Colton leaned against the wooden surface of the door to the pantry, eyes shining with happiness and something else. Contentment perhaps. Henry felt it too. During their hike in the snow-covered woods, they’d talked about mundane things. They needed to get a Christmas ham and Colton still wanted to put up some extra Christmas lights on the front of Iris’ bungalow. Leaning against the sturdy trunk of a pine tree, Henry had glanced at Colton, eyes closed, and his face tilted towards the weak winter sun. Colton was beautiful as he stood there swaying slightly, claiming his place in the world.
Henry thought back to that first morning in the clinic when he’d met Colton. It seemed like a lifetime ago and not just a few months. So much had happened between them in such a short time. He felt grateful. Happy. Wrapped up in his own thoughts about this afternoon, he hadn’t realized that Colton stood right in front of him.
“Come here.” Colton pulled at Henry’s left elbow and drew him towards him. Wrapping his beefy arms around Henry’s waist, he buried his face in what Henry knew was Colton’s favorite spot. Right where his neck ended, and his collarbone began. The vibrations of Colton’s deep voice sent shivers through his body.
“It feels good to be a thirty-nine-year-old mechanic when I have a twenty-six-year-old gorgeous boyfriend with the juiciest ass this side of the Missouri.” Colton mumbled against his skin. “But you know what? It’ll feel even better once I get you out of all these layers of clothes and have you naked on my bed.” He was trailing kisses up and down Henry’s neck. Licking and biting. Henry felt himself harden as his lips found Colton’s in a sloppy kiss.
“I just need to check in with Gran,” Henry panted, not releasing Colton’s lips entirely.
“Huh?” Colton looked at him, the soft light from the winter sun spilling through the kitchen window, making his dark-brown hair appear almost auburn in places.
“I just need to call Gran. She has a delivery coming later. I just need to make sure when, so I’ll be home to help.” Henry pulled out his phone from his back pocket while adjusting himself with his other hand.
“Okay. I’ll just check the mail.” Colton placed a quick kiss to the top of Henry’s head and reached for the pile of letters on the kitchen counter.
Henry went into the adjoining living room and had just agreed to bring Colton over for dinner when he heard a loud crash from the kitchen. It sounded like glass splintering into a million pieces against a hard surface. Then Colton blew past him, grabbing his keys from the counter and flinging the front door open. Then, without as much as a word of explanation or a look in Henry’s direction, Colton stormed down the porch steps.
“Sorry, Gran. I gotta go. Something just came up.” Henry didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he chased after Colton, who was getting into the truck, a grim look on his face, hazel eyes almost black.
“Colton. Colton! Wait up. What happened?” But it was like speaking to a brick wall as the other man closed the door in his face and stared through the windshield at something in the distance. Lips sealed tight, fists clenching the steering wheel, knuckles white. Henry knocked on the side window and Colton turned his head in his direction, a numb look on his face as he rolled down the window. Henry reached out and placed his hand on Colton’s shoulder, however, he didn’t seem to notice the gesture. Instead, Colton started the engine and without even looking at Henry, he bit out, jaws clenched.
“Get out of the way, Henry.” Colton’s cold voice drifted through the open side window, hitting Henry in the face like a bucket of ice-cold water.
“Baby, what’s going on? What happened?” He reached for Colton’s face, trying to make him look at him. The sun had disappeared behind grey clouds heavy with snow, and Colton’s cheek felt cold to the touch. Pale. “Please, Colton. You’re scaring me,” he whispered, his breath lingering in the space between them.
“Henry, get out of my way!” Colton whisper yelled as he shrugged off Henry’s hand. His eyes were wild, unrecognizable almost.
“Baby, please…” Henry tried but he was interrupted by Colton’s solid hand on his chest, pushing him away from the car. Then the engine roared angrily, and the truck took off down the gravel driveway, pebbles sounding like glass being crushed beneath the tires.
“Colton!” He yelled, breathing in the cold winter air. “Colton!”
But the truck had already disappeared down the road, leaving him alone in the driveway. He waited for a while, somehow thinking that Colton would come back. It wasn’t until a layer of snowflakes had settled on his sweater that Henry awoke from his trancelike state and went inside. The air was milky white with heavy snowflakes and the wind had picked up. A suffocating tightness spread in his chest at the thought of Colton out there alone and upset.
Entering the empty house, Henry picked up his phone where he’d left it on the coffee table in the living room. Fingers shaking, he pulled up Hank’s number and it was only when Henry heard the familiar voice of the older man that the first tears escaped from the corners of his eyes. It was then, while Hank repeated his name for the second time, that he noticed the crumbled piece of paper abandoned on the linoleum kitchen floor, shards of broken glass surrounding it.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Colton
COLTON HAD NEVERbeen much of a drinker, but for the next three days he experienced the world through the bottom of a Maker’s Mark bottle. It had nearly broken him to drive away from Henry, but he’d been unable to deal with anyone in that moment. Even the man he was in love with. He’d locked himself up in a dingy, Western themed motel room ten miles or so outside Whitney.
When he’d taken off from Hank’s place, Colton hadn’t thought too hard about where he was going. He just needed to get away. To be alone. He could still hear Henry’s pleading voice, but it grew fainter with each pull on the whiskey bottle. Sip after sip he’d reached a numbness, followed by a temporary state of sweet oblivion until sleep finally pulled him under.
He dreamed of Reed. Of course, he did. They were in a corn field behind Reed’s folks’ house in Wyoming. Endless rows of clean linen blowing in the warm summer breeze in the back yard behind the small farmhouse. The scent of laundry detergent mixing with the soothing smell of warm apple pie spilling from the open kitchen window.
They were home on leave. Reed’s folks were always glad to see him. Always welcomed Colton into their modest home as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In a way it was. The soldiers returning home.
Only, Colton never went back home. He hadn’t been home once to see Walter since he’d left his childhood home at eighteen. Home had become something fleeting. Something temporary. A visit to an Army buddy and his family here and there. Christmas spent under the cold, bluish glow from the halogen lights in a dining hall somewhere in Yemen. New Year’s waiting in a terminal for the next transport out of some godforsaken place on earth using his duffel bag as a pillow on the naked concrete floor. And now, summer at Reed’s place.
In the dream, he was searching for Reed in the field behind the house. Every time he caught a glimpse of the worn Army jacket behind a corn row, it disappeared again.
“Don’t be late now, boys,” Reed’s mom had hollered after them when they’d stormed off into the all-consuming fields with the blistering sun burning down on their already tanned necks. “Don’t be late now, boys.”
Only, they weren’t boys anymore, were they? They were grown men. Years and years spent on one nameless battlefield after another and nothing but an entire map of scars and holes across their bodies to show for it. Thousands of miles under their boots. Blood on their hands. Sand in their hair. No matter how much you showered, the red sand of the desert clung to your hair days after you’d left. The desert took and took, but it never gave anything back in return except for sand and a trail of devastation and broken dreams.
In his dream, he’d yelled until his throat was raw and the sun disappeared behind the rows of corn. He eventually found Reed in the old barn next to the farmhouse. He was hanging from a wooden beam. Rope tight around his sun kissed neck. The purple bruising from the rope already replacing the golden color of his still warm skin. Blue eyes open, Colton’s friend stared into nothingness.
Unlike in the dream, Reed hadn’t hung himself. No, that’s not what the letter from Reed’s mom had said. He’d shot himself with his dad’s hunting rifle. Blown his brains out in his sad one-bedroom apartment in a run-down neighborhood in Casper, Wyoming. Only to be found when a neighbor had finally complained about the smell and the super had agreed to unlock the door to the apartment. Probably dead for a few weeks. That’s what the state coroner had told Reed’s mom.
