Which begged the question: why was everybody here? Sure, to drink his beer so he didn’t have to drink it all himself. And to bring more beer, so there was enough to go around.
It was growing too quiet to ask Kell without everyone overhearing, and he didn’t want to disrupt the show as the stars started dancing into brightness, one by one, a glowing sprinkle that grew and grew, thickened in the middle by the Milky Way.
Then he heard Duane snort into his beer and recognized the sound from the imaginary cocktail party he thought he’d heard in the background when Kell had called him. Somehow, his absence had been noted, not just by Kell, but by everyone. And upon hearing Kell volunteer to drink half of Marston’s beer so he wouldn’t have to, so he wouldn’t have to drink alone—they must have all agreed to come. To rescue him.
With a shaky hand, he wiped at his mouth with a palm and when Kell nudged him with a shoulder in camaraderie, in understanding, Marston nudged him right back. He put the beer on the tailgate between his thigh and Gabe’s.
Maybe in the morning, Gabe might want a little chat with him about his proclivity to run, head ducked, a six-pack of beer under his arm, but for tonight, he was done drinking. Done running.
Slipping his arm around Kell’s shoulders in the growing darkness, he gave Kell a quick hug. A kiss to his temple.
None of these guys were blind to what had happened between him and Kell, but nobody, seriously nobody, seemed to care, beyond not liking the idea of him drinking himself sick because he’d screwed up.
“I’m rather fond—” He had to stop to swallow hard, his throat was so dry. “Of daisies. So bright and cheerful. And of onion sandwiches.” He paused, but he knew Kell was listening, that Kell knew that he was trying to open his heart, a rusty-hinged door that seemed to scream as he pulled on the handle. “And long-legged green-eyed boys.”
“That’s me, isn’t it.”
Marston could just about feel Kell’s smile where their shoulders brushed together.
“It is.”
Somehow, in spite of him, the magic of the ranch had transferred over to the valley, but in full force. He couldn’t hold on to it. The good times never lasted, but he could revel in what he had. A sky full of stars, friends all around, and a connection with someone, leaving him less alone in the universe.
As the darkness spread, a gentle cloak, the wind stirred in the grasses, and beyond the darkness, a trio of coyotes sang. Marston sighed, his arm around Kell, the warmth of Kell’s body up against his, a cocoon of two. He watched for shooting stars and when he found one, he made a wish on it with all his heart that it could stay like this, just like this, forever.
But eventually, Gabe must have checked his phone, a flash of light glowing in the darkness, and determined they needed to be heading back, for work in the morning awaited them.
“We could do this again, for sure,” he said, amidst the general complaints and Gordy’s pout as he helped put the folding chairs in the bed of one of the trucks.
There was room for everyone, but Marston reserved the passenger seat for Kell and Kell alone, with anyone else who wanted to piled in the back. Then he drove them back to the valley, trundling along behind the truck that Wayne drove, following the bright headlights, the red taillights, as they wended their way back to the valley.
The drive was quiet, Kell’s eyes shining in the lights of the dashboard.
“Did you wish on that shooting star?” asked Kell.
“Yes.” Then he ducked his chin, and flicked a glance over at Kell. “But maybe I already got my wish.”
What a sap he was. A stupid, besotted sap. But then, maybe Kell didn’t agree with him that he was stupid, or that it was stupid to be sappy, for he leaned close and brushed his head against Marston’s arm, affectionate, gentle, sending shivers up Marston’s spine.
“We’ll be home quick,” he said, wishing he could just speed ahead and pass the truck Wayne was driving. But that would be rude, and going faster meant that if you hit a deer, it would be that much more disastrous. So he didn’t.
But they were home soon enough, heading slowly down the switchbacks, trailing behind Wayne’s truck by a mere foot or two until finally both trucks pulled up in the parking lot.
As Marston turned off the engine and got out, the darkness was quiet and cool right up to the moment when everybody hopped out of the truck beds and made the auto-lights go on around the mess tent. Then there was a blare of light amidst the trees, the coolness seeming suffused with warmth.
“Marston,” said Gabe as he came up to the two of them, side by side. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yes?”
“Sure thing,” said Marston, making the words more cheerful than he felt.
Of course, he knew it could have been foretold the second he lit out that Gabe would want to discuss what had happened, and what they were going to do about it. At the very least, Marston, who was still just about perfectly sober, would not be nursing a hangover in the morning.
At the same time, if Gabe wanted to bring up any non-fraternization rules, then Marston could come fully armed because, for crying out loud, Blaze was standing right behind Gabe and plucking on his sleeve. Royce and Jonah were already walking into the darkness, in the direction of Royce’s tent, arm in arm, their gazes on each other as if they’d only just fallen in love.
“Before breakfast,” said Gabe. He pointed to the ground in front of the mess tent. “Right here.”
“You got it.”
Marston would be there.
