Page 110 of Torch Songs

“So,” Tad said, taking his hand and brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Everybody’s dying of suspense, you know. What’d they name her?”

Guthrie chuckled. “Well, they joked about naming her Lumpy Space Princess, but in the end, they went with Emmeline Glory.”

Tad made a happy sound. “Aw… that’s sweet. That’s keeping the family tradition right there, right? Olivia, Christiana—all those royal sounding girl’s names for these down-to-earth, strong women. I love it.”

Guthrie made a “hmm” sound in his throat. “You gonna tell me how the rest of wedding went?” he asked. “After you feed me and before I pass out, of course.”

“Sure,” Tad said. “You gonna tell me how all of that—” He gestured with the handnotlaced together with Guthrie’s toward the family in the hospital room. “—went?”

“Sure,” Guthrie said. “There was some yelling, some crying, and a long list of fuckers that I promised to kill for Olivia, but she told me I could take it all back after the baby was born.”

Tad chuckled, and together they turned toward the exit, hand in hand. “I look forward to hearing that,” he said. “I need to kiss up to the boss, after all, and knowing his stepdaughter’s enemies is a good way to do it.”

“Sure,” Guthrie acknowledged, “but you’re gonna have to find the people who invented stirrups on the beds and the people who said ice chips only and the people who invented the portable IV—because they are all fuckers and need to be stopped.”

Tad’s laughter accompanied them out of the hospital and into long shadows of early evening. Guthrie was suddenly looking forward to dinner in a hotel room and the sharing of stories as much as he usually looked forward to sex.

That alone was a kind of magic he hadn’t been sure existed.

“YOU DOINGbetter?” Jock asked as Guthrie pulled his truck up the drive the next afternoon.

“Yeah,” Guthrie said with a sigh. Tad and April had gone back with Chris and Laura, staying long enough to visit Olivia on their way out of town and eat brunch with the family. Guthrie had felt his desertion of Jock keenly, and while his heart was stronger, more ready to see this bullshit through to the end, he resented missing out on those things, and on the ride home with Tad.

And on the time he wanted to be spending with him now.

“Kenny told me your guy seemed okay,” Jock said, sounding conciliatory. “Someday, you know, maybe I… maybe you wouldn’t be too embarrassed for me to meet him.”

Guthrie swallowed. “You can’t use some words around him,” he cautioned. “And you gotta talk about April like she’s a queen. I mean,allwomen, really, Jock, but, you know.”

“Don’t be crude about your guy’s sister,” Jock said dutifully, and then he gave a hopeful smile. “I’d… I mean, maybe someday, when this is….” His voice dropped, and he glanced around theyard and the house, which showed a definite improvement from their efforts this last month. “When the house is finished,” he said, and then sighed. “When your daddy’s not here to pollute the place.”

“I’d be honored,” Guthrie said. “Now I’m sure you need a break yourself, right?”

Jock shrugged. “I got my girl to help me out, and Kenny Wilson came by too. I ain’t been too alone these last few days. And you look better, boy. I was afraid you were gonna get arrested for killing a guy who’s gonna be dead in a month, and that’d be no good. So yeah. Come help me give the old bastard his bath and his dinner, and we can have a beer and you can tell me all about it.”

Guthrie lit up. “I’m telling you,” he said proudly, “it was a bigger adventure than you think.”

Highway Runs

THE CATSwere the last things to put in the SUV.

After the wedding, August sped by. Tad and Chris had finished their workload with SAC PD and had, with little fanfare, resigned. Chris had been well-respected, but Tad wanted to think their farewell bash hadn’t been all riding on his partner’s coattails—their cake had been fashioned like a gravel pit, with two tiny plastic figures in suits at the bottom screaming, “Take us back!”

They’d both gotten a little drunk, and Laura had picked them up to take them home. Tad had rolled into the apartment saying, “Guthrie, you’ll never believe what Chris said—” only to realize that Guthrie wasn’t there yet. That he’d be relocating his entire life up in Colton and the most important person in it would still be missing.

April had found him collapsed on the couch the next morning, his cheeks still wet from his boozy cry.

God, he missed Guthrie.

Their communication had been somewhat less worrisome since their long talk in the hotel room that night, but Tad still knew he was leaving a lot out.

He even knew why. Some of it wasn’t even “My life sucks right now, and I’m trying to spare you.” Some of it was “My life sucks right now, and I want to concentrate on the happy when I’m talking to you.”

Tad got that—but he absolutely hated the thought that Guthrie was suffering, was in pain, and he didn’t want to tell Tad.

But finally he trusted that Guthriewouldtell him before things got so bad he felt compelled to go out drinking in a place that wanted to kill him just for breathing.

Although he trusted Guthrie when he said that wasn’t his intention.

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