by Elle Keaton
“I’m really worried that he missed school today.” Rod didn’t know how to get her to understand that Jasper seemed to come to school because of the bus and the stories they were all working on. Missing an installment was not something the third-grader would do lightly.
“I’ll pass it along, I promise.”
With that assurance and no other recourse, Rod stepped back out into the misty morning. Once he dropped the bus back at the lot, he drove the route again, winding up and down the streets in the vicinity of Jasper’s stop but seeing nothing more than he had before. An economically depressed neighborhood, ill-kept yards, cars that had sat in one spot so long there was moss growing on the roofs. Residents working hard to keep their heads above water. But no sign of a grubby nine-year-old boy with a wild imagination who preferred wearing his coat as a superhero cloak.
Finally it was Friday, and his date with Theo loomed. They’d texted once since their coffee date, Theo making sure that Rod was still coming. They were meeting up at the Loft, a place Rod was regretting suggesting, but he didn’t feel like he could tell Theo that. The last thing Rod needed was Cam giving him a hard time about being on a date. Ah well.
The bar was busy, but the side with tables had space for the two of them. Rod didn’t recognize the new guy checking ID at the door, but he did recognize Cam’s familiar form behind the bar. His friend had his long hair tucked up in a messy bun. Rod did not know a single other man who could pull that off, but on Cameron it was sexy. Thankfully Cam was too busy making drinks and entertaining to see Rod come in with his date.
During the entire meal, Rod kept trying to force the spark, the physical attraction toward Theo. Clearly Theo was into Rod; he kept leaning forward while they were talking, putting his hand on Rod’s forearm and quickly removing it. Their knees bumped, and Rod was pretty sure it wasn’t by accident. He supposed it was the wrong attitude to be gearing up for the inevitable kiss.
Theo wanted to dance, and it was impossible for Rod to say no. The dance floor was packed with most of the gay population of Skagit dancing and grinding the night away. A song came on that Rod recognized but couldn’t name, and Theo grabbed his hand and pulled him into the throng. He was a good dancer, much better than Rod. He definitely got the attention of other dancers. He was one of those guys who seemed to innately know the beat and be able to respond in exact time with the song. Rod did his thing where he kind of stood in one place and moved his hips around a bit.
“Did I mention I am a terrible dancer?” he shouted over the music.
Theo grinned. “No worries, I’ll make up for it. You just stay right there and look sexy as hell.”
Soon enough another, better dancer swept Theo away, taking him deeper onto the dance floor. Rod let him go without a single spark of jealousy. He made his way off the dance floor and wandered over to the bar where Cameron was still pouring drinks, a second bartender backing him up now.
“Hey, Rod, I didn’t see you come in!” Cam grinned at him. Rod sure hoped Ira knew how lucky he was.
“I’m with a date.”
Cam stopped shaking the drink in progress to stare at Rod. “A date? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
He started shaking the drink again. “Where is he, then?”
Rod looked back out across the dance floor. It took him a minute before dancers moved and he was able to spot Theo dancing between two other men. Rod didn’t know either of them, but as he watched, the one dancing behind slid his hand up Theo’s shirt, and Rod saw Theo freeze.
“There, with red shirt guy and tall frowny guy.” Red shirt guy now had his fingers wrapped around Theo’s hip and was grinding against him. Theo had started dancing again, but he didn’t look nearly as carefree as he had before.
Red shirt put his arms around Theo, forcing the smaller man back against him. Rod saw Theo try to squirm away, but Red kept a firm grip on him.
Cameron followed Rod’s gaze. “Shit, it’s that asshole. Sterling eighty-sixed him; how’d he get back in? Go get your friend.” Cam signaled to the bouncer, pointing at the dance floor just as Theo jabbed his elbow into Red’s abdomen and stomped on his foot at the same time.
When Rod reached Theo’s side, he didn’t bother to ask—neither had red shirt guy, but based on Theo’s attentiveness during dinner, Rod felt confident his touch was more welcome— he just took Theo’s forearm and pulled him away from the other two men.
“What the fuck is going on here? When a guy says no, you need to listen.” Rod had to raise his voice to be heard above the pounding music.
The bouncer joined them, and the other men dancing moved away.
“We were just dancing.” Red shirt had a tone that Rod didn’t like.
“It didn’t look like dancing, and it didn’t look like my date was having fun.”
Frowny guy stepped between them. “Baby, we’ll find another.”
Rod didn’t care what kind of games those two were involved in. He turned his back on them, letting the bouncer sort the rest out and guiding Theo back toward the bar.
“You okay? Sorry I left, nobody wants to dance with a clumsy lunk, and I thought you were having fun.”
Theo smiled up at him, but some of the spark had disappeared from his expression. “Yeah, I love to dance. I was having fun until that asshole started mauling me. You’re not a bad dancer.” He poked Rod in the biceps. “You just need more practice.”
Rod snorted. “Tell that to everybody I ever knocked down with my fancy moves. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
As intended, Theo laughed, but he still declined. “I think I’m ready to go home. Sorry. I do love to dance—it’s that asshole who ruined my night, not you.”
Rod walked Theo to his car a couple of blocks away and waited as Theo disarmed the alarm. Theo turned to face him and stepped closer so that Rod was looking down into his nearly black eyes. Lifting up on his toes, Theo pressed his lips against Rod’s. The kiss was over before Rod could react. Theo slid behind the wheel of his car with a soft “See you soon,” before starting the engine and heading down the street.
Because his brain was apparently broken, or like a scratched vinyl record stuck in the same spot, the erotic dream Rod had that night did not star TheoG1988. It was Travis’s blond head he was looking at while lips traced up and down his erection, Travis’s blue eyes that looked at him full of mischief and daring while he sucked Rod further down. Rod felt himself hit the back of Travis’s throat, and it was the most incredible sensation. He thrust harder, wanting more. Wanting not to be inside Travis but Travis to be inside him.
Rod was on his stomach then, lifting his hips up so Travis could take him. Take him like he wanted so badly. He felt when Travis propped his knees under Rod’s ass and began to trace his exposed hole with his finger. Rod’s hand was around his cock, precome dripping onto the sheet beneath him, but all he cared about was not coming too soon. At least not before Travis put his fingers inside him.
So much teasing. “Please, please, please,” Rod chanted.
“Please what? You want me to fuck you or make love to you?” Travis rasped, his voice smoky with lust and need.
“Fuck me, love me, both. All.” Rod sobbed as fingers pushed their way inside, his ass reflexively clenching before he relaxed and pushed back against the intruders. Welcomed them.
“You want my cock yet? Can you take it? I want you to feel me all day, to never forget me.”
Rod had seen Travis naked plenty of times, but only once with an erection that he remembered. His dream brain managed to fill in the blanks just fine, though.
“I want everything, anything you can give me.” He was moaning and making a complete fool of himself, and then Travis’s fingers were rubbing back and forth across his prostate and nothing else mattered. Not even the fact that this was a dream and Rod knew it.
When he woke in the morning, there was a missed call from Travis. Without thinking about it, he hit return call.
Trav picked up right away.
“You’re hard to get ahold of, dude, what have you been up to?”
Before his sleepy brain could filter his answer, words popped out. “I was out last night. We went to dinner, stayed out a little late.”
Travis was silent for a beat. Rod wondered what he was thinking, if he was relieved that Rod appeared to have met someone.
“Oh yeah? What’s his name? How did you meet him?”
“Theo, his name is Theo. We met through a dating app.”
Travis’s voice was stern. “A dating app? You’re better than that. He could be any kind of creep.”
“He’s not a creep, Travis. He’s a nice guy, a photographer, and he’s new to Skagit like me. We hit it off.”
Rod didn’t really intend to mislead Travis about the possibility of a relationship between him and Theo, but it was important for Travis to know Rod was making a new life for himself in Skagit.
“If things work out, I’ll have a plus one for your big day. Do you guys have a date and all that? A best man needs to know these things.” God, it was hard. Rod didn’t want think about having to watch Travis get married, hearing him say to another person the words Rod wanted to hear for himself.
Silence. Rod wondered if the connection had been lost.
“Trav? You there?”
There was a muffled curse and thump. Travis must have dropped the phone. Finally he answered.
“Hang on, sorry. Yeah, about that... Lisa… uh, yeah, anyway. So, uh… shit.” There were more thumps and a scuffling sound. What was he doing? “Sorry. Hey, did you catch the game the other night?”
They talked for a little while longer, Travis giving Rod crap about his losing college basketball team, but the conversation felt forced. They hung up with a mutual “Great to talk to you, see you soon” kind of thing. Rod dropped his phone beside him on the bed and shut his eyes. As he lay there, he wondered if it had been his imagination that Travis’s enthusiasm for his upcoming wedding had seemed flat or if it was just the inevitable changing of their friendship.
He and Travis would no longer call each other when their stupid sports teams lost or won. They wouldn’t know the minutiae of each other’s lives—if they’d been sick, had a bad day, or stayed up too late binge-watching a new show—because they were no longer around each other to witness them. It was already happening.
A heaviness Rod vaguely recognized as grief pressed him further down into the mattress. He could lie there, and the oppressive weight of it would force all the tears he’d never shed, all the love he’d never been able to give, from his body, leaving him only a husk.
He stayed in bed all day, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. When the sun set, he didn’t bother turning the lights on.
8
Travis viciously slapped white paint onto the wall of the storage room. Excess paint dripped downward; splatters that looked like constellations bloomed where the roller had hit the wall. His dad had been complaining that it was too dingy to see their inventory. This bright white should take care of that.
After talking to Rod that morning, he finished dressing, grabbed his keys from the bowl on the kitchen counter, and left the house, ignoring his mother’s demand that he stop and talk to her. No one ignored Lenore. The expression on her face would have been priceless if Travis were in any mood to laugh. Why hadn’t he just told Rod he and Lisa were off? That there were no marriage plans?
The fucking wedding. Travis slapped more paint on the wall. The wedding both he and Lisa knew wasn’t happening. The only people left to tell who mattered were his parents and Rod. Rod, Rod, Rod. Surely Lisa’s dad already knew. She wouldn’t go on a long trip with him and not say anything. Right?
And Rod. Although, Travis smacked another roller full of paint onto the wall, from what Rod had said on the phone, it could be too late. While Travis was fucking around trying to figure out up from down, Rod had met someone else. Someone named Theo who was “a nice guy.” But it wasn’t too late to be honest with himself, his family, and Rod.
How stupid to create a separation. Rod was family. Travis’s family.
“There’s more paint on the floor than the wall, son.”
Travis whipped around, the roller still in his hand, barely managing to jerk backward before smacking his dad in the chest.
“A little on edge, are you? Your mother is furious, claimed you stomped out of the house.”
Travis carefully placed the paint roller in the aluminum pan before answering. “I did.” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, ready for an argument with Michael.
“You want to go for a drive?” Michael looked at the paint and the mess Travis had made. “This can be cleaned up later—and it already looks brighter in here. The extra paint on the floor is a nice added touch.”
Travis narrowed his eyes. His dad was… making a joke? Was it possible? Michael wasn’t known for his sense of humor. He wasn’t mean, he just didn’t interact with Travis or Abigail that way. Throughout Travis’s childhood, Michael had been a strong and silent, sort of shadowy, figure. Up early and out late working the property or meeting with other farmers or planning out the next year or two, he’d left the parenting to Lenore. He’d been at Travis’s sporting events when he could manage, and once Travis (and Rod) were old enough to be more of a help than a hindrance they spent time with his dad learning the ropes of the business, but they never casually joked around.
“Sure, yeah, I can go for a drive. Where’re we going?”
They were both quiet at first as Michael directed his truck toward Stateline. He’d muttered something about special parts while Travis cleaned up the paint mess as best he could. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it felt full. There was something waiting to be said, and it was about time.
Michael spoke first.
“I’m worried about you, Travis. You seem down, different. Not what I’d expect from someone who has a wedding coming up.”
Trust the silent one to cut to the heart of the issue. Travis looked out the window, watching as trees and houses he’d seen all his life flashed past. Travis didn’t see them. He could have said where they were, though; he didn’t need to look out the window to know that.
The truth came spilling out. In the cab of the truck with the road winding out in front and behind them, it suddenly seemed easy to say what had been wearing him down for weeks. Months.
“Lisa and I aren’t getting married. I broke it off before she left.”
His dad made a noise that in Michael Walker–speak meant “Keep talking.”
The moment was like what Travis imagined in near-death experiences when people claimed their life flashed before their eyes. The road behind him was the way his life had been: planned out by his parents, his community, and even himself before he knew who he was, sprawled a tangled spool of thread. College, wheat, marriage, kids. Ahead, Travis’s future was largely unknown, another spool, hidden from sight the way a wispy bank of morning fog blanketed the road ahead of the truck. The truth was on the other side of that fog, just a sketch, indeterminate but beckoning. If Travis didn’t head toward the truth, he would find himself in the same lonely place as John Briggs, as any of the other unhappy people who stayed in place instead of following their dream.
Travis stared fixedly out the windshield as he spoke. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard to get the words out. Surely his dad wouldn’t stop the truck and make him walk home. “The thing is,” he breathed out quickly, “I’m bi, and Rod is the one I want to be with. He’s the one I want, not Lisa. If he ever speaks to me again. I messed up, Dad, and I think I really hurt him.”
Of course he’d also hurt Lisa, and he was about to hurt his mom; probably his dad too. He was leaving a trail of hurt in his wake. How had it come to this? He didn’t like hurting people.
He was afraid to look over at his dad. The road flashed by solid and real, trees and houses all the same, the sun shining somewhere. The truck hadn’t slowed, maint
aining a steady speed as they headed toward wherever it was they were going.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good parent to you and Abigail.” His dad’s voice was full of sadness.
Travis about snapped his head off, jerking around to stare at his dad. “What are you talking about? You’ve been a great parent.”
“Travis.” It was his dad this time staring fixedly out the windshield. “You’re twenty-eight years old, and only now are you telling me this.” His dad let out a big sigh, then took a hand from the steering wheel to quickly grip Travis’s thigh. “I know I’m of a different generation and a small-town man, but we’ve lost too many of our kids because of judging who makes them happiest. I don’t like seeing you like this, Travis. I want you to be happy.”
Travis thought he’d done a pretty good job hiding his emotions, but apparently even his dad, who he’d thought was allergic to emotion, had noticed his misery.
“Also, Dad, I think… I don’t want to stay here, in town.” He had to force the words out, but he’d said it. Admitting he didn’t want to be a part of the family business was almost harder than confessing his sexuality. He wanted to vomit.
Jesus fucking Christ, being a grownup was hard.
“I know, son, I’ve seen that too. You’re good at farming, but your heart isn’t. You’re one of those people who… well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but it does make things complicated.” His dad let out another deep sigh. “Your mother won’t take this well.”
“I’m sorry.” Travis didn’t know what else to say.
“You know, the parcel out behind the Bakers’ property is yours. Your grandmother left it to you.”
The parcel of land his dad was talking about was nineteen acres and hilly. Extra hilly. All the land around Walla Walla was rolling hills, but that particular piece seemed to have a lot of them. A stream ran along one edge, and Travis held the water rights, which was unusual these days.
“What are you saying? That I should sell it?”
