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“You think they’re in there right now?” I asked, nodding toward it. “Mike and Cash?”

“Probably.” Westley glanced over at me, gauging something in my face. “You want to say hello to them?”

“No,” I said, quick enough that he huffed out a small laugh. “Not tonight. Just... wonderin’, is all.”

We walked on past the church, out toward the edge of town where the streetlights got sparser and the stars started showing up thicker overhead. The big open Texas sky stretched out over everything like it always did once you got far enough from the buildings. Westley’s hand found mine in the dark somewhere along the way, and neither of us said anything about it, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be walking down a dark road in Sagebrush holding hands with another man.

“You scared?” he asked after a while, his voice quieter now that the town had thinned out around us.

“‘Bout what specifically? I got a whole list these days.”

“‘Bout this.” He squeezed my hand a little. “Us. Bein’ seen like this.”

I thought about it for a second, really thought about it, instead of just answering the way I usually did with some deflection or a joke to steer us off the subject. “A little,” I admitted. “Not of you. Just... old habits, I guess. Spent so long makin’ sure nobody ever caught me lookin’ twice at another man, that walkin’ down the street holdin’ your hand feels like steppin’ off a cliff.”

“I can let go if you want.”

“No,” I said, tightening my grip instead. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just walked on beside me, and somewhere out past the last streetlight, where the dark folded in soft and close around us and the crickets sang loud enough to swallow up every other sound, I let myself believe that maybe stepping off that cliff wasn’t nearly as far a fall as I’d always imagined it would be.

Chapter 16

Westley

By the time I’d finished the lunch Dolly had packed me, the clouds had rolled in. The moment the rain began to fall, Mike was at the church doors, calling me inside.

“I’ve got plenty for you to do in here,” he said, giving me a pat on the shoulder. “No reason to get soaked.”

“I’m used to it,” I shrugged. “Ranch work doesn’t stop for a little rain.”

Mike just smiled. “This isn’t a ranch, Westley. You don’t have to work in a thunderstorm here.” He motioned for me to follow him. “I’ve got a few pews in the nave that are loose and needing shoring up.”

I followed him inside, glad enough for the excuse even if I hadn’t said as much. The nave was cool and dim, the rain drumming steady against the roof overhead, and somewhere a leak was already dripping into a bucket someone had set out near the back corner.

Mike handed me a ratchet and a box of bolts, showing me which pews had come loose from their anchors in the floor. It was easy work, the kind that let my mind wander while my hands stayed busy, and for a while I lost myself in it, tightening bolts and testing the give of old wood, letting the sound of the storm fill up the empty spaces in my head.

I was kneeling in the third pew from the front, elbow-deep in the workings of a bracket that had rusted half to nothing, when the doors at the back of the church banged open loud enough that I about knocked everything off the pew in front of me.

I looked up, and my stomach dropped straight through the floor.

My daddy stood there in the doorway, rain dripping off the brim of his hat, his jaw set in that same hard line I’d grown up learning to read like scripture. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there letting the door swing shut behind him, his eyes finding me across the empty pews.

“Mr. Gilderoy,” Mike said, straightening up from where he’d been going through hymnals a few rows back. His voice was even, friendly as ever, though I could hear the careful note underneath it. “Can I help you with something?”

“Just need a word with my son,” Daddy said, not taking his eyes off me. “Won’t take but a minute.”

Mike glanced at me, and I gave him a small nod, even though every part of me wanted to tell him to stay right where he was. He set the hymnals down anyway, giving my father a polite nod before heading toward the back office. I noticed he didn’t go far though, just far enough to give us the illusion of privacy.

I set the ratchet down and stood, wiping my hands on my jeans. “What do you want?”

“Wanted to see for myself if the rumors were true.” His eyes swept over me, over the church, like he was trying to work out how I’d ended up here of all places. “Rumors that my boy’s been reduced to sweepin’ floors for the preacher.”

“Ain’t sweepin’ floors,” I said. “Fixin’ pews. And it’s honest work, which is more than I can say for standin’ around judgin’ folks.”

His jaw tightened. “You should come home, Westley. This foolishness has gone on long enough.”

“It ain’t foolishness.”