by Cate Ashwood
“Ya know,” Chloe said, sitting up with her beer in hand. “We really could get married.”
John snorted in response.
“No, think about it. We could get married and then move. I could make up a big job offer somewhere, and we could just go together. Then you could do your, ya know, thing, and I could do mine. Or, at least I could find a thing I wanted to do. Maybe.”
Sometimes John felt like that fishing pole. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, getting pulled at, stretched out. “Might could do, yeah. Though we don’t really need to get married for that.” He gave her a long look before he asked, “You really think you could do that to your momma and daddy, though? I know it’s been a few years, but after your bubba died….”
She let out a long breath, like she was weighing the question in her mind. “Maybe? It’s never gonna be the same for them—for any of us—but I can’t give up my whole life to make up for losing his, ya know?”
She was right, of course. And Billy wouldn’t have wanted her to. Her parents probably wouldn’t either if they thought about it.
“Or,” she said, looking less thoughtful and more playful again. “You could just come out to your parents and this dinky little town, and then we could run away and move somewhere big where no one knows us.”
“Is it really running away when I’m twenty-six years old?”
Chloe draped her arm around John’s shoulder. “It is when you’re running from them every day anyway.”
“Fair point.” She was right. He was already—always—running away from home.
“Are you just planning to wait until they die? Or… what? Just move away and never talk to them about your real life? Some guy you meet and fall in love with and are happy with but they never get to know?”
They had this conversation on a monthly basis, really. Pretty much anytime Chloe had a few beers in her—or God forbid, tequila—she’d push and prod and make him think, and dammit all. He loved her, but he hated the way she made him think. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It’s just easier this way, ya know? I don’t like rockin’ the boat, never have.”
“Yeah, hooking up with strangers online and jerking off in chat rooms in your little house right next door to your parents is so much easier than having a real life of your own.”
Ouch. “Hey, I have a real life, with a job and my family, you, my friends—”
Chloe swatted at a mosquito and flicked its bloody corpse from her knee. “Most of your friends are assholes.”
He couldn’t argue with that. They weren’t real friends, for that matter. Chloe was the only real anything he had. His parents were great, as long as you loved Jesus, didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t like cock, and could at least keep your shameful business (see also: premarital sex) a secret from the town and the preacher. And, of course, from them.
His sister was an amazing person. Or at least she had the potential to be, but she was on the verge of letting life grind her down to dust. His niece, Birdy, was a little firecracker and held most of John’s heart, but he wasn’t sure if he could still be in her life if his family knew, so, yeah.
Chloe was it, the one real thing in his life, the one person who loved him and all his flaws.
“You’re one to talk, ya know. Not like I see you going out and having a life either.”
“At least I tried,” she said, resting her chin on her hand, her face near his. “He cheated on me, and it really sucked. He wasn’t even that great.”
John turned his head to look at her, wrapped his arm around her. “One douche and you give up?”
“Well, two douches.”
Right. He always forgot about the one guy she dated before the asshole who cheated on her.
Chloe’s breath smelled like cheap beer and apple butter as she said, “I think I need to, I don’t know, figure out what I want for myself before I try to figure out what I want with someone else.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” John cracked a beer open and passed it to Chloe before getting the last one for himself. He knew he wouldn’t finish it, but it was the principle of the thing. “Did you think, when we were younger, that we’d just be… further along in life by now? I mean, I feel like mine hasn’t even started.”
“Well, yeah.” Her laughter spooked a bird and sent it flying into the dimming sky. “Hell, I thought I’d be married with a kid and a career by now.”
The katydids had started their songs. John knew the swamp would be alive with frogs and other such things soon, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. There was still some light, and being there with Chloe felt too good. “Career doing what?”
She shrugged. They were both pretty clueless about what they wanted to be when they grew up. “I don’t know,” she said, taking a long pull from her beer. “Maybe a vet? Or a nurse? Something helping people. Something better than answering phones and filing papers at the courthouse, anyway.”
Yeah, John could see that. Chloe taking care of sick kids or burn victims or something. She’d be great at it. “Or a doctor,” he added.
“What about you?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” Just as he was about to go on, he heard a small splash and his pole started to shimmy. He hopped up and grabbed his pliers from his tackle box. It didn’t take long to reel the fish in, but it was a good size. John always hated this part, the part where his catch would flop around, fight against him, gasp as he slid his fingers under the side fins and pulled the hook from its mouth. “At least I can still catch a fish,” he said with a half smile. Rather than reach for his knife—the one his favorite great-aunt had sold to him for a penny when he was nine years old—he tossed the fish into the cooler. The ice water in there would chill it, put it to sleep before it died. John always hoped that was the kinder way to do it.
“Not much money to be made in that, I imagine,” she teased. “Given that every other idiot in town can do the same.”
“Every idiot but you.”
John knew she was buzzed when she actually giggled. “Hey, I can, I just don’t. There’s a difference.”
“One of these days I’m gonna call your bluff and make you prove it.”
“But not today,” she said, reaching for her shoes. She seemed tense and started gathering her things into her purse.
John glanced around in the dusky light but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “What’s wrong?”
Chloe pointed out into the water. “That’s not a log driftin’ to shore,” she said.
“Shit.” He knew exactly what she was talking about. There were gators in the water, but they usually left well enough alone, weren’t aggressive much as long as you stayed out of their way. But John didn’t like to test them either, especially when he had Chloe with him. “Get in the truck. I’ll get our gear.”
Chloe scrambled to pick up beer cans and the few cigarette butts they’d left. “It’ll be faster if I help pack up,” she said, trying to gather whatever she could. They weren’t in a huge rush, exactly, but John watched as that long line in the water got closer and closer, as if it were on a one-way course with no distractions. Probably nothing would come of it. Probably the old thing would see them and turn around. Probably. But John didn’t like to rely on probably.
“I’ll grab this stuff. You get.”
She huffed and looked pissed off at him for bossing her around, but she got up and went like he’d told her to.
Thankfully, she didn’t lock him out of the truck in her irritation.
A few minutes later, they were inside the cab of his pickup, watching as the alligator climbed onto the shore, walked a few feet, and turned around. “Jesus,” he said, laughing breathlessly. “Guess he wasn’t too interested after all.”
“Or the only thing he was interested in already packed up and ran,” Chloe pointed out.
“Thankfully, we’ll never know.” As John started the truck, he said, “Remind me Sunday to come on back and double-check we didn’t leave anything. I hate to litter here
, but I’m not up for trying my luck a second time today.”
“Why not tomorrow?” she asked as John bumped through the trail, kicking up rocks and red clay with his tires.
He hated to answer for some reason. As if he were cheating on her. “Well, it’s Saturday night, so….”
“Oh, right.” She didn’t seem put off at all, but she did roll her eyes. “Good thing I live twenty miles from you. I’d be pissed if I had to hide in my apartment all night when you go out and find yourself a piece of ass.”
John let his head fall to the side and grinned at her. “But you’d do it anyway, right? Because I’m me?”
“Probably. Because I’m an idiot.” She shook her head and tried not to laugh. “You better pay me back for those beers now.”
“I got paid today. I’ll bring you money and doughnuts in the morning.”
“Good enough.”
She scooted closer and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.
Times like this, he didn’t mind his life so much. Sometimes it felt like it might crush him, but laughing and talking with his best friend, letting her tease him, seeing how much they both cared for each other, it wasn’t too bad at all.
Chapter Two
THE STICKY heat of the early evening made Matt restless. Zoning out on mindless TV didn’t change that. Nothing seemed to hold his attention. He shifted on the pale gray fabric of his sofa, his body searching for a cooler spot. There was no point. There wasn’t one.
Growing up in California, Matt thought he’d known what heat was. It turned out he had no idea. Barely March and the air in Magnolia Ridge, Georgia, was saturated with a heavy moisture that clung to his throat and terrified him at the thought of what July and August would bring.
The clock read nine, but it seemed so much earlier to Matt. He hadn’t yet made the transition to Magnolia Ridge time, which was three hours ahead of his hometown but felt about a century behind the rest of the world.
The first time he’d set foot in Georgia, he’d been there all of ten minutes before it had started to feel like home.
In reality, the place he’d grown up was about as different as it could get from rural Georgia, but the peacefulness, the quiet simplicity of Magnolia Ridge, called to something in Matt’s blood. Without even seeing the place firsthand, the town, the sense of timelessness, spoke to him in a way he couldn’t explain. As much as it dismayed his father, Matt couldn’t ignore it.
Now that he was here, though, his mind was almost as restless as his body. Maybe it was crazy that he’d picked up and moved clear across the country without a whole lot of forethought. An impetuous decision based on an emotional response and here he was.
He stood from the couch, clicked the TV off, and headed for the kitchen. The tap water was lukewarm no matter how long he ran it, but he filled a glass and brought it to his lips, realizing only then how parched he was. Matt drank in thirsty gulps. As he set his glass in the sink, his phone rang. Only two people had his new number, and his mom had called earlier. He grinned as Santiago’s name flashed across his screen.
“It’s hot as Satan’s balls down there, isn’t it?” His ex-partner’s voice came over the line, a welcome distraction from his inner monologue.
“You called me to talk about the weather?” Breaking the news to his partner had been almost harder than telling his mom. He’d tried to explain it to Santiago and come up short, but Santiago had always had his back and this was no different, whether he understood it or not. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give Matt shit about it.
Santiago chuckled. “Nope. Called to wish you luck tomorrow, ’cause you’re gonna need it. Whoever they assign you as a partner is gonna be a complete fucking disappointment after working with me.”
It was Matt’s turn to laugh. “Maybe, but I figure whoever it is likely won’t give me as much shit as you did, so I’m gonna call it a win.”
“That’s probably true.” Santiago’s voice lost its teasing tone. “You know the captain would welcome you back, no questions asked, if things don’t work out for you there. Living in Georgia is going to be a fucking culture shock. Can they even call it a police force if it’s just four guys sitting around with their dicks in their hands waiting for someone to blow through the only stop sign in town?”
Brothers in blue had never been as fitting as it was in relation to him and Santiago. They really were like brothers, and Santiago was the only reason Matt had hesitated that last second before sending off his application. But he needed this change. “You’re just pissed you’re stuck with Saunders as your new partner.”
“You might be on to something. Saunders is a fuckup, and you had better believe I’m documenting every single thing he screws up. I’m not getting my ass nailed because he’s a moron.”
“Thought you’d want your ass nailed no matter how the situation presents itself.”
“I might not be all that picky, but Saunders? Pass.”
Matt laughed. “Give the guy a shot. He’s new, and he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the wall, but if anyone can mold him into a good cop, it’s you.”
“That’s the fucking truth,” Santiago said, ever the picture of modesty. “Gimme a call later in the week and you can fill me in on all the ways the department down there is inferior to the SFPD.”
“I will. Enjoy your overnighters with Saunders in the meantime.”
“I hate you.”
Matt said goodbye and hung up. He missed Santiago already. He hadn’t expected to feel homesick quite this quickly, but things were so different here, and he felt so far removed from everything he’d ever know. It was a weird sort of juxtaposition, the sense of belonging and feeling so out of place all at once. But he liked it here. It’d only been a few days, but Matt was ultimately happy with his decision. It had been borne of a place of desperation, a snap decision in reaction to a shitty situation, but one he was satisfied with. He could see himself putting down roots in Magnolia Ridge.
The air was so still, but outside his door was a chorus of sound he’d never experienced before. Nature was fucking loud. Matt couldn’t put a name to the noises that seemed to reverberate through his tiny clapboard house. Of all the things in his new home, Matt thought that might be the most difficult to get used to. In San Francisco, the traffic was constant. Ever since Matt had arrived in Magnolia Ridge, he’d found it difficult to sleep. Even that first night, bone-weary from the road, he’d lain awake for hours, listening to the sounds of Georgia.
Days later, he still wasn’t used to it. It almost felt like someone was watching him, and a mild feeling of unease settled over him every once in a while. He was getting squirrely with so much time to kill, becoming more and more restless. With nothing to do but wait for his first day of work to arrive, there was a gnawing in his belly that wouldn’t settle. He walked back into the bedroom and grabbed some clothes from his closet. Going commando beneath his pale blue shorts, he pulled the tight white T-shirt on over his head and slipped his feet into his flip-flops. His keys made a scraping noise as he slid them across the top of the oak dresser and palmed them on his way out the door.
He didn’t have a destination in mind, but at least his truck had air-conditioning. Bob, his landlord, had promised it would be fixed by the following afternoon, but whiling away the meantime was agonizing in the heat.
Matt pulled out of the driveway, the headlights of his truck dim in the inky blackness. He made a mental note to look at replacing them with something more efficient. His truck was old. The belts squeaked and the air-conditioning only pumped out of one vent, but it had never died on him. Driving nearly three thousand miles had to have put some strain on the engine, but he hoped his luck would continue for a while yet.
Turning out of the long winding driveway onto the road, Matt squinted in the dark. Out here, the lights were few and far between, the street mostly lined with trees that threw shadows across the rough pavement. Matt reached forward and twisted the volume up on his stereo, filling the cabin of his tr
uck with mildly staticky country music. He relaxed back in the seat and let one hand fall into his lap, steering low on the wheel with the other.
He drove through the main streets, the lights brighter the closer he got to the center of town. It was quaint, like something out of a black-and-white movie, and part of Matt still hadn’t processed that this was his home now. Maybe where he’d be forever. The idea of moving to Georgia had been one that he’d kept buried in him since he’d been seventeen years old.
The police station was on the north side of Magnolia’s City Center, nestled between the fire hall and the Dairy Delite. The lights were on, and there were people milling around inside. The warmth in Matt’s chest built as he thought about being in there in just a few short days, getting sworn in and receiving his badge. He wondered if it would feel any different than the badge he wore for the San Francisco Police Department. Without a doubt, being a cop in Magnolia Ridge would be different than working for the SFPD.
Not wanting to look like a stalker, sitting parked outside the police station in his worn-out truck, Matt turned the wheel and drove. His mind still wandered through the possibilities of what the next week, month, year of his life would hold when he realized he’d reached the city limits. Sleep was so far beyond his reach that going back home would be fruitless. He knew there wasn’t anything for miles but forest and swamp, but Matt kept driving.
HE HADN’T meant to go so far, but when he realized continuing to the next town would take less time than turning around and heading home, he decided to press on. The gnawing in his belly had only intensified, and after a quick stop at a Chevron somewhere outside of Callahan, Florida, Matt finally acknowledged the source behind that gnawing and did a search on his phone for the closest gay bar.
He hadn’t been in Magnolia Ridge long but somehow doubted there was a vibrant gay scene in the tiny town. He’d been so busy, packing in a rush to leave, there hadn’t been any time for… stress relief.
