You're Always in the Last Place You Look (31 page)

Gary groaned, slapping a hand over his face. “I can’t believe your telling this story.”

I was laughing so hard tears were squelching out of my eyes, and Albert, who I was sure had heard this before, was laughing just as heartily, his forehead leaning against my shoulder.

Gavin ignored his boyfriend and went on with a flourish of his hand. “
Well
, needless to say the cat was out of the bag. Mom had fainted—thus the thump—and Dad was more pallid than what I was about to leave on the backside of that bear. He dragged my sister out of the room and closed the door on what I was sure was the most disturbing thing he’d ever seen.” Gavin shrugged. “They left me alone, so, of course I finished deflowering the very sexy and soft pink bear.” He chuckled then sighed forlornly. “I was heartbroken when she burned the thing, but I couldn’t really blame her. I don’t think she’s ever really forgiven me for it actually. However, she
did
let me keep the thong.” Bracelets clinking, Gavin swiped his fingers through Gary’s spiky hair. “Good thing too, since it’s Gary’s favorite.” Gary shot him a murderous look, blushing from the collar of his navy dress shirt to the roots of his blond hair.

Albert moved over flush with my side, and draped his arm across my shoulders. He smelled, not unpleasantly, like hair products and pine, and Al’s arm felt foreign lying across my shoulders. It was hard not to shrug the weight off. This was a date after all, so of course he’d want to touch me. I just wasn’t sure I was ready for the physical aspects with someone I barely knew.

“God, I love that story. One of the best coming out stories ever.”

I had to agree it was a pretty amusing story, even if I now knew more about Gavin, and Gary for that matter, than I ever wanted to know.

“What’s your coming out story, because I know you have one—we all do,” Albert asked in a probing, but conscientious tone. I stared at my hands resting on the grey Formica table, not sure I was ready to talk so casually about Zane. Yet without him, there would be no story at all. I felt the now familiar ache gaining strength in my chest, and I took a hearty swallow of my soda, hoping to drown it out.

“Gabe only came out a few months ago,” Gary offered gently, obviously zoning in on my distress.

Albert retreated, removing his arm, and I looked at him, his soft brown eyes, his square jaw, his full lips tensed pensively. And for some reason, I found myself saying, “It was a guy. I fell for a guy.”

“Isn’t it always a guy?” Al sighed as if he had gone through this before—possibly having been hurt by someone rebounding. I wanted to think I wouldn’t do that to someone. Hoped I wouldn’t anyway.

Reaching over, I took his hand, running my thumb across the prominent knuckles. His eyes rose questioningly. “He left me, not even a backwards glance, and I’m over it,” I assured him. Although I wasn’t sure I would ever be
over
Zane—he was my first love after all—but I knew it was time I moved on.

The smile Al gave me was soft and radiant, while his eyes told me a completely different story, raking over me hotly, causing my blood to surge off and ignite me chest to forehead. Although he didn’t say a word, his playful smirk and the way he squeezed my hand told me I was blushing madly.

We chatted about college life, laughed about the stupid things we did in high school and before, talked about parents, then Gary brought up the fact I rope, and I found out Al grew up in Spokane guiding trail rides during the summer. It was only a small thing, yet at least it was something in common. That was more than Zane and I began with.

The waitress returned with the check, and we all began removing wallets. “Put that away,” I told Al. He shot me an annoyed look. “Listen, you’re the starving college student, and right now I’m working more than full time. Couple months from now you might find me knocking on your door begging for pizza crusts.”

He gave me a lopsided grin that was kind of endearing. “Does this mean I’m getting lucky?”

“Buh, uhm...”
Way to be articulate
,
you idiot
. I blinked at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not.

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.” Shrugging slightly he added, “You can’t blame a guy for trying though.”

Thank God
! I had no idea how to play that one, because I wasn’t a casual kind of guy, or at least I didn’t think so. A shiver of apprehension skittered down my back. No, I definitely wasn’t.

I threw some bills on the table. “No, I suppose not, and I’ll try not to hold it against you.” That made everyone laugh, whether at me or at the situation, I wasn’t sure.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Albert walked with me to my truck, his hands clasped behind his back, mine wedged into the front pockets of my jeans. We were close to the same height, and our shoulders kept brushing together. It was like walking with Tye. Comfortable. And I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.

“When Gavin wanted to set me up with one of Gary’s friends, I didn’t know what to expect. I figured you’d be some backwoods hokey farm boy—”

“That eats with his hands, has cow shit on his boots, a gun in his truck, and grunts a lot?” I added.

He grinned. “Pretty much.”

I stopped at my truck, glancing down at my Justin boots. “Well, I have the boots, and there’s no guarantee they’re completely void of horse shit...”

“They’re fine boots,” he said without even glancing at them, instead he was staring at my mouth, making me nervous.

“Decide that as you were checking me out when I first walked in?”

“No.” He moved towards me until I was sandwiched between the fender and his body, a slim thigh nestled against my crotch.
Okay
,
a little aggressive
. “I was just admiring the view...” His head tipped up, and I saw Albert’s intent in the chocolate depths of his eyes only a moment before he kissed me.

I couldn’t have made it a simple kiss had I wanted too. The second his lips crushed mine, his tongue was in my mouth, appearing to be probing for my tonsils. I still had them, and if he kept on with his assertive exploring I was sure he would find them.

A hand latched onto the back of my neck, another clasped my butt, while my hands discovered the lip of the wheel-well. As he forced his thigh between my legs, my fingers dug into the grime along the inside of the rim.
Shit
. My muscles, tendons, and ligaments froze up, becoming useless all at the same time. A similar fear to the one that had taken me over in Amy’s basement licked coldly at my skin.

I barely noticed his hand moving to my waist, the hold his fingers had on my neck softening into a caress. It was Albert’s tongue withdrawing that snapped me out of my fixed state, allowing me to loosen my hold on the wheel-well. He drew back, his strong face became a jumble of soft curves as he looked at me.

His eyes narrowed. “Maybe too much, too soon...”

Despite the trembling riling my insides, I mustered a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe,” I admitted, not sure where things had gone so wrong.

A hand ran roughly through his bronze hair. “I didn’t mean to push, you’re just really...” Moving half a step back, he rubbed his face, then muttered, “Damn, I probably fucked this up.” His hand fell to his side, his eyes intent on mine. “It’s hard to find someone genuine nowadays. Not messed up, you know? And I’d really like to see you again, Gabe. Hopefully tomorrow?”

I heard the trace of uncertainty in his voice, and the embarrassment over my reaction hit me head-on. Here was a guy I was moderately attracted to, that I should want to make out with—that I
did
want to make out with—and I seized up for God’s sake.

“I can try to take things slower...” he said. However his half-hearted shrug and bold expression didn’t instill much confidence in me.

“If I can make it, it will have to be later since I have to work after church.”

Albert nodded, the corners of his lips twitching as his gaze dipped to my boots.

“I really am just a hokey farm boy,” I said, managing to inflect a tease into my voice.

His hands dunked into his back pockets as he turned to go. “Nah, hokey farm boys don’t kiss like that.”

I watched him walk across the parking lot to where Gavin and Gary waited next to Gavin’s black Subaru. Albert shrugged, his shoulders slumping as he crawled into the back. Gary glanced at me, his eyes laced with sympathy. I turned away and climbed into the truck feeling like a project they had taken on. “
Let’s save Gabe from himself
.” Only I didn’t need to be saved. I was doing fine.

Turning the key to auxiliary, the dash lights illuminated the gunk stuck to my fingers, and now the steering wheel. Reaching over, I flicked the latch on the glovebox with my pinky—the least scungy of my digits—and promptly tore half my nail off.

“Dammit.” I shoved the stinging finger in my mouth. The acrid taste of road grime had me yanking it back out and reaching for the napkins that had been my original goal before the latch tried to declaw me.

I stopped in mid-reach, my eyes widening on the EpiPen and orange bandana that had popped out from the glovebox. They lay forlornly on the passenger floor haloed by the single bulb inside the glovebox. Even hundreds of miles from here, Zane managed to chase my breath away. I didn’t even bother trying to catch it.

I stared at the items, fighting against a ridiculously strong desire to let a few pathetic tears flow. The night hadn’t been a loss, it hadn’t. But after that horrid reaction, I knew I wasn’t ready. I was still holding on to Zane, and I needed to let him go. I just didn’t know how.

A sharp rap on my window startled me back. I grabbed the napkins, and slapped the glovebox closed, casting the items into darkness. Gary’s face loomed on the other side of the glass. I rolled the window down.

“You having truck trouble?”

“No, I just tore my fingernail.” I thrust the bloody appendage into his face.

He jerked back, turning his head away. “Ew, that’s nasty.”

I pulled it away and jumbled a napkin around it. “Just wrapping it up, then I’m headed home.”

“Kay, just wanted to make sure you were good.”

I went to rub my forehead, then stopped midway, remembering the grease on my fingers. “I’m fine.” I was fine. I was. And if I kept telling myself that, maybe I would be.

“I’m staying with Gavin tonight, so...I probably won’t make it to church.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, and he smirked back. “Well, have fun, and I’ll, ah, call you tomorrow when I’m almost done.”

“Cool. Cause Al, he really digs you, you know.”

I looked at the blood seeping through the napkin, nodding faintly. “I know.” I latched onto the key, offered Gary a smile, then fired up the diesel. Grinning, he pounded on the metal roof before jogging back to Gavin’s car idling behind the truck.

Quickly illuminated flashes of orange taunted me all the way home. I left those little parts of Zane where they had landed, and headed into the dark house, thankful my folks were already asleep.

For the first time since he left I dreamt of black hair, tattoos, pale skin, and beautiful blue eyes. When I woke, my eyes were swollen, my pillow damp, and somewhere through the night, the anger that had been my companion fled, leaving me hollow.

*

On the kitchen table sat Mom’s token dozen oatmeal raisin cookies for Smitty. The first batch had gone over with me the first day I began doing his household chores, and Smitty had almost cried over the fact someone—anyone—had thought enough about him to
bake
. That’s all it took for Mom to make sure he had fresh cookies every Sunday.

I carefully situated Mom’s china plate, proudly holding the lumpy cookies, on the passenger seat. She had this thing about presentation, and no matter what I said, I couldn’t seem to get through her head Smitty wouldn’t know the difference between her good China and our everyday stoneware.

Then in an attempt to ignore the reminders Zane had left so carelessly behind, I tossed a flannel shirt I had behind the seat over them. For some stupid reason I couldn’t touch them—not yet.

On the short drive to church I couldn’t stop myself from replaying the events of last night; my attraction to Albert, the ease with which I had laughed with him, then my bizarre response to his kiss—similar to my reaction with Amy, yet different. Although I had locked up, the fear hadn’t been as prevalent, and the nauseating repulsion I had encountered in that rec room, mostly aimed at myself, hadn’t even been an afterthought last night. I could run it through my head a thousand times, but I still wouldn’t understand why Albert elicited that response when Zane never had.

Sighing, I glanced at the black checked shirt, and what it covered. I caught my father’s approach, and forced a bright face as I stepped from the truck.

He brushed his hands across my shoulders. “This suit almost doesn’t fit you anymore with all the work you’ve been doing. How was the date?”

“It was fine.” At Dad’s raised eyebrow, I elaborated enough to appease his curiosity. “He’s nice—and before you embarrass yourself, yes, he’s attractive.”

“Hm, fine, nice, attractive. Doesn’t sound very promising.”

“It was a first date, what do you expect? Actually, I’m seeing him again tonight.”
Maybe
.

Dad’s eyebrows rose, then he grinned and took hold of my shoulders, turning me. “You better go tell your mother before she breaks a finger.” He let me go with a gentle shove. I spotted my mother alternating between wringing her hands, and worrying her gold cross around her neck.

Mom, in her continuing research, had recently discovered many gay couples turned to surrogacy as a means to have a family. So, of course when she found out I had a date she had just about squealed, asking me all kinds of questions I wasn’t about to ask anyone on a first date. No way was the topic of whether a guy wanted kids or not even a conversation consideration.

*

I hesitated for a second, as I always did, the key Smitty had given me trembling between my fingers. Ruger’s plaintive baying remained at the other end of the house, telling me he was safely ensconced in Smitty’s bedroom.

Once inside I dumped the cookies into a container, snapped the lid on, then set them on the table where Smitty would find them. God forbid I should ever forget them, I was pretty sure I’d never hear the end of it. Speaking of...

“
Ruger
, quiet down.” It wasn’t like him to be so incessant. He was pretty smart for a dog, and from the third visit on he seemed to recognize my truck, barking until the door closed. Normally, once he was sure it was me, he let out a final few whines before quieting down for the remainder of my stay.

He let out his few whines upon hearing my voice, then the yapping continued at what seemed a higher, and more annoying pitch. I opened the front door expecting to find someone in the driveway, but my truck stood alone. A few thumps emanated from Smitty’s bedroom, then a yelp, followed by what could only be called canine shrieking.

I walked down the hall to Smitty’s heavy bedroom door. “Ruger, quiet!” The racket stopped for a millisecond, then the shrieking continued at a deafening level. It sounded like he was tearing the room apart. I banged on the door, but this time he failed to listen. Crap. I just knew I was going to have to open the door and find out what mischief he had gotten to.

The house, although built incredibly sturdy, suffered from dry rot in several areas. The whole upstairs was blocked off because the floors were in need of replacement, and deemed unsafe. There were a few spots here on the main floor that I avoided because they crackled when you stepped on them. What if Ruger were stuck in the floor? And if that were the case, how the hell would I get him out?

Ruger’s cries reached a whole new level of panic. So, without further consideration for my own life, I braced myself and opened the door. The overpowering smell of dog and liniment made my eyes water, and nose wrinkle.

“How the hell did you do that?” Ruger’s cries broke down to pleading whines when he saw me, his expression a mix of terror and relief. I assessed the situation for a moment, wondering how the heck I was going to get his mangled rear paw out of the bedspring it was tangled in without him biting me. Ruger barked, sending me crashing into the door that had swung shut behind me. Panting heavily, his huge tongue covered in white froth, he looked at his leg twisted through the sturdy old spring, then back at me.

“I can do this...just give me a second.” I drug my fingers through my hair as I worked out the best course of action—one that I would hopefully live through. Firstly the mattress had to come off. His leg was bent at an odd angle, and unless I wanted to pick him up—
which I definitely did not
—the box spring needed to be tipped up in order for his leg to be in a normal position.

My fear of the very near future had my adrenaline kicking into overdrive, so it only took me a minute or two to drag the mattress off, and lean it against the tan wall on the opposite side of the bed from Ruger.

“Hold on, Ruger. This might hurt a bit.” Tipping up the old spring unit, I was careful not to let it slide. Even so, believing he could get free once his leg was straight, Ruger let out a few kicks which brought on a whole new series of canine cries. Gently, I leaned the iron frame against the nightstand, then quickly moved the other nightstand against it. Shaking it lightly, I decided it would have to do, hoping the heavy thing didn’t fall and knock us both out.

Ruger looked at me, his big brown orbs pleading. I gazed back at him, sweating and completely terrified.

I crept forward. “This is for your own good, so please,
please
don’t bit me.” His two middle toes were curved around a coil, and trapped by two separate wires. I was sure they were broken, but on the positive side—if there was a positive—there weren’t any bones showing through the red hamburgered flesh squelched around the sturdy spring.