Page 122 of Torch Songs

“You know how I am,” she murmured. “We had a whole long talk about it.”

“That’s my super-princess,” Elton said back, and Larx glanced up from the yawning baby.

“Is there something here I should know about?”

Olivia glanced around the room, and seeing Tad coming from the hall said promptly, “Nope! How you doing, Tad?”

“Almost human,” Tad said. “Thanks for the use of the shower.”

“Aaron getsveryparticular about sweating in his khakis,” Larx said, shaking his head. “I try to tell him it’s no different than blue jeans and a button-down, but he begs to differ.”

“Well, we’re gonna make you work for it,” Olivia told him tartly. “You know the drill. Set the table.” Her eyes flickered to the clock. “Add a plate, okay?”

“For who?” Larx asked, and his eyes sharpened again, particularly at Olivia’s insouciant shrug.

“Kirby,” she said. “He might get off his shift early.” She met her father’s eyes then, and Tad recognized family eyeball semaphore when he saw it.

“All right,” he said, reaching into the cabinet for plates. “What’s going on? Nobody lets a rookie off an EMT shift early.”

“Nothing,” Olivia said, eyes wide-open and guileless.

Tad knew that expression. April used to wear it whenever she’d stolen his T-shirts from the laundry pile because she liked the way they fit better.

At that moment, Olivia cocked her head, and a coy smile played with her lips as the crunch of the gravel drive could be heard under large tires. “I think our guest is here now,” she said, and then she gave a gentle nod of the head. “Tad, do you want to go let him in?”

Tad was turning as she spoke, and part of him was thinking, “But I’d know the sound of his truck,” while the rest of him was hearing the strains of “Radar Love” pouring out of an open window.

The music shut off just as Tad flew out the door and into the yard.

He was climbing out of the door of a newish green Chevy, knapsack over his back. He paused for a moment to check his long hair in the side mirror, and Tad saw one shoulder dip a little in uncertainty, in nervousness. He was biting his lip as he turned toward the house, and in the fading twilight, Tad still saw the exact moment he caught sight of Tad, standing midway down the walk, staring at him in surprise and, Tad wasn’t ashamed to admit it, raw hunger.

“Dozer!” Aaron called sharply from inside the house, and Tad heard the door close behind him. The sound urged him forward down the walk to where Guthrie, wearing the now much-worn plaid flannel hoodie and faded-but-clean jeans, was approaching much too slowly.

“You’re here,” Tad said, eyes raking over him, taking in the thinness, the exhaustion behind the eyes, and most importantly, the shining, brilliant smile.

“You noticed,” Guthrie said, drawing nearer. “So’re you.”

“I was invited to dinner,” Tad told him irrelevantly. Oh God. He lookedso good.He took another tottering step, feeling hiseyes burn. He’d put this moment off in his head, not dwelling on how close they were, so afraid of the pain of one more day he hadn’t realized it was almost here.

“So was I,” Guthrie said, drawing close enough for Tad to pull in his body heat, the sweat from the drive, coffee on his breath, tiredness, and… joy. “They were going to give me directions home after dinner.”

“Don’t need directions,” Tad murmured, twining his arms around Guthrie’s neck. “You’re here. You’re home.”

“Only home I need,” Guthrie whispered back. The knapsack dropped to the ground, and he stepped into Tad’s body, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Tad’s.

For a moment, that was it, that breathless moment of remembering, growing accustomed to each other’s warm bodies, heartbeats, smells, and then Tad turned his head and took his mouth, warmed and found when he’d been lost, held and safe when he’d been alone under the pine trees, dreading the onset of night.

GUTHRIE WASsure he somehow owed Olivia an apology; he wasn’t sure how good his dinner conversation had been. He did recount the death of the old truck, and that had garnered some general laughter, and he’d thanked Olivia and Elton for the thousandth time.

Tad had chided her for keeping the secret of Guthrie’s arrival, but she’d laughingly said the real surprise had been Tad’s presence for dinner, so it wasn’t her fault. Aaron and Tad had talked at length about Caprica, the brewery with the open slots for live music. Almost like his very own personal agent, Tad had negotiated a three night a week stint for him, solo.

“What am I supposed to do with the rest of my time?” Guthrie asked.

“You’ll find something,” Tad said with assurance. “There’s businesses here or in Truckee. There’s even gigs in Truckee. You might not have to work another day job if you don’t want to.”

“Since your boyfriend’s health and dental program is as liberal as I could make it, probably not,” Aaron said, and that had made everybody laugh too.

So dinner had been loud and excited—but small, Guthrie was made to understand. He’d lucked into a small dinner this night, which was the only reason the family excused him and Tad early.

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