“Shut up.”
I followed him into the house and he went to the kitchen, where he took the first aid kit out of the cabinet and cleaned up his smashed thumb.
I grimaced. “I’m pretty sure you’re gonna lose that nail.”
He examined it and shrugged. “At least I don’t have to have Woody drill a hole in it like last time.”
I made the vomit gesture, and Emery laughed, slapping me on the back. “That’s country living for you.”
He did a pretty decent job of wrapping his thumb, then reached into the refrigerator for his sweet tea, which should come with a warning label and a bucket of fluoride. He filled two large Rudy’s cups with ice, set them on the big kitchen island, poured them full of liquid gold, then returned the tea to the refrigerator.
He was oddly quiet as he did this, and when he slid the cup of ice-cold deliciousness in my direction, I decided to take control of the situation.
“Okay, Em. Spill it.”
Emery grimaced into his cup, took a swig, and set it down. “I feel like an idiot saying this, but that friend of Rowdy’s you met downtown?”
“Skylar?”
“Yeah, him. Woody wanted to know if you saw anything between him and Rowdy when he stayed over.”
I chuckled. “I had those two over for lunch and we chatted and had a great time. Seems like a good guy.”
“Oh.” Em tapped his fingertips together. “Woody said they were best friends, no benefits. Which made no sense to him.”
“Why not? He doesn’t think two gay guys can be best friends?” I asked, gesturing between the two of us.
Em rolled his eyes. “I think what made Woody hesitate was that he didn’t know Skylar. They’d never met until that moment, though Skylar had clearly heard of Woody.”
I thought back to our encounter at the bar, and then our lunch. “I’m not surprised. I got the sense that Rowdy keeps their friendship close to the vest.”
Em’s expression was careful. “Do you know why?”
I took a long pull of the tea and cursed. “This is the best fucking tea I’ve ever had. What is it about moving out to the country that made you the king of sweet tea?”
“It’s all in the wrist, baby,” Emery said, limping the wrist in question. “And stop avoiding my question.”
Emery knew me far too well to get one over on him, so I decided on honesty.
“I’m avoiding your question because I’ve been asked not to tell you something.” I tapped the island. “But...”
“But, what?”
“Remember how we went round and round about what was going on with Rowdy?”
“Yeah. Fat lot of good it did us.”
“Well, I learned an important detail that fills in a big missing piece. Not everything, but...”
“But?” Em asked, then leaned forward.
“Can you keep this to yourself, at least for now?”
Emery worried his lip for a moment, then nodded. “If it’s bad, though, I need to tell Woody.”
“It’s not bad,” I assured him. I tapped the island again, delaying a bit more before deciding to go in. “Are you aware that Rowdy spends a good deal of his time away—like, maybe almost all of it—doing volunteer work?”
Emery pulled back. “What do you mean?” he asked, a line appearing between his brows. “He gets laid and then...what? Volunteers at a shelter?”
