Ralph and his associates chuckled. “That’s great, but you’re talking to a loyal football fan. I heard you have exactly one in residence, and I think he’s just visiting.”
Silas.
I opened my mouth and closed it. If Silas were an ordinary neighbor, I’d leverage our friendship for all it was worth to impress the investor who was about to dump tens of millions of dollars into our venture…and inadvertently fund my children’s college funds.
But Silas wasn’t just anyone, and I’d never use our relationship for personal gain. Even though I knew he’d probably encourage it.
Hank had no such compunction. “Silas Anderson. Yeah! I’ve run into him at our local coffee shop a couple of times. Good guy. He’s a volunteer coach for our youth flag football team this summer.”
“No kidding? The parents must be going nuts.”
Hank shot an expectant glance my way. I was a parent. I had two kids who’d specifically opted to play for Wood Hollow rather than Fallbrook just to be coached by Silas, who happened to live next door to us. I should have had a big opinion about this.
But I kept my mouth shut.
“They sure are,” Hank assured him. “Wood Hollow has always had a strong football program. It would be fun to get a surge of professional players in town and maybe one day it’ll be our football town, much like Elmwood is our hockey town.”
“That would be fun. I’d love to shop at a Mill Depot and run into a football hero or two. Not to brag, but I played safety in high school and I wasn’t half bad. Our team made it to…”
I relaxed in my chair, glad that we’d progressed to the shooting-the-shit talking portion of what might have been a nerve-racking meeting. Reliving glory days was a good sign. And when Ralph thanked us for our time and advised us that the final contract would be sent to our law firm within twenty-four to forty-eight hours, I sighed in relief.
“We fucking did it! We did it!” Hank jumped to his feet, tossed his Stetson in the air, and whooped.
We embraced and exchanged bro punches, giddy with a big win for the town. Layla and Hank’s secretary, Emily, peeked into the office.
“Should I uncork the champagne?” Layla asked, fingers crossed.
“Hell, yes!” Hank hugged both women, then strode through the office and into the mill. Someone handed him a megaphone, and within a minute, the entire warehouse echoed with cheers and applause.
Mill Depot was coming soon.
This was a big win for Wood Hollow Mill. Huge. It was a well-conceived answer to corporate enterprise that would ensure Wood Hollow’s growth for decades to come. To be on the ground floor, making this happen was…well, it was my version of a Super Bowl.
Hank and I eventually returned to his office to iron out a list of to-dos.
“We can get those permits by next week,” I said, my gaze flitting from my boss to the photo of him and his husband, Denny on his desk.
They were grinning into the camera, two horses flanking them, and a dog at their feet. They looked happy and carefree, but I knew they’d fought for the life they’d created, balancing Denny’s NHL career in the public eye with a quieter existence in Vermont. And of course, I thought of Silas and found myself wishing for the impossible.
I’d love to have a photo of us on my desk. It would be nice to put an arm over his shoulder, kiss his cheek and not worry about scandalizing the kids, or hold his hand on Main Street because he was mine and I could. But that was a dream so far out of reach, it was unthinkable.
Silas belonged to another world entirely. And it wasn’t the kind of world that made space for a male lover who also happened to be a divorced dad with complications of his own.
Hank pulled the framed photo toward him and smiled before moving it to the other side of his monitor. “Great. Obviously, this is going to take a lot of teamwork to stay organized. Someone has to interface with Wood Hollow Construction, and you know Glen Ackerson and I don’t get along.”
“I can handle him.”
“Yeah, you’re good with assholes,” he huffed. “But you’ll still be running the mill. Is it too much? Probably. You’re going to need another assistant or?—”
“I’ll be fine. We’ll cross that bridge if we need to.”
Hank nodded. “Okay, but…you have a family to think about. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed. I know that on weeks you have the kids, the commute to Fallbrook can be rough.”
“Sometimes. But I’m not sorry I moved to Wood Hollow. I love it here, and so do they. We have a great house on the lake and?—”
“And a hot football player neighbor,” he intercepted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “How come you didn’t mention that you live next door to Silas fucking Anderson to Ralph? That would have scored a few points for us.”
“We didn’t need the points.”
