by Amy Aislin
“Lassiter.” Dr. Kaferi, his advisor, was taking notes on a little notepad while sitting astride her borrowed horse. She looked perfectly comfortable and at ease. “Can you show me where you spotted the black-footed ferrets?”
He shook himself out of despair that weighed his shoulders down, registered Cal’s wordless keep it together expression, and led his party east into the hills. Behind him, the president and SDO were chatting about possible marketing opportunities that partnering with Windsor Ranch would provide. Las tuned it out—marketing was his dad’s realm.
Dr. Kaferi rode up next to him, large sunglasses shading her eyes despite the lack of sunshine. Harriet shied away.
“Easy.” Las patted her neck. “Sorry,” he said to Dr. Kaferi. “She hates pretty much everyone but me.” And Marco. Harriet was as in love with Marco as Las was.
The thought stalled his brain for a second, made his fingers spasm on the reins. He’d known for a while that he was in love with Marco. The butterfly-inducing, grinning-at-nothing, feel-like-you’re-flying kind of love that made the world both spin on its axis and settle into place, all at the same time.
They could do this. Whether Marco signed with a team or ended up in freakin’ Arkansas working as a receptionist at a health clinic. Wherever life took him, Las was all in. Windsor might be home, but already it wasn’t the same without Marco and he’d only been gone a couple of hours. Long-distance relationships sucked, but they’d make it work while Las was in grad school. After that? Well, they’d reassess.
“That’s quite all right,” Dr. Kaferi said. “My sister had a horse once that had been abused. He was quite skittish as well.”
“Harriet was never abused.” Las patted her neck again. “She’s just picky about her friends.”
Dr. Kaferi’s laughter creased the sides of her mouth. “I know some humans that are the same.”
Yeah, so did Las.
“Anyway, I wanted to speak with you about your options,” Dr. Kaferi continued. “If this project doesn’t work out,” she said, making Las’s gut clench, “I have a couple others I’m working on that I’d love for you to be a part of for your thesis.”
“Really?” At least something was going right.
“I’ll send you the details when I get back to my room later, but briefly: one looks at groundwater management strategies, the other is evaluating factors in the acceptance of conservation easements in Wyoming, Colorado, and Montana. You can choose which one you have the most interest in once you’ve taken a look at the project briefs.”
By the time they were done, it was lunchtime and Las’s stomach was making noises. He felt lighter though, with the future looking sunnier and stabler than it had just six hours ago.
The discussion was scheduled to continue around Las’s kitchen table, moving from a description of what Windsor Ranch did to a sales pitch about what USNC could offer them via this partnership. As everyone filed inside, Las lingered next to Harriet near the corral and thumbed his phone.
No messages from Marco. Not even an About to board. See you tomorrow.
Nothing.
Las’s thumb hovered over the keys. What could he say that wouldn’t sound desperately needy? He settled on a quick Good luck! And then, because he couldn’t help himself, added I miss you with a little heart eyes emoji.
The emoji was possibly too much. At least it’d give Marco a clue as to where his heart was at?
Oh, who was he kidding? Men were oblivious to that sort of thing.
Hours later, chores complete, showered and changed back into Marco’s hoodie, Las sat at the desk in his room, brought up his contacts on his cell, and didn’t hesitate as he pressed the green button below Ben’s name.
Oh crap, wait—
A click, then a startled, “Las?”
He loosed a relieved breath. “You know, it only just occurred to me that you might have a new phone number.”
“Nah. I never changed it.” Ben paused for a moment. “Maybe I was hoping you’d call.”
That hurt more than Las had expected. Elbows on the desktop, he ran his free hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Ben’s sigh crackled through the line. “Yeah. I’m sorry too. For lots of things.”
“I know. D’you know I almost texted you the other day?”
“About what?”
“Nothing in particular. I was just thinking about that gopher we rescued when we were kids.”
“What made you think of that?”
Las chuckled softly. “I can’t even remember right now.” He ran his nail along a scratch in the desktop. “How are you, Ben?”
“Good.”
He sounded good too, if a bit tired. And crap again. What time was it there?
“I’m starting a new job next week.”
“Yeah? Doing what?”
“Communications assistant at a non-profit, filling in for a maternity leave,” Ben said. “Keeping the website updated, writing for the blog, submitting media releases, that sort of thing.”
It reminded Las of Marco and a pang went through his chest. Would there finally be a message from him when Las hung up with Ben?
“And you, Las? Is everything okay?”
“Should it not be?”
“You tell me. I imagine you didn’t call just to shoot the shit.”
“Except I did,” Las said, moving to his bed and sitting widthwise with his back against the wall.
“Oh.” It was a pleased little oh that made Las grin. There was the sound of a door closing and then a high-pitched screech, maybe a chair being pulled away from a table. “Tell me what’s going on then.”
They talked for half an hour, catching up on the last two years of absence, easy and comfortable as if they’d just seen each other yesterday. While Ben was bemoaning the educational system over there compared to America’s, a beep sounded in Las’s ear and he pulled the phone away to check his notifications.
Not Marco. Just a stupid newsletter that didn’t get filtered into his spam folder. Sighing, he brought the phone back to his ear.
It wasn’t until Ben started to yawn that Las said, “Seeing anyone?”
“Ah… Sort of? Maybe. I don’t know, it’s new. You?”
Las’s smile was automatic and huge. “Yeah.”
Silence. Then, “That’s it? Just yeah? Spill.”
Las picked at the threads of the rip in the knee of his jeans. “How much do you want to hear?”
“All of it,” Ben said without hesitation. “Except maybe tomorrow?” A huge yawn cut through his words. “I’m about to fall asleep on you.”
“Tomorrow’s good. Same time, same place?”
Ben chuckled, and for reasons Las couldn’t name, it reminded him of high school lunch, sitting in the cafeteria together with their friends and shooting the shit.
“Perfect,” Ben muttered. “Bye, Las.”
“Bye, Ben.”
God. Las thunked his head back against the wall. Why had he waited so long to get back in touch with Ben? A cloud of angst and hurt that had hovered gloomily over his head since Ben left for England was finally gone. He hadn’t known how much he needed to talk to his best friend until he’d actually done it.
And that was what he’d done—talked to his best friend. Not his ex. Not the guy who’d hurt him. Not the guy who’d left him.
His best friend, the one who’d held his hand while he’d gotten a rabies shot.
They’d have to clear the air eventually; for now, it was nice to have his best friend back in his life.
Standing, Las went downstairs, packed a few simple dinner fixings into a cooler, then found his parents eating dinner in front of the television.
“Before you ask,” his mom said, holding up a hand, “we haven’t made any decisions yet.”
“I figured.” Las sat on the arm of the couch, socked feet on the cushion. “But I wanted to see what you thought. How do you think it went?”
His parents exchanged a look that
said more than words. A look that Las hoped to master with Marco one day.
Moving food around on her plate, his mom said, “Let’s just say we’re seriously considering it. But—” she tacked on when Las straightened in excitement. “We’re not going to make any decisions until we review the papers they brought today.”
“Right. Okay.” But they were seriously considering it.
His dad waved his fork at him. “Your mom said you did good today.”
She had?
“Dr. Kaferi was impressed with your knowledge and dedication,” his mom said.
She was?
Alice poked her head into the room. “Goodnight.”
“Have a good time,” his mom said while his dad waved, his mouth full of meatloaf.
Gripping the edge of the doorframe, Las leaned back to peer into the hallway. “Who are you going out with this time?”
Alice simply stuck her tongue out at him and flounced out the door.
“You heading out too?” his dad asked.
“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He drove the Gater across the highway and aimed it in the direction of his tent. Another night without Marco but they’d made a lot of memories there in two short months. It was where Las felt closest to him.
The cloudy day added a hint of blue shadows to the forest. His running shoes crunched leaves and twigs as he left the Gater behind and headed for his little spot next to the river. Squirrels ran to and fro, and somewhere off to his right, a bird screeched.
He pulled his phone out, letting his feet guide him instinctively home. Still nothing from Marco. Had his meeting gone badly then? Or maybe he was still in his meeting? His phone was dead. He’d lost it. It had been stolen. He’d forgotten it in his cabin.
The reasons for the lack of text were numerous and would make Las crazy if he kept thinking about it. So he sent Marco a message to give him a little nudge: How did it go? Except the spotty mountain cell service cut out and the message sat unsent. Great.
He was stepping into his clearing before he realized he smelled something fishy. And something slightly . . . charred? Sniffing, his head popped up, gaze alighting on one wayward boyfriend currently poking at something cooking in foil over the fire.
The grin that lifted his lips was instant, the huff of relieved-yet-confused laughter tingling his throat deliciously on the way out.
He dropped the cooler to the ground. “Marco.”
Marco shot him a distracted smile. “Hey.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to make us dinner.” He poked the foil some more with a pair of tongs, a frown marring his forehead. “I’ve seen you do this a dozen times but I don’t think I did it right. The fish is undercooked and the veggies are slightly charred.” He scratched his head. “You’d think it’d be the other way around.”
“No, I mean…” Las moved closer, the smell of burned food growing stronger, and ran a hand down Marco’s forearm to grasp his hand. His skin was warm from the fire, his palm slightly rough against Las’s. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in DC?”
“Never made it to the airport.”
“What? Why? Are you okay? Was there car trouble? Canceled flight?”
“Nope.”
Blowing out an annoyed breath, Las narrowed his eyes. Why was this like pulling teeth? “So what, then?”
Finally leaving the food alone, Marco set the tongs on the log behind him before turning to Las, squeezing his hand. “I realized I forgot something.”
“What?”
Marco’s smile was pure joy. “You.”
Las’s breath caught. “Oh.” Something featherlight and fragile landed on his chest, expanding outwards until the tips of his fingers tingled.
“Las, I should’ve told you this yesterday and I’m sorry that I didn’t.” Reaching out, Marco took Las’s other hand in his. “I’m not leaving.”
Stupidly, Las said, “But you were going to DC.”
Shaking his head, Marco blew out a breath that sounded hugely self-deprecating. “I don’t know why. Just that it all happened so fast—the phone call—and before I knew it, I was booked on a flight I didn’t want to be on. So I just went through the motions even though it wasn’t what I wanted. And then—don’t laugh. But I felt bad not getting on a flight that someone else had paid for. Until I realized this was the NHL we were talking about and not some budget-conscious mom-and-pop shop. Anyway.” He squeezed Las’s fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t say all this yesterday.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Las couldn’t speak above a strangled whisper. “I’m the one who’s sorry for pushing you away—”
“Wait, I’m not done.”
But wait! There’s more! rang through Las’s head, startling a bark of a laugh out of him. “Sorry?”
Taking a deep breath, Marco blurted, “Reid and I will be sharing an apartment in town come September.”
Las blinked. Blinked some more. “What?”
The curve of Marco’s lips was so gentle, it made Las’s eyes sting. “Las, when I said I wasn’t leaving, I meant ever. Well, I mean, I expect to fly to Philly to visit every once in a while but… Las, I’m staying. I’m moving into an apartment above the general store in a few weeks.”
A choked laugh escaped Las, that tingly feeling traveling south into his toes and the ground beneath him, rooting him in this moment. He walked right into Marco’s arms, his own coming up to grip the back of Marco’s T-shirt. “I was gonna do the long-distance thing,” he whispered into Marco’s neck.
“Long-distance to where?”
“Wherever you ended up. And then after grad school, I’d come join you wherever you were.”
“I’ll be right here.” Marco kissed his temple, his lips so soft and perfect. “If it makes you feel better, we will be doing the long-distance thing while you’re in Laramie.”
“Four hundred miles is nothing.” He pulled back, just a little, to look Marco in his dark blue eyes. “You’re really staying?”
“Lassiter.” Marco cupped his face, cheeks creased with happiness. “How do you not know that I love this place? That I love you?”
Las’s breathing hitched.
“That I love learning from Austin? That I want to try and make a go of this photography thing, see where it takes me? I want to stargaze with you and go to the Saturday market and learn more about ranching and find out why you wear green jewelry or why you ordered coffee from me every Thursday for four years but hate the stuff.”
He’d figured that one out, had he?
As for the green jewelry, the reason for it wasn’t all that interesting—it was his favorite color and it reminded him of home.
“Marco.”
“Lassiter.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
With a wide smile, Marco did. And it was messy and sloppy, both of them laughing into it, clutching each other as if they were the only thing holding each other up. Noses bumping, teeth clacking in a totally unsophisticated liplock.
Until…
“Um, Marco? Something’s burning.”
“Fuck!”
Las kept out of the way as Marco dealt with dinner. Laying the foil packets on the folding table, Marco pinched two fingers around one end and moved it aside. The amount of smoke that escaped was somewhat concerning. Las joined him, threading an arm around his waist, and peered at the foil’s charred contents.
Marco groaned. “Damn it.”
“It’s okay. We can just . . . cut off the burned parts?”
“I don’t think that’s going to save it.”
No, it certainly wouldn’t. Good thing Las had brought a cooler with enough food for two.
He kissed Marco’s jaw. “I love that you tried.” Setting his pride and fear aside, he swallowed hard and murmured, “I love you.”
Marco’s lightning-quick grin was worth it.
MARCO WAS HAPPY THAT HIS parents had decided to come visit him in Windsor. He was
less happy about their timing.
He checked his watch for the umpteenth time, keeping half an eye on the clock while he let his mom and dad give themselves a tour of his and Reid’s new apartment. Not that there was much to see given they weren’t due to move in for another two weeks. Right now, it was all blank taupe walls, empty rooms with wooden floors, and echoing voices.
“This is a nice place, Marco,” his dad said, coming out of the small kitchen at the back. “But I’m not sure why you’re showing it to us.”
Right. Marco squared his shoulders. After their flight had landed mid-afternoon yesterday, Marco had given his parents a tour of the town and treated them to dinner before they’d claimed jet lag and turned in for the night at a nearby bed-and-breakfast. Marco’s own way of stalling. But he couldn’t stall anymore, not when his mom was still sending him ads for jobs in Philadelphia.
“This is my new place.”
His dad’s eyebrows flew upwards, creasing his forehead. His mom gripped her purse strap tighter.
“You’re not coming home,” she said.
“We had a feeling.” His dad’s smile was a combination of proud and sad. “When you dodged your mom’s questions all summer about what you’d be doing after this.”
Marco rubbed his jaw, his short beard prickling his palm. “I dodged them at first because I honestly didn’t know where I was going after.”
“And now you do,” his dad said with a squeeze of Marco’s shoulder. “And it’s here.”
“But what will you do here?” His mom looked around the living room as if the answer would magically be written on the walls. “Continue working on the ranch?”
“No. Here, let me show you.” From over his shoulder, he removed the camera case he carried around everywhere now and took out the camera. Turning it on, he brought up an image he’d taken last week on a trip out of town with Austin.
“Wow,” his mom breathed, holding the camera so they could both see it. “You took these?”
“Yeah. If you hit this little button you can scroll through them.”
He checked his watch again as they did so. He had time. Lots of time. But also not enough time in the world.
Las was moving to Laramie today. His classes started on Tuesday and he was heading out five days early to get settled into his apartment and buy textbooks and attend a couple of events for grad students and generally get the lay of the land. Originally, Marco was going to go with him, in his own car so he could drive back a few days later. But then his parents had announced they were visiting this week, and what was he supposed to say? Sorry, I’m helping my boyfriend move? His parents were visiting from across the country. He’d see Las when Marco visited him next weekend.
