Caleb stood, still handsome, the extra few pounds around his middle notwithstanding. Frost peeked through the straight brown strands of his hair, and piercing green eyes contrasted sharply with pale skin. For a man who covered rodeos, he’d somehow managed to avoid any hint of a tan.
“Caleb, my man!” Killy pumped Caleb’s hand, wrapping his free hand around the back of the reporter’s. “Good to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Good to see you too. When you called me, I couldn’t believe it. How the hell are you?” Caleb raised a brow in Mike’s direction. “Who’s your friend?”
“Caleb, this here’s Mike. Mike, Caleb. I stole him from a cover band.” Killy nodded toward the closest of three beer mugs on the table. “Mine?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know what your friend might like, but I remember your favorites all right.” Caleb returned to his seat, Killy settling across from him and scooting over in the booth to allow Mike room.
A waitress hurried over, smile likely to give the sun a run for its money. “Hey, fellas, what can I get you?”
They hadn’t even had a chance to glance at the menu yet. Didn’t matter. Killy had a standing order. “T-bone, medium-well, fries.” He raised his handled beer mug in salute. “This’ll do me for a drink.”
“I’ll take the same, only make mine medium-rare.” Caleb handed their server his menu.
Mike opened his menu and promptly closed it again. “What he’s having.” He nodded toward Killian. It probably wasn’t often Mike found a steak on his plate. Lately, with Killian, he’d been eating bar food, sandwiches, and canned chili.
“I’ll be back in a flash,” the woman said, darting across the floor and through a pair of swinging doors.
“We’ve got at least twenty minutes,” Killy told Mike. He focused on Caleb. “How ya been?”
“Can’t complain. I’m still doing what I love, even if it doesn’t pay as well as I’d like.”
Soon fortune would smile on this man. “That might change when I finish.”
Caleb’s eyes grew wide. “You decided to get back to living?”
“Yeah.” Killy winced, recalling some of their past conversations. “You may now say, ‘I told you so.’”
“Would I do that?” Caleb mocked an affronted look, hand over his heart.
“In a flat minute. Anyway, you still doing that podcast thing?”
“Yes.”
“I want to give you enough material for three or four of them, letting the first lead up to the last. I want a record number of listeners for that episode, got it?” God, he’d rip the bandage off the wound with that one.
“What episode is that?”
Killy leaned in and whispered. Too many years of keeping himself to himself made sharing something personal hard. The story needed telling. “I’m going to blow what everyone thinks they know about the crash on its ass.”
Caleb gave an impression of a landed fish, opening and closing his mouth with nothing coming out. Almost worth the pain merely for the expression.
“I want to start with a segment on me still being alive, and why I hid.” Killy ticked off points on his fingers. “Next, I want to cover what was going on with the band. Then, what I’m planning for the future, where I’ll introduce Mike, here. He’s my new bassist. Last, I want to drop the bomb.” He’d need to check with his lawyers first, but no matter what they told him, he’d made up his mind.
Time for the world to know the truth.
“Oh, God. Are you kidding me? You’re serious. Aren’t you serious? Oh, God. Oh, God!” Caleb fanned his pale face with his hand, attention shifting from Killy to Mike and back again.
“If that’s not enough, go ahead and confirm the rumors that I’m gay.” Like his bastard of an ex-boyfriend hadn’t dragged his supposedly dead body kicking and screaming from the closet.
“Oh, my. Killy, are you sure you want me to tell your story? Something this big—”
“Will you try to screw me over?” Killy narrowed his eyes.
What little color Caleb had fled his face. “What? No!”
“Twist my words around?”
