Page 32 of Small City Heart
“Rachel! Hi.”
She was wearing a straw hat, big sunglasses, and a yellow summer dress that looked fantastic with her dark skin. He held up his camera.
“Can I take your picture?”
She smiled. “Only if you let me take yours. I’m on photo duty for theSmall City Gazette, and I suck at it.” At that point, he noticed a small camera in the palm of her hand.
“Quid pro quo. I like it.”
Patrick snapped her photo, which made a sheepish, shy expression creep across her face. Once their mutual picture taking was out of the way, Rachel slumped beside him and used her hat to fan her face.
“So you work for theGazette?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m the editor. The journalist who was supposed to cover the parade ended up with shingles on her face, so here I am. Don’t want to give all the anti-vaxxers’ kids the chickenpox.”
He peeked around them to confirm no one was listening in. Mom was deep in a conversation about currant jam and goat cheese with a man Patrick didn’t recognize, and everyone else in their vicinity was focused on the marching band stomping past.
“Do you like living here?” he asked Rachel. The sarcasm in her anti-vaxxer comment suggested otherwise.
After a breath, she said, “I’m not sure I’d be in Small City if it weren’t for Suzy, but I’m glad I am.”
“And you’re the editor for the paper. That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, there were a lot of people who weren’t happy about that, claimed I’d turn it into a liberal dish rag, which is partially true.” She laughed, her voice tinkling. “I get why people move away. I understand the impulse. I did it myself for a while, but small-town and flyover-state queers exist. According to Suzy and Charlie, ‘We’re here. We’re queer. We change our communities from the inside.’”
“And you? What do you think?”
“I check the parking lot at night before I walk to my car by myself. I don’t talk to my grandparents. I occasionally get hate mail at the paper. And yet, this is my home, and I’m going to fight tooth and nail until the people who think I don’t belong here leave, get voted out, or die.”
“I don’t know how you handle the small-town closeness, you know? The scrutiny. I didn’t like it when we were young.”
“When you’re young, you think the world revolves around you,” Rachel said, a wry smile sneaking across her face. “I like my life here. I wouldn’t trade it. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes there are idiots. But Suzy and I are defiantly thriving. That makes me happy.”
“I admire all of you—you, Suzy, Charlie—for carving your lives out here and being happy.”
“We’re just people. I know it’s not much, but there’s a place for you at theGazetteas a freelance photographer if you ever want it.” She laughed. “It feels dumb offering that. You’re an acclaimed photographer. You can do better than the local paper. But I’m here if you’re ever searching for a home.”
“You’re going to make me cry.”
“Don’t. It’s not that good an offer.”
“It’s not a bad one either. Thank you.”
“Of course.” She grinned and her eyes went wide. “Incoming, lover boy.”
He turned around and got an eyeful of Charlie in his station gear, all turned out like a firefighter-calendar cover star again. There had been a fire department float early in the parade, but unfortunately, Patrick hadn’t been able to see it clearly over everyone’s heads.
Charlie came to a stop in front of him with a confused frown. He thumbed Patrick’s lip, which lit him up like a sparkler. Good thing there was a firefighter close by. Patrick needed to be hosed off.
“Your mouth is blue.”
Rachel laughed behind him, and Patrick blushed. He stared down at his snow cone. It had betrayed him.
“Is it bad?”
Charlie laughed. “Like you blew a smurf.”
Patrick glared at him and tried to fight his smile. He didn’t want to smile at Charlie. In fact, Patrick wanted to put as much distance between them as possible until he figured his shit out. He’d kissed Charlie goodbye for a reason last night. Patrick’s emotions were too raw at the moment, and Charlie was entirely too enticing.
