Trailer Trash (23 page)

Devastated. One simple little word to describe the horrible turmoil in his heart, the awful emptiness in his life, the Logan-shaped void nobody else would ever be able to fill, just standing there next to him at work, talking about girls while he put away the dishes.

Talking to Cody like he wasn’t so bad after all.

“I know he was your friend.”

“My friend,” Cody managed to whisper. “Oh God, Nate. He was my friend. He was my
only
friend.”

“I know.”

And then it all hit him at once, that hot, horrible weight he’d worked so hard to avoid suddenly filling his chest, rising into his throat, and Cody bent forward, gasping, trying to hold it in, wanting to just
maintain
. Just keep himself together.

“Cody.” Nate’s hand on his shoulder was so soft. So gentle. “It’s okay to cry.”

Cody shook his head, choking on his tears. “No, it isn’t.”

“It’s okay to miss him.”

That was the worst part, knowing he’d go on missing Logan like this forever. That nothing he did could change it. A sob burst out of him, wretched and humiliating but such a fucking relief after fighting so hard, and Cody gave up. He surrendered at last to the pain, shaking as he cried, almost falling to the floor as his knees gave out.

Good thing Nate was there to catch him.

Nate ended up sitting on the kitchen floor with Cody curled against his chest as he cried. It was painful, witnessing Cody’s grief, feeling the way Cody’s entire body shook with the force of his sobs, but Nate just held him, feeling strangely at peace. Holding Cody felt as natural as breathing. There was none of the strange terror like when he’d touched Christine, or the awkwardness he felt when he danced with Stacy.

It went through his head, over and over again as Cody’s tears finally began to slow.

This is right.

Although after half an hour or so, Nate’s backside was beginning to hurt. For the first time, he noticed how uncomfortable he was, scrunched against the cabinet, but he wasn’t about to disturb Cody now. Nate glanced around at the sad state of Cody’s home, and his heart ached for him anew. Even in the dim light, it was easy to see that the floor probably hadn’t been mopped in ages and the cracked linoleum was curling at the corners. Several of the cupboard doors hung crooked on their hinges. One was gone completely, revealing a shelf that contained only a couple of cans of soup and a jar of peanut butter, all generic brand. No Campbell’s or Skippy Extra Chunky for Cody. Probably no Coke or Pepsi in the fridge to wash it down with, either.

It was just one more thing Nate had taken for granted his entire life.

Eventually, Cody’s breathing slowed, although his chest still hitched every few seconds. Nate ducked his head, burying his nose in Cody’s dark hair, breathing in the clean smell of shampoo and the familiar tang of smoke.

“I’m sorry,” Cody whispered, between hiccups.

“For what? Being upset? You don’t need to apologize for that.”

“Do you know . . .” Cody had to stop and take a deep breath. Then, his voice even quieter, “Do you know how it happened?”

Nate had to think for a second about exactly what Cody was asking. “How he died?”

Cody nodded without moving his head from Nate’s chest.

“Didn’t you hear at school?”

“I heard a car wreck, but . . .” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to hear any more. I didn’t think I wanted to know, but now—”

He choked again, his shoulders shaking, and Nate hurried to fill the gap. He didn’t have to rely on the little information he had from his father. He’d heard plenty at school. “He was coming home from Casper with Shelley. Remember how it started snowing all of a sudden yesterday afternoon? I heard they stayed at his cousin’s through dinner, thinking the weather would clear, but it didn’t. And since it was a school night—”

“He should have stayed.”

“I know.”

“He shouldn’t have been in that stupid Camaro this time of year.”

“I know.”

“If I hadn’t traded shifts with him, if I’d just told him no, maybe he wouldn’t have gone to Casper at all and none of this would have happened.”

Nate wasn’t sure exactly what Cody was talking about, but it didn’t matter. “Maybe. But that doesn’t make it your fault. You had no way of knowing.”

“He just wanted to trade shifts.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. There was no reason for you to say no.”

“I wanted the hours! How could I think the hours were more important than him?”

“You didn’t.” Nate shook his head, rubbing Cody’s back as he tried to piece together what must have happened. “He asked for a favor, right? And you said yes. That’s all. You had no way of knowing.”

Cody shuddered. “And Shelley. God, I haven’t even thought about Shelley.”

“You didn’t know her as well.”

“All I can think about is going to work and not having him there to talk to. Or going to school and not having him sitting next to me in social studies.” He sniffled. “All I can think about is
me
, and how much I want him back.”

Nate stroked his hair. “I know.”

“Does that make me selfish?”

“I think that makes you normal. I think the rest will come later.”

“It should have been me.” He was crying again, although not the gut-wrenching sobs of before. This was quieter. “Logan was going to college. He was probably getting a football scholarship. He could have done anything.”

“I know—”

“He wouldn’t have been stuck here, don’t you see? He had more than the oil wells or the coal mines to look forward to. It should have been me! Nobody would care if I died.”

“That’s not true,” Nate said, holding Cody tighter. “I’d care.”

“I wish it had been me.”

“No,” Nate said simply, shaking his head. “No.”

Cody settled closer, his tears subsiding again. One arm snuck around Nate’s waist, and Nate’s heart swelled. He rubbed Cody’s back, making soft shushing sounds until Cody sighed and shifted his weight, pulling away a bit and tilting his head back to look up at Nate. The light from the porch fell through the kitchen window to be reflected off Cody’s damp cheeks.

“Thank you for coming over.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I feel like a jerk for crying all over you.”

“I don’t mind.”

Quite the contrary. He didn’t like seeing Cody in pain, but he appreciated having an excuse to be so close to him. It might have been arousing if Cody hadn’t been so distraught. Nate brushed a lingering tear from under Cody’s eye, then continued the caress, letting his fingers tangle into Cody’s black hair. They were almost nose to nose. It would have taken so little to close that gap—to simply claim Cody’s lips with his own. Nate knew how he’d taste—how the tears would have turned his tongue salty—and he almost moaned with the desire that rose up in him, seeing Cody look at him like that.

But he stopped himself.

This wasn’t the time. Not when Cody was wracked with grief over Logan.

“He wasn’t your only friend, you know. I’m sure that’s how it felt, these last few months. And that’s my fault, for being such an idiot, but I won’t leave you like that again.” He wasn’t sure if he saw doubt in Cody’s eyes, or if it was only his own guilt making him think so. “I promise, you still have one friend left.”

Cody leaned closer, and for one amazing second, Logan thought maybe Cody would take matters into his own hands and initiate a kiss himself, but he didn’t. “Promise me something else?” His voice almost cracked as he said it.

“Anything.”

“Let your dad buy you a truck. Please. Don’t make me lose you too.”

Nate almost laughed. He’d already made the agreement with his dad anyway. He wasn’t giving up his Mustang, but that didn’t mean he had to court death. “Okay.”

They stayed like that for a moment, lingering on that promise. Nate thought again how easy it would be to kiss Cody, but he found himself thinking of Logan. Wondering when Logan had last kissed Cody. Wondering how long it would be before Cody could kiss somebody and not think of Logan while he did it.

Now who’s being selfish, Nate?

Cody sat back on his heels and wiped his face. The motion moved him away, taking him out of Nate’s reach. Nate mourned the loss a bit, but he was also relieved to be able to stretch his legs and his back. And seeing the peanut butter had made his stomach grumble.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

Nate waited, trying not to smile. It seemed wrong to smile. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No.”

“Are you
sure
you’re not hungry?” Because Nate knew how grief could make somebody forget to check in with their stomach.

It took Cody a second to answer. “I guess maybe I am.”

“We could go downtown—”

“Uptown.”

“Uptown, then, and get ham-fried rice and sweet and sour pork.” The black-and-white labels in the cabinet caught his eye. He had no idea how much money Cody made at the Tomahawk, but he didn’t want that to be an issue. “My treat.”

Cody shook his head. “I don’t want to go in there.” Already, his voice was threatening to crack again. “All those people. Everybody will be talking about—”

“You’re right.” In such a small town, something as juicy as two teenagers dying in a gruesome car wreck would certainly have everybody buzzing. “How about if I go pick it up and bring it back here instead?”

Cody looked like he was trying to smile, even if he wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job of it. “I haven’t eaten there in years.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“Do they still have those little fried crab things? The ones with the cream cheese?”

“I have no idea, but if they do, I’ll get you some.”

This time, Cody’s smile looked a bit more genuine, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay.”

Cody pushed himself to his feet, then held a hand down to Nate and pulled him up too. Nate was a bit disappointed that Cody let his hand go as soon as he was standing.

Cody followed him to the door, lingering in the doorway as Nate stepped onto the porch and zipped up his jacket. Nate sensed his hesitance, and he wasn’t surprised when Cody reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

“You’re coming back, right?” Even now, it was as if he hardly dared to hope.

“With fried rice and crab wontons.” And just to seal the deal, Nate kissed him. Not on the lips, because he wasn’t brave enough for that yet. But he kissed Cody’s forehead, even though Cody went stiff as he did. “Twenty minutes or less, I promise.”

Cody didn’t answer. Didn’t respond at all. Didn’t even move. But Nate found himself smiling all the way to the restaurant.

Cody didn’t have much of an appetite despite not having eaten since breakfast, but Nate had gone to so much trouble that he felt compelled to eat. The food was good, but each bite hurt, as if daring to enjoy anything good about the world was a betrayal to his grief. How could he be excited about crab wontons, knowing Logan and Shelley were lying in a morgue in Casper?

“Nobody’s at the Tomahawk.” It came to him all of a sudden, and he had to set his fork down to fight the knot in his throat again.

Nate froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We alternate Mondays. It was Logan’s turn.” He felt like he should have remembered. Like he should have gone in to cover Logan’s shift for him, but the thought of standing by that sink again filled him with a horrible sense of despair. How would he ever get through his shift on Wednesday? He felt tears welling up again and hurriedly wiped them away. He was sick of blubbering in front of Nate, but his eyes weren’t cooperating.

“Why don’t you go watch TV or something?” Nate suggested. “I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge for you.”

Cody nodded, but it took a minute for the words to register in his brain. He made it to the couch before realizing the remote was out of his reach. Whatever. He didn’t want to watch TV anyway. The metal rabbit-ears on top of it had been a bit out of whack for a week, barely picking up anything anyway. He laid his head on the arm of the couch, curling halfway into a fetal position, finding some strange comfort in the worn, threadbare upholstery. At some point, Nate put an afghan over him, and Cody drifted in a warm place where he couldn’t quite remember how horrible the day had been.