“It’s not… it’s not that easy. He’s all the way up in Florence. With his folks.”
“Florence? As in Florence, Italy?” Colton tipped his chin, that defiant look on his face, his hazel eyes fiery.
“No, it’s a small town in Oregon just outside of…”
“Of what?” Silence stretched out between them, that last question lingering, poking at him, pulling at his heart. “Of what, Hank?” Colton repeated patiently. Tenderly, even.
“Of Eugene…” Hank whispered, swallowing around the lump building in his throat.
“What now?” Colton frowned.
“Eugene,” Hank repeated, closing his eyes.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Hank! Eugene?Really?” He didn’t have to look at his nephew to know that Colton was stunned. Astonishment was seeping from his voice.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, blinking his eyes, meeting Colton’s baffled gaze. “Yeah.” He shrugged.
“Look, it seems to me the universe is tryin’ to tell ya somethin’, old man. And when it does, you better damn well listen, okay?”
“Since when did you become all spiritual and stuff?” Hank countered.
“This ain’t got nothin’ to do with spirituality, Hank. This is common sense.”
“Common sense, huh?”
“Yep. What are ya now? Fifty-nine, right?” Colton took a step closer.
“Yeah.”
“So, you’ve got maybe twenty-somethin’ years left in ya. Thirty if ya lucky, right?” Colton had come to stand right in front of him, his massive body towering over Hank, his chiseled jaw clenching and unclenching. Damn, the kid could look mean when, in reality, he was just as kindhearted as his sidekick, Louis.
Colton held both of his hands up between them, weighing each back and forth, the blue canvas coveralls stretching across his chest, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his colorful tattoos. The imprint on his left hand, where the silver band usually was, reminding Hank that his nephew had managed to move on from his grief. Had managed to feel worthy of Henry’s love. When in the shop, the unpretentious ring hung from a simple silver chain around his broad neck, next to the dog tag that had belonged to his fallen army buddy, Will.
“So, on one side, you’ve got stubborn ol’ man spending the next twenty-somethin’ years alone in a secluded cabin in small-town Nebraska.” Colton weighed his right hand up and down between them. “Day in and day out, the same goddamn deal. Lunch at Til’s, cards with Vern, and dinner at my place on Saturdays.” Colton squinted at him, making sure that Hank was following. “And then, here,” Colton moved his left hand, cupping it, Hank’s imaginary future dwelling in his palm, “you’ve gota cute guy, twenty-somethin’ years your junior, who wants to be with ya for some unknown reason. Who wants to stay in God-forsaken Nebraska when he could be lying on a beach somewhere, a hot young doctor at his side, sippin’ a margarita or some shit like that. He’d rather be sharing a lukewarm no-brand beer with you on your run-down porch, freezin’ his ass off than tanning on the deck of some fancy ocean-view villa.”
Hank took in his nephew, his mouth slightly agape. Half the words spilling from Colton’s mouth, he’d never imagined him saying. There was a seriousness in his eyes that left Hank speechless. His gaze zeroed in on Colton’s hands, still lifted between them, two versions of his future presented before him. Was it really that easy? Could life really be that simple? A or B? Finn or no Finn?
“It ain’t rocket science,” Colton added, almost as if he’d become a mind reader now, too. Some Nebraskan oracle, perhaps. “It’s a simple question, Uncle. Do you want him or dontcha?”
“It’s not that simple,” Hank countered, but he felt himself quickly deflating, his defiance dissipating. “What if he’s changed his mind? What if he doesn’t want me? This?” He raised his arms, pointing around at the shop.
“Are ya daft? Do you live in an alternate reality from the rest of us?” Colton paused. “Or have ya just given up? Because if you have, then that’s fair. That’s your right. To give up.”
“I haven’t,” Hank whispered. “But… I’m too old for him?”
“Bullshit,” Colton blurted, surprising the both of them, a blush creeping slowly across his cheeks. “You ain’t hardly the first man in history to fall for someone younger than yourself. I’ve heard it can happen,” he smiled.
“A lot younger,” Hank spoke. “As in twenty-three years younger. What do ya think his folks are gonna think when their kid shows up with a guy their age?” He could just imagine it.
“So that’s your main concern?” Colton narrowed his eyes. “His age? And what his folks are gonna think?” Hank shrugged because when Colton put it like that, it did sound kind of ridiculous. That one would give up on a relationship, on a future with someone, because of a difference in age. After all, Finn hadn’t seemed to mind. It wasn’t like he’d had any complaints. On the contrary. They’d seemed to balance each other out pretty darn well. Sighing, Hank shook his head. “It’s too late now anyway,” he mumbled. “Not up to me.”
“Not up to you? Whatcha mean, not up to you? Last time I checked, he left his address with Henry.” Hank looked up hastily, Colton’s steady gaze meeting his challengingly. “Oh, I know about that. My man tells me everythin’,” he smirked. “Now, if that ain’t a hint, I don’t know what is. What are you waitin’ for? A bulletin from the goddamn Pope?”
“I don’t know…” He’d never heard his nephew speak like this. So adamant, so sure of himself and the way he saw the world. Hank felt the last remnants of resistance evaporating, the exhaustion of the past sleepless nights catching up with him. The truth was, he was miserable without Finn. He missed him. And why wouldn’t he? He’d done the one thing that he’d thought was never going to happen again. He’d fallen in love. He loved Finn. Of course he did. And Finn had told him he loved him too, in his letter, hadn’t he?
“Well, then,” Colton clapped his hands before reaching out, placing a solid hand on Hank’s left shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. He was such a strong man, his nephew. So much stronger than when he’d first come home.Compassion has made him strong. Love.Tears pressed behind his lids, his eyes stinging. “1,373,” Colton spoke matter-of-factly.
“What?” Hank looked up, meeting Colton’s gaze, a soft smile curling at the corner of his nephew’s mouth, that dimple winking at him.
