If he ended up having to drive in the dark, with deer and antelope a potential hazard on the road, then that was his own damn fault.
He rounded the curve after Hawk Springs, where the rocks jutted up from the hard ground like fingers reaching for the sky, just as the sun hit the edges of the mountains, turning the sun into arrows of piercing light. Before him, the land swept low, racing to meet those mountains, racing to meet the dark.
Just as he might have put his foot on the gas to go ninety, he saw blinking headlights, as if someone coming east was trying to warn him of a potential accident. A flatbed truck on its side, perhaps, or a load of cattle in an eighteen-wheeler with a flat tire.
He slowed, trying to focus among the last strings of glare from the sunset that glistened on broken roadside grasses. Then he heard a truck’s horn blaring. Saw the truck racing at him. Saw the truck screech to a halt, planting itself sideways across the two-lane blacktop road, completely blocking his path.
What was some asshole up to?
He stopped the truck, the engine still running in case he needed a quick getaway. As he got out and stood on the road, he lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the sun’s last flint-edged rays.
His intention was to give whoever was behind the wheel of the other truck a piece of his mind, and when someone barreled into him, he grabbed at them instinctively, only to find himself with an armful of Kell, breathless, those green eyes so earnest as they looked up at him.
“What the hell?” he asked, not knowing how to focus the question any clearer than that.
“We came to join you,” said Kell. There was a bit of laughter in his eyes, and he wasn’t letting go. Was, in fact, moving closer, as if there wasn’t a whole host of other folks tumbling out of the trucked of the sideways-parked truck.
“We heard there was beer,” said one, who turned out to be Jonah, walking to the passenger side of Marston’s truck. “And rum.” He reached in and pulled out the fifth of rum. “But this stuff is crap.”
“Good thing we brought our own.”
Someone bumped into him, the cloud cover shifting to allow him to see properly without the glare, that it was Duane, carrying two six-packs of, yes, Outlaw Pale.
“We should park these off of the road,” said Gabe.
Without asking, he clambered into Marston’s truck, and together, he and Wayne, who was smirking in the driver’s seat of the other truck, maneuvered the trucks side by side, safely off the road. Blaze and Royce opened the tailgates and pulled out some lawn chairs and snapped them open. And suddenly, in the midst of the pinking sky was an array of places to sit.
“I don’t get it,” Marston said, as Kell dragged him to sit on one of the tailgates and wiggled to sit beside him.
“We’ve come to help drink your beer,” said Kell, as he accepted a newly opened frosty bottle of the Outlaw Pale.
“I will take the shitty beer, if you please,” Duane was saying, reaching for one of the bodega-bought six-packs. “You fuckers can have the fancy beer if I can have all this.”
“Three maximum, please,” said Gabe. “We’ve got work to do tomorrow and we don’t want to fall behind schedule.”
Duane and Tyson waggled their heads, making fun of Gabe, as if they thought he wouldn’t notice. But obediently, they split one of the six-packs of bodega beer between them and settled into two of the lawn chairs.
Meanwhile, Gabe and Blaze took the remaining spots on the tailgate with Marston and Kell, and Royce and Jonah took the other two lawn chairs. Gordy and Wayne took the other tailgate and, as if on signal, everyone took a good long swig of their beers, and sighed in unison and watched the clouds shift from pink to orange.
Marston, leaving his beer, surely a truly delicious beer, untouched, bent closer to Kell. They had zero privacy, but in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Kell half whispered. He took a small sip of beer, and though his gaze was on the sunset, his face aglow with sky-pink and fiery orange, his attention was all on Marston. “I wasn’t trying to lie or anything.”
“I know.” Marston thought maybe Kell didn’t hear him, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “It happened so fast. I let my wants outweigh what you needed. I only wanted to make you happy and didn’t think—”
“Stop.” Kell held up his hand, palm out, a slight shake to his head. “You can’t do that. Blame yourself like that. I don’t know much, but even I know that. You didn’t know. Now you do.”
He looked up at Marston, his green eyes earnest, a wise glow shining from them, an earnest smile showing white teeth. The flush of youth and health and grace that left Marston breathless.
“My favorite flower is—well, I like roses and stargazer lilies, and my favorite candy is Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups,” said Kell, sounding a little breathless himself. “And I love onion sandwiches, though I’ve only had them the one time.”
He paused to take a swig of his beer, never looking away from Marston, holding his attention as firmly as if he’d skillfully tied a rope around Marston’s heart. Then Kell laughed, looking abashed and away at the sunset, now glowing bright orange, setting everything on fire.
Marston knew that he’d been given a second chance, and while the universe didn’t have an endless supply, maybe a good handful was all he needed.
He wanted to remember this night forever, undulled by alcohol and early morning regret, but the long draw or two he took of his beer certainly tasted fine. And the sunset was fine, orange darkening to purple-blue, the purple so intense it looked as though it had been painted by a generous and skillful hand. Clouds stretched left to right, darkening at their outer edges, melting in the middle as the sun sank below the long edge of the back ridge with a silent sigh.
Half expecting that they would all pack up and head back to the valley at that point, he waited a heartbeat and realized that nobody was moving. Rather, they slouched in their seats and tipped their heads back as if waiting for the darkness to unfurl itself above them in an endless blue-black cape.
