by Megan Slayer
“Mick? Are you there?” Aldus asked. “Mick?”
Mick shook his head. “Sorry.” He swiped to end the call. Douchey, but oh well. He tucked the phone into his pocket. He preferred to watch Evan. He leaned against the wall of the barn and realization hit hard. His crush on Evan hadn’t died and he didn’t want to be just friends. The chances he and Evan would get together for more than a fling were slim to none. Would he be happy with being part of an affair? He’d claimed he wanted to sort out whatever was happening between them…later. Who was he kidding?
Mick liked Evan James. No, he liked Evan Conley.
Was he losing his touch? Evan would get bored with him if they dated. Evan was flashy. He knew people. Mick knew mostly older folks and married gay men. A relationship with Evan wouldn’t work.
Would it?
He wasn’t a fool. He’d never be able to walk away from Evan if they did get together. Yes, Evan wasn’t a true cowboy, but he looked great in those chaps he wore on stage and even better in those faded jeans.
Mick groaned. He knew the score. He liked Evan, but he held no belief that he and Evan would be a couple. That didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends and have fun. It also didn’t mean he couldn’t ogle Evan’s ass whenever he got the chance.
Evan drove past again, but this time, he slowed the tractor. “Mick?”
Mick waved. How in the hell would he make standing next to the barn seem natural? He had to think fast and hope Evan didn’t ask lots of questions. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Evan stopped the tractor and turned the engine off. He left the seat and ambled over to Mick. “What are you doing here? If you want to help stack straw, you’re not dressed for it.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “But I’ll gladly accept help.”
Fuck. “I needed to see you.” Sweaty, dirty and muscled…in my bed, out of bed, against my wall… Shit. He couldn’t say all that. “I wanted to touch base.” He should shut up before he made a fool of himself.
“Cool.” Evan turned his ballcap around and took off his sunglasses. Dust from the straw bales had collected on his hair and cheek. “We’ll be done in half an hour if you want to meet in the house.”
“Sounds good.” Was he blushing? His face heated. Could he play off his embarrassment as sunburn? “I’ll be there.”
“I figured you would.” Evan grinned and stepped in close. “If you want to stare at me, then do it. You don’t have to hide or act coy.”
“Evan.” He’d been caught. He should come up with an excuse, but none seemed appropriate.
“I like when you watch me,” Evan said. “I’d gawk at you.” He winked. “I’d come right out and tell you I’d watch you instead of lurking.”
The words he’d wanted to say faded. The vibe of attraction was strong, but still. Evan liked looking at him? Him? Had he finally outgrown the dorkiness from school?
“Strike that,” Evan said.
Better. Mick preferred Evan to be honest and not lead him on. “Cool.”
Evan chuckled. “Mick, I’m totally going to stare at you. You’re hot.” He walked back to the tractor without another word, then drove off.
Mick sagged again the wall of the barn. If anything, Evan knew how to flirt. He knew how to say the right things and get his way. Mick waited for Evan to drive away before he exhaled. Holy shit. His attraction increased and now he wanted to strut for Evan. But how long would the connection last?
Was he wrong to want to find out?
Chapter Four
Thursday morning, Evan met with the funeral director and went over the final details of Martha’s ceremony. He’d spent the majority of the morning with the young men employed to care for the animals and farmland. He liked the guys and planned to keep them on through the school year. If they wanted to continue on once they graduated, he’d give them permanent employment. The animals were taken care of and the ground worked on time. He couldn’t ask for more.
He sat through the details of Martha’s funeral and would’ve picked different music to be played at the calling hours, but she’d chosen what she liked. He respected her wishes.
Evan headed back to the farm with the job of finding photographs to be used at the viewing. He should find images of Martha, the family, Clem and the children.
Not a problem.
He knew what he wanted to use. He had boxes of photos to choose from and would display some of her quilted items, too.
When he stepped into the house, the wind rushed out of him and the heaviness of the moment hit hard. Alone. No more listening to his grandmother singing along with the radio. No more cookies being baked in the oven and her chasing him out of the kitchen to stop eating the fresh morsels. No more surprises or speeches about what to do with his life. His family was gone. He was the last one standing.
He spotted the bottle of the whiskey his grandfather had once drunk. He could lose himself in the blissful slushiness of the bottle, but why? Getting roaring drunk wouldn’t bring his family back. He’d be drunk, numb and lonely. When the buzz wore off, he’d have a headache and wouldn’t have any company. His stomach soured and he sank onto one of the kitchen chairs.
How in the hell was he supposed to rid himself of this melancholy? Tears slipped down his cheeks. His biggest supporter was gone. A hole ripped through his heart. He’d never replace his grandmother.
Martha wouldn’t want him collapsing in a bottle or feeling sorry for himself. She’d want him to get on with his life and remember the good times. She would’ve also chewed him out for getting lost in his own head.
Evan forced himself from the chair and into the family room. He wouldn’t forget his grandmother, but he could throw her a great send-off and remember the woman who’d made him the man he’d become.
He knelt beside the bookshelf where she kept the photo albums and rifled through one of the picture boxes. He could get sucked down the rabbit hole of looking, but so what? He had nothing to do and nowhere to go.
He flipped through the images. He’d seen many of them, but one caught his attention. Martha and a young man Evan didn’t know stood together on the beach. He’d never seen his grandmother in a bikini, yet there she was, slender, young and happy. The man wasn’t Evan’s grandfather and looked a bit like Martha. Who was this man? Whoever he might have been, he was handsome.
He flipped the image over, but no identification remained.
Damn.
Evan continued flipping through the photos, selecting a few for the photo wall and video the funeral home created to play during the viewing.
He noticed a letter within the photographs. The name on the envelope stumped him for a moment. Martha Michaels. He shouldn’t open the letter, but his curiosity got the better of him. Who was going to stop him?
He opened the letter.
Dear Sister,
Evan snorted. Sister? He hadn’t known Martha had a brother.
I’m sorry I haven’t written before now, but I’m finally putting down roots. Would you believe I made it to California? I’m here. It’s hotter than Cedarwood. Nicer, too. Everyone treats me like I belong. No jerks or bullshit from people who aren’t like me.
Evan crinkled his nose. Jesus. What had this person done that he was ridiculed? Evan kept reading. He needed to know more.
I found Cecil. It’s good to see him. He’s rooming with Dale and they’re inseparable. It’s good. They’re like an old married couple.
Was this man a rebel who ran away to be with his friends? Evan chuckled. He had to know more about this guy.
I’ve met the most wonderful man. Neil is sweet and quiet. He’s got the deepest blue eyes and his smile warms me to my core. Sis, I think I’m in love with him. Is that crazy? I’m in love. He even has a tattoo! I’d love to bring him to Cedarwood to meet you, but I don’t want to be booted out of town. I miss you and hope one day you can come to California to meet Neil.
He dropped the letter. Evan had an uncle who was gay. Where was this guy? He wanted to meet this man and
tell him Martha had passed. He rifled through the letters and photographs until he came across the one of the young man with Martha. He found another of the pair together. The man could be his uncle. He flipped through the images and spotted yet another of the young man, but this time him standing with another man. Was this Neil? He checked the back of the picture, but again, no identification had been made.
He continued to look through the photo albums and boxes. None of the people in the pictures featured the man with Martha or the guy with him.
Evan came across another envelope, wrinkled and stained. Instead of the loopy scrawl, the words had been typed across the front. Martha Conley. He frowned as he opened the letter.
Dear Mrs. Conley,
I regret to inform you of the passing of your brother, Edwin Michaels. He was found dead of an apparent gunshot wound.
God damn. Edwin. That was the man’s name. Evan would never meet him. Edwin had been run out of town for being gay, so he’d gone to California where he’d met Neil. Instead of having a story book ending or at least growing old together, Edwin had been shot to death. With Neil? Because of Neil?
Evan checked the letterhead, then sat back against the sofa. SFPD. San Francisco Police Department. Holy shit. His uncle had gone to San Francisco.
“I have an uncle,” Evan murmured.
“You what?” Mick stood in the doorway. “What happened?”
Tears pricked his eyes and he fought for his words. Mick could help him. Christ. The numbness from losing his grandmother intensified. He’d lost two people. “Do you believe it?” His voice cracked. “I have an uncle.” He tried to keep the tears at bay, but lost the fight. Fuck it. “You came back.” He hadn’t expected to see Mick until the funeral.
Mick joined him on the floor. “Martha had a brother?”
Evan wiped his cheek. “Yeah. Edwin.” Tears continued to fall. The grief over losing his grandmother was still fresh, but now he couldn’t help but weep for missed opportunities with his uncle. “I’m sorry.” He kept thinking of his grandmother at the funeral home and how she was alone. His uncle had been alone, too. Evan tried to tamp down his devastation, but failed. He didn’t like leaving his grandmother at the funeral home. His chest ached from his upset, but he couldn’t stop the emotions springing forward.
Mick slid his arms around Evan. “Don’t be sorry.” He rocked Evan and petted his hair. “You’ve been through a lot.”
Evan sobbed. Jesus. He hated crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop. His body hurt and he leaned hard into Mick. Thank God Mick had come over. He needed him. He breathed Mick in and allowed his soothing presence to work its magic.
Mick offered a hanky. “I’m excited to hear about your uncle.”
Evan cleared his throat and dried his cheeks. He needed another moment to compose himself. “I just found out about him.” He met Mick’s gaze. The man had beautiful dark eyes and a kind smile. In a way, Mick reminded Evan of Neil. Did Mick have a tattoo, too?
“How’d you find him?” Mick asked. “She never mentioned having a brother.”
“She wouldn’t, because he died.” Evan held up the letter. “Will you help me figure out what happened? It’s been years since he died, so the trail might be a dead end, but I want to know how he perished.”
“I’ll help.” Mick accepted the letter. “This is fifty years old, though. The records might not be available.”
“I know.” He composed himself and sat up. “He met a guy. I don’t know what caused his death, other than being shot, but I know he left Cedarwood. Sounds like he left town because he was gay and run off.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” Evan echoed. “I guess the same bullshit we’ve been dealing with for the last few years isn’t new.”
“Guess not.” Mick rubbed his chin. “We can contact the police and request the information. I’ll get on it today.”
“Thanks.” Evan sighed. “Do I have to designate you as my lawyer for you to gain access?”
“You do.” Mick smiled. “I’m happy to help, and since I’m already working for your grandmother, it’ll be easier.”
“I’ll pay.” He would have to sort out the finances and convince his asshole manager to cough up his money. If they had to park the bus at the farm and let the band go, then they did. He had few choices. Someone had to run the farm. Besides, he wanted to find his uncle. Cost wasn’t important.
“I wouldn’t charge you for this.” Mick leaned against the sofa and crossed his ankles. “What are you doing today?”
“I met with the funeral home this morning and was instructed to find photos for the viewing.” At the moment, the task overwhelmed him. “What about you? What brought you by? Did you know I needed you?” It was crazy to think so, but oh well.
“I had a feeling.” Mick smiled. “I needed to get out of the office and I wanted a break. You’re a great person to take a break with.”
Evan toyed with the letter. “Is the estate that confusing?” Mick couldn’t be giving him a compliment. No way. The attraction had to be all in Evan’s head. He wanted the connection to be real.
“No. My fellow lawyer is a prick and kept giving me hell about you,” Mick said. “He likes to be nosy.”
“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t wanted to cause Mick trouble. Damn. The connection wasn’t as strong as he’d thought. Oh well.
“No, he’s a dick.”
“What’d I do that bothered him?” Evan asked. He’d put up with the slings and arrows from haters before. He’d do it again. “I’m too country? Not country enough? I’m a lousy musician? I’m slumming by returning to Cedarwood? Or I’m not sticking around and he’s sure of it? Or is it because I’m gay? Did he figure it out?”
Mick grinned. “You’re too old-school country and won’t stick around—so he says. He thinks you should’ve stayed here instead of wasting your time.” He paused. “You’ve put up with a lot of shit from people, haven’t you?”
“More than my share.” Evan winced. He’d heard every one of the lawyer’s arguments a hundred times. That didn’t mean the insults weren’t painful. “Do you believe it?” Had Mick even heard his music?
“No.”
What a relief.
“I also didn’t appreciate it.”
“Thanks,” Evan said. “It’s nice to have someone in my corner.”
“My pleasure.”
The long silence between him and Mick didn’t bother him. No, he considered it sweet. To anyone passing by, they looked like they were a couple. Boyfriends. He swept his gaze over Mick. Having a friend pleased him.
“The guy told me your songs were okay and you’d never have another hit. I wasn’t sorry when I told him I didn’t agree. I enjoy your music. I’m not much of a country music fan, but your album was good. I listened to the whole thing all the way through.” Mick blushed. “I might have gone fan boy for a little while.”
The tips of Evan’s ears burned. He loved his fans and lived for them, but having the compliments coming from Mick was better. “Thank you.”
“I like the twang,” Mick said. “It works for your style.”
“It’s considered my Achilles’ heel.” He chuckled. “Grandma liked it, too. She’d tell me to stick to my roots.”
“I’m glad you did.”
The tenderness in Mick’s words resonated in Evan. He toyed with the letter again. “I’m sorry you were given hell because of me.”
“Bud’s an ass.” Mick shrugged. “Maybe I needed some you time and this was just the cosmos’ way of pushing us together.”
“Me time?” Warmth surged through Evan. “You told me yesterday you wanted to wait and I got the feeling you were saying it just to make me happy.”
“I had my eyes opened today.” Mick scooted closer to Evan and held his hand. “I was afraid you were just leaning on me because you’re stuck with me.”
“Ah, proximity.” He should’ve known.
“Yeah.” Mick kissed the top of Evan’s hand. “I tend to e
nd up dating guys who want to be with me for free legal advice. They don’t really see me and they get repulsed when they realize I deal with wills. It creeps them out.”
“What you do is important.” People could be strange. He had some who wanted to rip his clothes off just to say they’d had a piece of him. Women wanted to sleep with him to say they’d slept with someone famous.
“Yeah, but no one wants to think about dying,” Mick said. “It’s a buzz kill.”
“I suppose it could be.” He spied the photograph of Martha and Edwin. “But look at things like this. Edwin had his whole life ahead of him. I’ll bet he never really thought about dying. He did his thing.”
“He did.” Mick rested shoulder to shoulder with Evan. “Speaking of dying…all you have to do is supply photos for the video and picture collage. Everything else is handled.”
“I know.” He stared at Mick. Up close, he noticed the flecks of amber in Mick’s dark eyes and the fullness of his lashes. Giddiness filled him, but he relaxed. He wanted to keep Mick talking. “Did your last boyfriend leave you because of your job?”
“He did. He got into trouble with the law—had a DUI—and wanted me to get him out of the ticket. I refused because I can’t get him out of those things. I also refused because he’d never learn if there weren’t any consequences. I won’t lie for him or anyone else,” Mick said. “He comes around every so often, but it’s a closed Chapter in my life.” He paused. “What about you? Did you have someone special?”
“I was put together with women and had to lie. I was told gay wouldn’t sell and I wanted to be a country music singer, so I pretended to be straight. Maybe being myself would sell. Maybe not.” He held Mick’s hand a little tighter. “I wasn’t ready to be out, but why hide? I’m not going on the road any time soon and my career is more or less over.”
