Depth of Field (Last Chance Book 1)

by Riley Hart

  He hadn’t caught any other fish as he sat there, but then, he wasn’t worried about that. He went out there more for time alone than anything else, which was funny because he had plenty of time by himself. It was different there, though.

  After coming home he’d checked on his mom, before going back home to strip out of his clothes and take a nap for a few hours. It was close to dinnertime when his eyes opened, and Shane forced himself out of bed. Fuck, he’d needed that sleep. Probably needed more of it.

  He tried to put the day behind him. He went straight for his shower, turning it on and stepped inside. The hot water felt good against his anxious body, so he let himself savor it a little longer than he normally would have before getting out and pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, jeans, and a white T-shirt.

  Once he finished getting ready, he made his way across the property and back over to his mom’s. He always used the back door which led to the kitchen. She’d just closed the oven when he entered.

  “Oh, I was making you some chocolate cake,” his mom said.

  It was a peace offering because she felt guilty. She always made him chocolate cake when she felt bad. “You don’t have to do that, ya know?” Shane sat down at the table.

  “What? Make something special for my son? That’s all I’m doing.”

  “Okay,” he replied because he didn’t want to argue with her.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s not supposed to mean anything, Ma. Smells good.”

  She smiled at that. “It’s a new recipe I found online. I think you’re going to like it.”

  She walked over and kissed his forehead. “You smell good.”

  “Like soap.” He frowned at her. Cologne and all that shit wasn’t his style. He sure as hell wasn’t going to put in anything extra to see Van at Round Table.

  “Huh. Not sure what the difference is. I was thinking we could skip dinner tonight. Just eat massive amounts of chocolate cake and watch horror movies or something.”

  Which was likely what he should do. What was the point in spending any more time with Van? The guy was only there temporarily. Still, he found himself saying, “I was thinking about going out tonight.”

  “Portland?” she asked.

  “No, just Round Table.”

  A smile stretched across her face. She looked good, better than she had that morning. “With Ryan?”

  Shane rolled his eyes. “I told you he’s straight, and can you not talk to me like I’m sixteen? I just felt like going out for a few beers, but if you need me to stay home with you, I can. Actually, maybe I should just stay. I’m a little tired anyway and—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Don’t do that, Shane. Please don’t. You’re thirty years old. If you want to go out, go out. You do not owe me your life. I don’t want you to stay in with me.”

  But I’m not sure if I want to go out with Van….

  “That’s not why I was thinking about staying in.”

  “You’re a bad liar, and I’m fine. I’m just in a little bit of a funk is all. You know how my cycles are.”

  Yes, he did. He knew her depressive cycles better than she did. They’d have their good times and their bad. Things weren’t too hard right now, and he hoped it stayed that way. Just a small dip and not the plunge off the cliff they’d experienced in the past.

  “Okay, but I do have a little while before I have to leave. You know I’m not going anywhere without cake.”

  They talked as the food baked. Once it cooled, Shane helped her frost it. They each devoured a large piece before Shane worked with her on her puzzle for a little while.

  When it was almost nine, he stood and stretched, saying, “I have my cell on me like always. Call if you need anything, okay?”

  “I’m fine, Shane. I’m probably going to watch a movie and go to bed. That’s it. Have fun with Ryan.”

  He nodded, instead of correcting her. He knew where it came from, her obsessiveness with Ryan. Since they’d become friends she hoped for more, because if Shane found someone, it might ease her guilt a little that he’d stayed.

  Shane gave her a hug goodbye and walked out. He went back to his place and brushed his teeth again. The whole time silently cursing himself for telling Van not only that he’d be at Round Table, but also for that morning. He’d forgiven the guy, but did that mean they needed to hang out? He couldn’t deny Van intrigued him. Shane was curious about all the ways he’d changed.

  He shoved those thoughts away, not willing to dwell on them before jogging out to his truck. The motion detector light came on as he made his way there, lighting the way for him.

  The drive to Round Table was short because the drive anywhere in Last Chance was short.

  He saw Van’s car in the lot as he pulled in, Van’s words from that morning filtering through his head.

  Maxwell Sullivan had been afraid of his father. All those years he smiled and laughed and pretended everything was perfect, he was being abused. And in return, he’d abused Shane. A horrible cycle.

  Shane’s throat burned as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. Christ, he couldn’t believe that had been Van’s reality underneath all that ugliness.

  And for the first time in his life, he felt like the town had failed someone other than himself and his mom.

  How many more secrets lingered within the county line that no one knew about, or that people kept quiet about?

  Before he sat here dwelling on shit that couldn’t be changed, Shane killed the engine and got out. He heard the beat of music through the walls of the building, and it got louder the closer he got. He felt oddly nervous.

  It was a Saturday night—the busiest night of the week at Round Table. Music assaulted him as he pulled the wooden doors open.

  Shane scanned the busy bar, packed with bodies standing around and at the long counter. There was nothing to do in Last Chance besides drink on the weekends. There was the movie theater, but the teens usually went there. For those who didn’t want to drive to Portland, it was one of the two bars.

  He scanned the room until his eyes landed on a booth in the back. Van wasn’t facing the door. His black curls somehow looked a little longer from the back. He was bent over the table looking at something, a pink T-shirt stretched across his muscular back.

  He’d obviously known Van was already there since he’d seen his car, but Shane cocked his head slightly, thinking about the fact that he’d not only come, but he’d come early. It was eight fifty-five and Shane had expected to beat him here.

  A body stumbled into Shane from behind and he turned around to see Beverly, another woman about his age whom he’d known his whole life. “Oh, hey, Shane. Sorry. My husband was supposed to call you. My car is making a funny noise.”

  Shane grinned at her. “You know how Lyle gets. I’m sure he got busy with work and spaced it. You can bring the car down on Monday if you want.”

  “Thanks, Shane. You’re the best. My sister is still hoping you’ll ask her out, you know.” Beverly winked at him. They had to know he was gay but every resident in Last Chance liked to pretend otherwise, trying to hook him up with women. Maybe it was hard for them to accept since he didn’t have a boyfriend and wasn’t parading lovers around town.

  “She’s a lovely girl but I’m pretty sure we both know why that won’t ever happen.”

  Beverly giggled and swatted his arm. “I’ll see you later!” she said before making her way through the crowd. Shane figured he should do the same and headed toward Van’s table.

  “Hey!” he said when he reached it. Van’s head snapped up, startled.

  “Oh. Hey.” It was loud enough that they both nearly had to shout to talk. Van exited out of his screen on his phone and nodded toward the other seat. “Have a seat. I’m glad I got here early and got us a table.”

  Shane noticed his beer was half gone as he sat across from him. “You know how it is. Nothing to do in this town.”

  “They could party up the old mountai
n fire roads like we used to.”

  “Like you used to. Not me,” Shane reminded him and felt a small stab of guilt at Van’s frown.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Shane waved him off. “I’m being a dick. I have a lot on my mind. You’re fine.”

  Van leaned back in his seat. “I can drink to that. Jesus, if just being back here wasn’t bad enough. My mom doesn’t make it any easier.”

  His voice sounded beat down in a way Shane himself felt sometimes. He wasn’t sure exactly how to reply though. “Yeah, family is hard. And you guys…you’re going through a lot.” He hoped that was the right thing to say. What was Van feeling with the death of his abusive father?

  “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Hell if I know,” Van replied and Shane chuckled.

  “This is weird as shit.” Shane wished he had a beer to drink. As he glanced around for their waitress, he caught eyes on them. “You know half the people in this room keep looking at us, right? They know there was never any love between us, so now they’re wondering where you’ve been for twelve years, what it means that you’re back, and why the hell we’re sitting here together.”

  “Let ’em wonder. They were always so goddamned nosy when they shouldn’t be, but didn’t pay attention to the things they should.”

  Like what was happening in the Sullivan household.

  In a way, what had always been happening at Shane’s house too.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” Van added.

  “I wasn’t sure if I’d come either.”

  They looked at each other. Van’s eyes were different shades of green. He was a stranger, yet familiar at the same time. Someone Shane hated, but also wanted to know.

  “I—”

  “Maxwell Sullivan!” Trinity stepped up to the table. “I didn’t know you were back in town. Give me a hug!” Van stood to hug her. “I was real sorry to hear about your daddy.” Her eyes flashed to Shane sharply as if to beg him not to announce that she definitely had known Van was coming back.

  “Hey, Trin. How you doing?” For some reason, hearing Van use the nickname with her made him wince. He remembered they used to date.

  “A lot better now that I’ve gotten to see you. I missed you, Max.” She squeezed him and Shane just leaned back in his seat and waited. Once the hug was over Van sat back down. His eyes darted toward Shane uncomfortably. Because he thought Shane felt out of place or because he did, Shane wondered. “How long are you back in town for?” she asked.

  “I don’t know exactly. It won’t be too long. I have to help my mom sort a few things out.”

  “We just got you back! We don’t want to lose you too soon.” Trinity winked at him. She had a Round Table shirt on and Shane had to admit he was thankful she was working and couldn’t join them.

  Van picked up his beer and took a swallow. “It’s likely to be a quick trip. I have some stuff back home I need to take care of.” Van looked at Shane. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  “Coors,” Shane replied. “I’ll get the next one.”

  “This is so great. I didn’t know the two of you were friends,” Trinity added.

  “Shane took mercy on me,” Van joked and Trinity laughed.

  “Please,” she said. “Like it’s a hardship to hang out with you. I’d love to spend some time with you before you leave. Maybe we can hang out. I can give you my phone number.”

  “That’s nice of you. I can’t make any promises since I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but maybe we can grab lunch or something. I’m warning you though, it might be a little more of a hardship to spend time with me than you think. I’m a little more of a homebody than I used to be. I used to drive my ex-boyfriend crazy.”

  If Shane had been drinking something, he sure as shit would have choked on it. As it was, he just had his tongue, and he ridiculously started coughing out of the blue. Holy shit, he had not expected Van to blurt that out. Who the fuck was this guy?

  “You’re…oh…oh,” Trinity said as she looked at Van. Shane could see her dissect him, trying to figure out how Maxwell Sullivan was gay, or at least bisexual, as though he had to fit into some kind of mold.

  Trinity turned to Shane, then back at Van, then to Shane again.

  “That’s nice…good for you,” she told Van. “I’ll go get you that beer, Shane.”

  The second she disappeared through the crowd, Van asked, “Think I should talk to her? I didn’t mean to embarrass her but I don’t want to lead her on either. And I sure as shit won’t pretend I’m someone else again.”

  Christ, this man had him so confused, twisted and tied in knots in an uncomfortable way. “How are you Maxwell Sullivan?” he asked, even though the question was a silly one.

  “I’m not. I told you, I’m Van.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Van saw the skeptical look in Shane’s eyes. Still, the other man nodded and then said thank you when Trinity approached the table again with his beer.

  She smiled at Van, and he considered talking to her again but figured that would likely make it more awkward than anything. He’d told her they could grab lunch, which they could and mentioned an ex-boyfriend just so she could be aware. There was no harm in that.

  When she disappeared again, he returned his attention to Shane. Watched as he took a swallow of his beer and then licked his lips. He was sexy as hell. He’d grown a couple inches in the later years of high school and had beefed up a bit since then. Not that he looked like a gym rat or anything, but there were long cords of defined muscles in his arms. His chest looked solid, and his waist dipped in. Van had a feeling there was a nice set of abs underneath his shirt.

  “You’re looking at me weird,” Shane said, pulling Van from his appreciation.

  “You’re different.”

  “I am,” Shane replied. More than just physically, too, Van thought. There was a confidence to Shane he didn’t have when they were younger. He’d always been strong-willed. He defended himself, even when he’d known it was a losing fight, but he’d still looked a little lost back then. He held his head higher now.

  “It’s fucking strange, though. Everything feels the exact same. It’s like the moment I drove into town I went through a time portal where we all look older but nothing else has changed.”

  “No shit,” Shane replied. “I’ll drink to that.” They each held their beers up and clanked them together.

  “Tell me about your shop,” Van asked him. He was curious about Shane, about his life.

  “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself. I was always good around an engine. It came naturally to me. I used to work with Old Man Davies out at his place in high school.”

  “Really?” Van asked. He’d never known that.

  “Yeah, he taught me some shit. Would let me fuck around with old cars when they got towed in and no one claimed them. After high school, I traveled back and forth between here and Portland to get my certificate. I worked at some shops out there but the commute was fucking brutal. Took a while for me to get my own place but it’s going well and I get to do something I love every day.”

  Yeah, Van too. He didn’t say that though, he just wanted to learn more about Shane. “What’s your favorite thing about it?”

  Shane’s dark brows pulled together. “Huh?”

  “Your craft. What’s your favorite thing about it?”

  He frowned and Van wondered if he’d said something wrong. “No one has ever asked me that before,” Shane replied.

  “Then I’m glad I did.” Van finished off his beer while he waited for Shane to answer.

  “Well, shit…I don’t know. I guess in a way it feels like bringing something back to life. Cars make sense in ways people don’t, ya know?” he shook his head. “Or not. Christ, look at us, getting all deep and shit.”

  Van chuckled, then waited to see if Shane would continue.

  “I feel like I
understand an engine better than I ever could a person. And I’m fucking good at what I do, which is a plus.” Shane winked and Van grinned.

  Van liked him, he realized. Shane was someone he could be friends with. Maybe even someone he could have been friends with twelve years ago if he hadn’t been so fucking scared to open his mouth and go against the grain. “Always a plus,” Van finally replied.

  There was a loud rumble that came from the doorway as a group came in laughing and talking.

  “Jesus, does the whole fucking town come here on weekends?” Van asked, leaning in so Shane could hear him.

  “Not usually. I mean, it’s busy, but not like this. Maybe they all wanted to make an appearance because you’re back.” Shane winked, obviously meaning it playfully but the thought made Van’s gut heavy.

  He looked up just as a couple of guys stumbled to the table. “Holy shit! I heard you were back but I didn’t believe it. Maxwell fucking Sullivan. You think you’re too good for us now?”

  Van locked eyes with Randy Jensen, one of his friends from high school. The two men and two women beside him looked familiar too but Van couldn’t remember their names.

  After a beat, Randy said, “I’m giving you shit. Give me a hug, bro,” and Van stood and did just that. Larry and Brad were the other men, he realized after a few moments. The women were Randy and Brad’s wives.

  “We were real sorry to hear about your dad,” Larry said. “Tragedy. He was such a good man.”

  Van’s beer suddenly tried to crawl back up his throat. He was tired of people saying that. He cleared his throat. “You all know Shane, right?”

  “Hey, man. What’s up?” Randy said to Shane and the others followed along before returning their attention to Van.

  They spoke for a few minutes, tried to get Van to join them at the bar, which he declined, before walking away.

  Van turned to Shane again. “Sorry, about that, I—”

  “Max? Oh my God. Max, is that you?” Tracy nearly tackled him in the booth, giving him a hug.