More wind rose, causing the bats to disperse into the shadowy darkness as the clouds pulled over the moon, their tumbled edges looking hand drawn and artistic. A mist built in the air, clinging to Marston’s skin, making him shiver.
“It’s starting to rain again, Royce,” said Marston, making his voice carry to the front of the group. “I think we should head back down.”
“Agreed,” said Royce. “You’re at the end there, so lead the way and we’ll follow. Then we’ll have hot cocoa in the mess tent.”
Amidst the murmurs of agreement and taking slow steps, Marston began the careful walk back down the trail and off the ridge. The rain made the gravel and slanted stones slick, so it was important to go slowly, however urgent the footsteps behind him.
As well, Kell’s fist was clutched into the folds of his poncho, as if Marston and only Marston was Kell’s ticket to safe passage back into the valley. If that was true, then Kell was Marston’s guide into a world full of feeling, of connection to another, the weight of Kell’s grip as solid as an anchor keeping him from floating adrift.
His mind was whirling as he paused at the bottom of the trail, just at the bridge where it crossed the river.
“Keep on, Marston,” said Royce, from the back of the line.
Kell’s grip shifted, and he clasped Marston’s hand, and for a moment, Marston held that hand right back, his heart beating into that moment, the two of them like innocent teenagers, smiling at each other beneath the rain-shrouded sky.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Duane, pushing past them, rudely, but not very roughly, for if he had, they might have fallen into the river and gotten soaked all over.
Marston shook his head and let Kell’s hand go, though they walked shoulder to shoulder through the woods and into the brightness of the auto-light as they neared the mess tent.
“Drape your ponchos, gentlemen,” said Royce as he went to the front and climbed the stairs. “I’ll make hot cocoa and we can talk about bats.”
As Royce divested himself of his rain-shiny poncho, he and Jonah bustled in the kitchen, talking about bats the whole while, and Gabe and Blaze got out some of the games from the little office area at the edge of the tent.
Soon there were ponchos draped everywhere, and ex-cons with mugs of delicious hot cocoa in their fists as they bent their heads and expended energy over Jenga and Dominos and a hotly discussed game of Clue, while the rain gusted a bit outside the mess tent and tugged at the green canvas.
As for Marston, he found himself sitting with Kell at the end of one of the long tables, setting up an old plastic game of backgammon. Only two could play, which suited him just fine. But did it suit Kell? Would he rather be with his fellows, joining in?
“You okay just playing this?” asked Marston, flicking his glance over the general gathering, which was nearer to the now-empty buffet line.
“Yeah, of course.” Kell took a careful sip of his cocoa and then, as his eyebrows flew up, he took a bigger drink. “Fucking Christ, this stuff is good.”
“I think Royce makes it from scratch.” Marston took a drink of his cocoa as well and as the sugar rushed through his system, warming him from the inside, he felt his shoulders relax.
“Finally a smile,” said Kell, smiling from behind his mug. “At least a little one.”
“A what?” asked Marston, totally confused.
“You have a very small smile,” said Kell, unabashed. “At least when you do smile.”
Kell’s attention was fully on him now, and it was as if they were alone together, rather than at the edges of a group of men enjoying some downtime in a canvas tent while the rain danced about the open entryway.
Marston always knew that if he made more of an effort, he could be a part of things, a part of a bigger group. But here, without any effort at all, they’d created their own group of two, and Kell had just pointed the spotlight at him, directly, with an energy Marston wasn’t used to.
“I—”
His brain stuttered on all the things he could say, and maybe should say.Sure, I smile.Or,I don’t find much to smile about. Anything to keep Kell’s inquiry at bay. Anything to keep himself safe, the way he usually would.
Instead, what came out was, “You make me smile. You make mefeellike smiling.”
Which felt a whole lot like he’d just peeled off his skin and left himself exposed to the elements and prepared himself to die.
Instead, what he received was the otherworldly glow in Kell’s green eyes, a flush on his face, and a whole force field of energy settling over him, a good energy that gave him a glimpse into how other people must feel pretty much most of the time. Surrounded by affection, acceptance, a sense of joy.
Which was, in its way, worse than just gawping after Kell’s sweet face and coltish grace—it was wanting the kind of connection that, however much he might enjoy it, would be gone at the end of summer.
“Um. Um.”
Now he was scrambling, reflexes looking for a way out, shoulders tightening. Kell was looking worried, like he felt he’d mis-stepped. And Marston was completely out of his depth, gaze casting about like he was looking for a lifeline. Then he saw Gabe, head back, his low laugh at something Blaze had said coming across the tables in the mess tent. What would Gabe do?
