that had gone down on the boat just weeks ago. Nick’s gut sometimes twisted, remembering that he’d pulled a guy with Charlie’s morals into a mess that ended up close to murder. Does Charlie still have nightmares? At least he didn’t have to shoot anyone. Sometimes he thought there were new shadows in Charlie’s eyes, but then other times there weren’t, and Charlie was dealing with enough other shit that it might not all be Nick’s fault. “He’s still set on moving down with us. He still gets on my case. I think he’s fine.”
“And are you fine?” Brian’s voice softened.
“Sure. Why?”
“You haven’t said why you called.”
“I can’t just want to chat with my boyfriend?” That word still sat oddly on his tongue, but he was coming to like the taste of it.
“Of course you can.” Brian’s tone deepened. “Should I tell you what I was thinking about this morning? In bed?”
Nick choked. How Brian managed to be so innocent-seeming and so fucking sexy at the same time was a mystery, but right now, Charlie was due back any moment with crullers and coffee. “Later. I’ll call you again tonight.”
“Yeah. Do that.”
“Okay.” There was a moment of silence between them, as he listened to Brian breathe.
“Nick? Is there anything else?”
He couldn’t put it into words, the unsettled emptiness inside him, the shock of finding Ariana’s hair clip, the way life seemed out of control, almost like when he was a kid. Here he was, moving again, although with far more than one trash bag of stuff. The future was open wide, his life rearranged. At least this time, there’s a great reason to go. “Um. Yeah, we’ll be heading out soon. Well, in an hour or two.” There was still some cleaning to do. “I’ll text when we get on the road.”
“Drive safe. I can’t wait.”
Me neither. A rush of neediness took him by surprise. I miss you. He faked a laugh. “I won’t be doing any drag racing with a rental truck.”
“I miss you.”
Brian always had been better at putting what he felt in words. “Yeah, me too.” He saw his car pull into the drive. “Later.” Stuffing the phone into his pocket, he jumped down from the truck.
Charlie parked and waved him toward the passenger side. “Carry the goodies, slave. I bought heaps. Travel food.”
“Slave yourself.” He opened the door to lift out the warm cups and bags. “God, that smells good.” His stomach was settling just from the rich scents of coffee and pastry. Maybe that was all this hollowness was— maybe he needed to eat. “Come on. Some sugar, some caffeine, a little Clorox, and we’ll be ready to hit the road.”
****
Brian’s morning had begun excellently with Nick’s phone call, but slid downhill to shoveling sheep manure and cleaning the goat pen. Still, that was farming for you. He kept Luger tied up close by, reassured by the dog’s lazy dozing in the sun, and by midmorning, his shoulders were pleasantly aching from the hard work.
He was daydreaming absently about Nick and a glass of lemonade when Luger suddenly jumped up and paced to the end of his leash to stare down the drive. A moment later, a sheriff’s car came up the lane and into the yard. Brian froze with his shovel full of goat poop.
Yasmin asked them to come check out the damage. Knowing that didn’t keep his heart from racing. Stay calm around cops, but not too calm. Look natural. Should I look over there, or ignore them? Probably ignoring would be even more suspicious. He stuck the shovel into the wheelbarrow and turned to watch, moving closer to Luger.
The woman who got out was tall and lean with weatherbeaten skin and very short, dark hair, perhaps in her forties, though he was a lousy judge of people’s ages. She closed the car door, tugged her utility belt straighter, and gave him a long look. Her eyes were hidden by mirror shades. His plan to look friendly and innocent felt like a mouse planning to bluff a hawk.
She walked toward him with long loose strides. “Hi there. Is Ms. Wydell around?”
Luger growled a low warning. Brian took hold of Luug’s collar and cleared his throat. “I think she’s in the house?”
The cop came a step closer. “We haven’t met. I’m Sheriff Gannet. You are…?”
“Bry. Brian. Brian Carlson.” At least his brain was in control enough not to say Kerr. “Hi.”