I didn’t usually share that detail with others, but Carson and I had been talking about enlisting earlier. And I trusted him on a level I didn’t yet entirely understand.
“I get that.” Carson’s ready agreement said that financial pressures on his single-parent household had likely been a part of his own decision. “No kidney transplant?”
“No. I wasn’t a good match, and neither were Mom’s siblings back in Oklahoma.” I swallowed hard, the memory of that bitter disappointment achingly fresh even twenty years later. “Then Mom got sicker and wasn’t a good candidate in any event.”
“That sucks.”
“Yep.” Time for a change in subject. I couldn’t dwell too long in the land of the past, or I might get lost there. “Think I’ll keep the truck name though. And I gotta admit this thing drives like a dream.”
“Decent shocks.” Carson allowed the topic change as I’d known he would. “Chevy rides good.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I forced a laugh at his teasing, pushing thoughts of my parents aside. “All the upgrades.”
“You like it.” Carson deployed the sort of sing-song voice kids on the playground used for crushes.
What I liked—far too much, actually—washim. Couldn’t say that, so I settled for the childish, “I don’t hate it.”
“Uh-huh.” Carson gave a knowing sniff before flipping on the radio. “Hundred new stations.”
“And somehow, you’re gonna find the country.” I let us drift along to the music until we were on state lands, bumping down a windy, gravel road. “Damn, it is a nice night.”
“Yep.” Carson lowered his window, and I did the same, so that the crisp night air and forest scents of dirt and pine could fill the truck. Above us, a canopy of stars hung, practically begging to be admired.
“Stars are out. Wanna take a look?” I asked as I pulled into a clearing. No other cars around. Far from the town’s light pollution. Fine place to stop.
“Sure.” Carson followed me to the back of the truck, where we perched on the tailgate. The very spiffy tailgate with a built-in step and auto-lowering feature. Somewhere, my father was grumbling about unnecessary upgrades.
“Comfy.” Carson stretched back to admire the sky, hands behind his head.
“Okay, the sprayed-in bed liner is pretty sweet,” I admitted as I did the same. Standing, I was decidedly taller, but lying back like this, our heads were at the same level. And much, much too close. I ran my hand down the slick black truck liner to distract myself from how Carson smelled like the ocean, despite the nearest one being thousands of miles away.
“Told you.” Carson chuckled, apparently nowhere near as troubled by our proximity. His elbow bumped mine. “Chevy rules.”
“You win.” I made an exaggerated noise of defeat that earned a laugh from Carson.
His laughter petered out as we took in the stars above us. The vast, inky sky was filled with glittering stars, bright as diamond chips, whole universes hanging over us.
“North Star.” Carson pointed. I made out the Big Dipper and Little Dipper, along with other constellations.
“It never stops to amaze me that these are the same stars everywhere.” I braced against the onslaught of memories. My grandfather had been the first to show me constellations, and later, my father on rare camping trips, and various Scout and 4-H leaders. I’d seen many a sky, but something about Southwest Colorado was special. “Used to make me homesick on deployment.”
“Me too.” Carson’s tone was equally wistful. “Nothing like Colorado.”
He gestured around us, a sweeping movement that brought him closer to my side, our arms brushing.
“Yeah. Can’t imagine living anywhere else.” I inhaled more of his ocean-like scent. Damn. I needed a distraction and quick. “What was your favorite duty station?”
“Virginia wasn’t bad.” Carson used an offhand tone. “But it’s not Colorado.”
“I feel that.” Homesickness had been a major reason why I’d processed out as soon as I was able to go on ready reserve and use my education benefits.
“At first…hated being back.” Carson shifted, rolling to one side. His expression was deeply thoughtful, as mysterious as the universes the stars could only hint at. “But right now…it’s good.”
“I’m glad.” And I was. Glad we were here. Glad I’d reached out, glad for this growing friendship, glad he’d found some measure of peace and happiness post-discharge. I wanted him to love being home for reasons best not considered right now.
I held his gaze, powerless to look away. The energy between us crackled, a cosmic event in its own right. A meteor could have landed next to the truck, and my attention wouldn’t have wavered from Carson. The slightest roll of my own, and we’d be face-to-face. A small arm stretch, and we’d be touching.
He didn’t move away, and his eyes never left mine.
