Page 45 of Highway To Destiny

We got out of bed quietly, and I put my clothes on. Connor went to the bathroom and wrapped a towel around his waist. I figured he would probably go back to bed. They still had a couple of days in Vegas.

He walked me to the door and wrapped his arms around me from behind. I stopped short of placing my hand on the door handle and turned to face him, taking his face in my hands. The light in the room was low, sneaking through the curtain cracks. It wasn’t enough to see his perfect eyes, so I softly brought my lips to his. He kissed me back and lightly bit my lower lip. After the kiss, our foreheads came together.

“I’ll text you later today,” he whispered.

I kissed his nose and replied, "Okay. Now, remember what I said about Vegas money." With that, I opened the door, and light from the hall danced over his emerald eyes. When I looked back at him, he nodded in understanding. I walked down the hall to the elevator and felt his eyes follow me.

After a couple of hours, I was on the road out of Las Vegas and headed north. My freight broker had me going up through Nevada to Reno to pick up some large pallets to deliver to Salt Lake City. The drive through Nevada alone would take seven to eight hours, and then the time to pick up the freight would eat up the entire day. I figured I’d sleep at a rest area between Reno and Salt Lake City and then hit my drop-off destination tomorrow. I’d already calculated my time unless something unforeseen, such as traffic or weather, slowed me down.

I had loaded the large freight pallets in Reno and was making my way to Salt Lake City along I-80.My thoughts drifted to Connor, but that wasn’t new, I thought of him constantly. Many of those thoughts made driving uncomfortable at times when they brought my dick to life.

The earlier self-doubts dissipated as I decided not to worry about the future but about what we had now. I needed to remind myself to live in the moment. He texted me when I was on my way to Reno to make sure I stopped for food and rest. I liked that he cared for my well-being, which made me smile. I found he had similar traits to Claudia's when I was on long trips.

Connor and I wouldn’t see each other for over two months, and I’d notified my broker about needing to go through Oregon in June, whether it be through Portland or La Grande. My freight broker, Jim, and I had a long-lasting business relationship built on communication, trust, and loyalty that spanned over fifteen years. I knew we’d come up with a plan, and I’d let Connor know where and when I’d be passing through.

I’d hopedto swing by Crescent City before summer started, and I got lucky. It was the end of May, and I’d just driven up through California along Highway 101. I decided to spend a few days at my condo before heading up to Oregon. Jim, my freight broker, had procured me pickups and deliveries through Washington State and then back over through La Grande the second week of June.

I sent Connor a text.

Me: I hope you crush your finals that are coming up!

Connor: I have one paper to write and two finals. I’m so ready to be done.

Me: It’ll be over before you know it. Can’t wait to see you.

Connor: Vegas seems like an eternity ago.

Me: I know, but I’ll be coming through La Grande on June 9th to pick you up for your summer adventure, babe.

Connor: I’m more excited to see you.

Me:

I was just as excited.

When I got to Crescent City, I parked my rig and got to the condo quickly. It felt good to walk into the space I loved, yet it seemed somewhat foreign at the same time. It was empty, and it gave me a sense of not only loss but a yearning to fill it with love again.

Could Connor be a part of that yearning? Someone to come home to again? Where is my heart headed? Where is his heart headed?

Once I got settled, I started laundry and got myself cleaned up to head out for a beer and some dinner. Since I didn’t see Eli at his parking lot earlier, I suspected he was at the bar.

The tourist season hadn’t quite started—that came after Memorial Day. We didn’t get a lot of tourists since most people traveled through the central part of the state to head to the warmer climates of Los Angeles or San Diego. But our town was a haven for those who preferred the natural beauty of the scenic coastline and its proximity to Redwood National Park.

When I walked into Eli’s place, he had his back to me, standing behind the bar. He was busy at work on someone’s tab, fussing with the credit card reader. I heard him say, “Son of a bitch…motherfucker,” under his breath. I took a seat at the bar and huffed a small laugh. He hadn’t heard me or turned around.

He finally got the contraption to work, walked to the end of the bar, and handed it along with a pen to a gentleman in a pink polo shirt wearing very retro glasses. He was sitting next to another gentleman with a cropped beard and a fresh fade haircut. Both were handsome. The man with the pink shirt reached over, covered the other man’s hand, and held it there. I was suddenly filled with a sense of warmth as I witnessed their affection.

All at once, Eli’s booming voice broke my gaze from the two men. “Hey, when did you get into town? You didn’t text me you were coming.”

“Hey there,” I replied. “Taking a few days before I head up through Oregon and into Washington.” I shook his hand when he offered it.

I looked over at the two hipster-looking gentlemen who’d put their jackets on. Eli saw me glance at them. When the two walked by to leave, I gave them a smile with a chin lift, and they smiled in return.

Once they’d left the bar, Eli said, “Those two guys come through here every year about this time. One of them is a photographer who specializes in coastal scenic shots.” Eli pointed to two framed photos on his walls. “Matt took those photos almost three years ago. I wanted them for the bar, and now they always stop by when they pass through.”

“So, they’re a couple,” I commented.

“Yup, they’ve been married since it became legal, but they told me they’ve been together for over sixteen years. I think his husband said he was an ad executive at some agency.”

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