Traffic had settled with the setting sun. The headlights of Theo’s car cut a path down the quiet street to the little green sided house occupying the corner lot. He hit the button for the garage door as he pulled into the short driveway. Long, thin cracks ran through the concrete letting weeds and grass create a mismatched patchwork of gray and green.
Pulling forward in the single bay until the tennis ball on a string hanging from the ceiling rested on the windshield, he let out a sigh as the door slid down behind the now quiet car. He wasn't sure that he'd ever get used to claiming this house as his own, yet he couldn't bring himself to sell it.
Shaking off those thoughts, he grabbed his phone and the duffel with all his gym gear from the back seat before opening the door that led straight into the kitchen with its black-and-white checked floor. Everything was just as he'd left it. Which was exactly how she'd left it. A little window above the sink showed a back yard that the mowing crew he’d hired kept trimmed but lacked personal touch. He remembered flower beds spilling out riotous color and some of the familiar shame crept back in.
His phone vibrated in his hand. A jolt of excitement crowded out his somber thoughts, and he dumped his bag on the little round breakfast table and pulled up his messages.
Harbor: Don’t tell me what to do.
Harbor: Fucking text me back.
Theo laughed. He could imagine the look on Harbor's face, cheeks flushed red, blue eyes blazing. Reaching down to adjust himself at the reaction that image caused, he replied.
Theo: Bossy.
Harbor: You seem to like it though.
Oh shit. Theo quirked an eyebrow at his phone. He wondered if Harbor knew just how on point he was. His phone buzzed again, and he looked down at the screen.
Harbor: Where are you?
Theo: Just got to the house. Had dinner with some friends tonight. You?
Harbor: At Viridian.
The onslaught of memories from the one time he'd been to that club burned through him, right behind a wave of jealousy strong enough he actually considered getting back in his car and flooring it to Cincinnati. What the fuck is wrong with me? It's none of my business if Harbor's out hooking up. He refused to acknowledge that he hadn't even thought about going out and finding a willing body to spend the night with since he'd last seen Harbor, or the fact that Harbor might be doing just that...hurt.
Theo: Oh yeah? Any luck?
He pulled a chair out from the table and plopped down, eyes focused on the still blank screen.
Harbor: I'm not looking for a hook-up, Theodore. I'm nursing a beer and talking to my brother.
The relief was immediate and intense, but he refused to let on how much that thought had bothered him. He wasn't going to goad Harbor about it either. Didn't mean he couldn't goad him about something else.
Theo: What's with this Theodore shit, blondie?
Harbor: Isn't that your name? Theo = Theodore. What's up with this blondie shit?
Theo: You are blond, aren't you? Harbor = Blondie.
Harbor: Not even the same. Who were the friends you were with?
A slow smile crept over Theo's face. Maybe he wasn't the only one feeling some kind of way about all this.
Theo: Angie and Alex Slater. They're twins and own that gym I told you about. We've all been friends for a long time.
Harbor: It's good you're getting to see them.
Theo: It is. Think I'd rather be seeing something else about now though.
Harbor: Oh yeah? Well, I think it's bullshit you got a pic of me and didn't return the favor.
Theo: Now, you know I always return the favor
Open Wounds: The Boxed Set Page 16
