! You boys wanna join two old farts for dinner?”
We have new neighbors that parked one spot down from our RV while we were at the animal sanctuary. I’m a little annoyed because we like our privacy, but I can’t be mad when he sounds so nice.
“Dan, stop it,” the old lady scolds her husband who seems pretty amused with himself. “Come on over and have a nice meal, darling. I’m Greta, and this is my husband, Daniel.”
All of the hollering must wake Kyle because he steps out of the RV looking sleepy-faced as he turns around and stares up at me. “What’s going on, Ren?” His brows furrow.
“Dan and Greta have invited us over for dinner.”
Kyle tilts his head, shaking the sleeping kitten cuddled to his chest. “Who?”
“Our neighbors.” I nod toward the RV next to us, and Kyle’s eyes follow.
“ Oh. Cool. Sure, I guess. I am pretty hungry.” Socks finally wakes up from all the moving and talking, giving us a big kitty yawn.
We’ve needed groceries for a couple of days, but no one’s put forth the effort.
“As long as it’s okay if we bring a friend!” I shout back to our neighbors, and Kyle holds the kitten up Lion King style.
“ Oh my word. You three cuties get on over here and let me feed you! I won’t take no for an answer!”
“Be right there, ma’am!” I holler with a warm smile as Kyle thrusts the kitten into my arms.
“ Here. Hold him while I pee and put a shirt on.”
Kyle comes back out three minutes later in his favorite faded blue T-shirt with all the holes in it.
“Seriously, dude? You couldn’t have put on something nicer? Something that fits?”
Kyle just shrugs, and I shake my head, handing him the kitten.
We make our way over to the neighbors, greeting them with warm hellos and polite smiles.
“I’m about to put the steaks on. Tell me how you like ’em, boys,” Dan says with a kind smile as he lifts the lid of his grill.
The smoky scent of charcoal infiltrates my nostrils, making my mouth water at the thought of a big, juicy steak.
“Medium-well for both of us. Thanks, Dan,” I answer without thinking twice about speaking for Kyle.
“You got it. Beers are on ice.” He points with his tongs to a big white cooler.
I grab two as Kyle sits down in the folding chair next to Greta, handing her the kitten.
“Oh, he’s just darling,” she coos. “What’s his name?”
“Socks.”
“Well, isn’t that adorable.” She picks up one of his little feet, petting the coloration. “And appropriate. How long have you had him?”
“This is our first day, but we’re just babysitting for the night,” Kyle says politely. “The animal sanctuary down the road is a really cool place to visit if you haven’t already.”
“ Oh! We haven’t. Did you hear that, Daniel? We should plan a visit to see the animals.”
“Sounds good, honey!” Dan shouts from the grill.
I sit next to Kyle, opening his beer and handing it over.
We all chat while the steaks cook, and I tell them how we just finished our freshman year of college and decided to travel for a couple weeks.
We find out they’re recently retired, sold their house, bought an RV, and just kicked off their travels with a trip to Vegas that ended three days ago.
“Sounds like a pretty awesome way to retire, if you ask me.” I can only hope to be this happy and healthy when I’m their age.
“Steaks should be done, if you wanna grab the sides, honey.”
“Need any help?” Kyle asks sweetly, taking Socks from her.
“Oh, sure that would be great.”
Kyle passes the kitten to me, disappearing into the RV and coming back with an armful of plates, cups, and silverware. Greta’s holding a big bowl of something and a pitcher of what looks like iced tea.
“Greta made potato salad,” Kyle says with a wide smile, his eyes shimmering with amusement. “I told her how you’re obsessed with my mom’s, and now it’s become some sort of competition.”
“It sure has, darling! I expect your honest opinion, Mr. Warren.”
I chuckle, feeling a little put on the spot, but completely up for it.
“You got it.” I give her a salute, letting her know I will take this potato salad challenge very seriously.
The plots at this campground have picnic tables in the corners, so we make our way over. Kyle sets the table, while Dan serves up everyone’s steaks, and Greta pours the sweet tea.
Even though we just met, it feels comfortable here, and my stomach grumbles at the rich, buttery scent of the perfectly grilled steak before me. Greta plops a huge spoonful of potato salad onto my plate, and I sprinkle salt and pepper over everything, ready to dive in.
Holy shit, this food is amazing.
After too many sandwiches, almost anything would taste good, but Dan’s steak is cooked to perfection, and Greta’s creamy, tangy potato salad rivals Mama Carol’s.
Although I wouldn’t tell her that.
I fully intend to butter up both women about their potato salad.
“Mmm. Greta. The extra splash of pickle juice you added really gives it an extra kick. I’m diggin’ it.”
Kyle nods his agreement, shoveling another bite into his mouth, making our hosts chuckle.
“You sure know how to make an old lady smile,” Greta says kindly, the skin around her eyes and mouth wrinkling as she grins warmly at me.
“He can always make me smile, too, so I know exactly how you feel, Greta,” Kyle murmurs unexpectedly.
My eyes dart to the side, staring at him.
He turns his head to stare back, and for a moment we seem to forget where we are until Kyle blinks and clears his throat, focusing back on his dinner.
When I look back up, Greta is watching us with a peculiar expression on her face while her husband is obliviously sawing into his steak and chewing away. She gives me a knowing wink and takes a swig of her sweet tea as if she didn’t just observe a private moment between Kyle and me.
We finish up quickly because it’s just so good, inhaling a delicious homemade banana pudding for dessert. Greta insists we go home and relax with the kitten when we offer to help clean up.
So, we give her and Dan our thanks once again, and head home to cuddle with our kitten for the night.
It’s going to be hard for Kyle to part with him in the morning.