Page 72 of Love in Mission City: The Shorts

Everett and August were university buddies—August in forestry management and Everett in pre-law.Their paths had diverged for a while, but both had wound up coming home to Mission City.Now August was an arborist, and Everett was making a name for himself as a lawyer.

I strode to the kitchen.If he wasn’t a drinker, I wasn’t going to give him booze.If he explicitly asked, I’d consider it.Instead, I yanked a bottle of diet cola from my fridge.I popped the top and took it back to the living room.

August’d pulled one of my throw pillows onto his lap and was hugging it as if it was a lifeline.

Hell, maybe it was.

After putting the cola on the side table by his hand, I dropped onto the couch next to him.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Neither could I.

Their parents passed some time ago.Now, my boss—my friend—was alone in the world.

Given my huge boisterous family and my hearty, healthy parents, I couldn’t relate.

Taking him in my arms to drive away some of the pain didn’t seem like a good idea, but I needed to form a connection.Slowly, with great care, I eased one of his hands from his death grip on my pillow.I laced our fingers, marveling at the contrast—his so dark and mine so fair.

Although I worked outside, I stayed pale.My grandmother’d had skin cancer when I was in my impressionable early twenties.She made me swear I’d wear sunscreen every day—especially when it became apparent I’d taken to the entire tree-trimming thing that horrified my family.

They wanted a successful professional.

I wanted to be out in nature.

August and I had that in common.Of course, being Black, he didn’t get much darker in the summer.But he allowed me to stick a hat on his head on the really sunny days.

“I’m sorry.”He turned his head and met my gaze.

Oh, the pain in those fathomlessly deep eyes.“You have nothing to apologize for.I’m glad you felt you could come here.I mean—”

“No, for this.”He leaned toward me.

He was giving me warning.

All I had to do was pull back and make some smart-aleck remark.Make a joke.Tell a funny anecdote about what Claudia had done today at work.

But I didn’t.I leaned toward him.My eyes drifted shut.

The first press of his lips was soft.

Soon, though, he grasped my cheek with his free hand.

When he nipped my lower lip, I opened up.

Eight years.For eight years, I’d pined for this untouchable man.For eight years, I believed he was straight.

More fool me.

He knew I was gay.

I’d come out of the closet at my high school graduation.

My parents hadn’t batted an eye, and my grandmother embraced me and told anyone who’d listen—and even those who didn’t want to hear.

On the job, I wore a pride baseball cap with a purple unicorn and the rainbow flag.I got dirty looks from some of our customers, but most were so grateful August’d fit them into the schedule that they weren’t willing to risk upsetting the man.

In eight years, we’d only been asked to leave a job site once.

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