Forcing the thoughts away, Travis peered over at his husband. “I need you to do somethin’ else for me.”
“What’s that?” Gage smirked, his eyes slowly gliding down to Travis’s lap.
“Oh, that’s certainly on the agenda,” Travis assured him. “Tonight. Right now, I need you to have some papers drawn up.”
“For?”
Travis glanced back at the television. “If Mack does sell the bar, I fully intend to acquire it before it makes it to market. Put together a cash offer. Thirty percent higher than whatever they list it for. But you cut that fucking real estate asshole out of it.”
Gage nodded. “Will do. You know he might turn you down no matter what.”
“Might,” Travis agreed. “Highly unlikely, but possible.”
However, he hoped it never came to that.
Chapter Four
Friday, January 24, 2020
So much for proving himself, Mack thoughtas he sat in his living room on Friday afternoon, trying to find the energy to get off the couch so he could head up to the bar, knock out his opening checklist.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t find the energy to do that much, and considering that had been the only thing he’d had to look forward to these past few years, Mack wondered if this wasn’t the depression taking over his entire existence.
Not that he really needed to go to work. If he wanted, he could simply shut the place down and let it rot. Rather than go through the hassle of selling, he could simply strike a match and watch it burn. Daniel would be happy if he did. And the town … well, fuck them all. They didn’t understand why Mack had to do right by his son. Then again, most of them didn’t have children they’d let down in a remarkable way. But that was how Mack rolled. He could disappoint Daniel without much effort.
Sometimes he wondered if he was disappointing his son simply by breathing. Didn’t matter how many things Mack did, how many changes he made at Daniel’s request, there was always one more.
Dump the man you love.Check.
Don’t be gay.Facade in place.
Sell your house.Done. Don’t need it anyway.
Sell the bar.Sure, why the hell not?
Move to Austin.Of course.
Live under my thumb.Be happy to.
Fall in love with a woman. Yeah … no.
That wasn’t going to happen no matter what Daniel said, but there was no sense in beating a dead horse. As long as Mack pretended to put forth the effort, surely Daniel would be content.
Then again, that was what Mack had thought when he’d ended things with Jeff four years ago, eliminating every ounce of happiness from his life in an effort to appease the son who was embarrassed by him. He hadn’t hesitated to cut off his own nose to spite his face.
And here he was, gearing up to add to that list.
Chris, Daniel’s Realtor friend, had dropped by an hour ago with a buyer’s agreement and a sign for Mack’s yard, along with a list of things he suggested Mack do to make the house more appealing. The kid was off his fucking rocker if he thought Mack was going to replace the countertops in the kitchen. Or the appliances. Not for the lame-ass price he was going to get for the place. Shit, he’d probably make more if the house was leveled in a natural disaster.
But the sale of the house wasn’t what was bothering him. Truth was, he didn’t much give a damn anymore.
No, his irritation was with Jeff. For the first time since Christmas, the man hadn’t strong-armed him last night. He didn’t show up after closing and he didn’t wander over to Mack’s once he was home. The sheriff was MIA though he’d promised he was going to prove himself.
Staring at the crack in the wall—the one that had grown over the past few years as it worked its way down from the corner of the popcorn ceiling—Mack wondered at what point he’d started believing Jeff actually owed him anything. The man didn’t have to prove himself, because he’d never done anything wrong. Nothing except love Mack, that was.
Yet, from out of the bleak, dark hole in his chest, a bubble of hope had formed that night at the resort when Jeff had insisted they talk. The best Christmas present he’d gotten in years. Not much had been said that night, but it was one Mack would likely remember for the rest of his cold, lonely days. The ones he would spend sitting in some modern, white-walled tomb in Austin while he twiddled his fucking thumbs and waited for Daniel to confirm what he could have for dinner that night.
God, he was tired.
