Page 22 of Dust and Desire
Alex
Iparked my old truck by the arena just outside my apartment. There was a handled paper bag filled with takeout in my passenger seat that Dolly had insisted I take without payment. I was supposed to be taking it to Dustin, but I’d been taking my sweet time about it. I nursed my dinner for as long as I could stand before leaving and now that I was back at the ranch, I found myself a bit nervous about going through with Dolly’s plan.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the truck, paper bag in hand. The heat of the day had started to wane as the sun headed toward the western horizon. The sky was drenched in reds and golds, catching the underside of the clouds. I stared up at it for a moment, taking it all in. Then, steeling my nerves, I headed down the long winding path to Dustin’s cabin.
The gravel crunched under my boots as I walked, each step sending little plumes of dust into the air. My heart hammered in my chest like I was some lovesick teenager instead of a grown man. What was it about Dustin that got me so twisted up inside? I’d never been this nervous approaching anyone before.
His cabin sat nestled among a stand of pines, the wood blendingwith the landscape like it had grown there naturally. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney despite the warmth of the evening. As I got closer, I could see a soft glow through the windows, warm and inviting against the deepening twilight. I hadn’t gotten a good look at it the last time I visited, but it was probably the nicest tiny home I’d ever seen.
I paused at the bottom of the porch steps, shifting the bag from one hand to the other. What if he slammed the door in my face? What if he wasn’t even home? What if?—
“Stop being such a damn coward,” I muttered to myself, climbing the steps before I could change my mind.
I knocked firmly, three sharp raps that seemed to echo in the quiet evening air. For a long moment, there was nothing. Then I heard movement inside, soft footsteps approaching the door.
When it swung open, Dustin stood there looking rumpled and soft in a way I hadn’t seen before. His dark hair was tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he wore a faded blue t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in all the right ways. His eyes widened when he saw me, those blue depths reflecting surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.
“Alex,” he said, my name barely more than a breath on his lips.
“Hey,” I replied, holding up the bag like an offering. “Dolly sent dinner. Thought you might be hungry.”
He blinked, looking from me to the bag and back again. “I... thank you.”
An awkward silence stretched between us. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
“Can I come in?” I finally asked. “Or we could eat outside if you’d prefer. It’s a nice evening.”
Something flickered across his face. Hesitation, maybe even fear, but then he stepped back, opening the door wider. “You can come in.”
The inside of his cabin was exactly what I remembered, but this time his yoga mat wasn’t spread out on the floor. It was tidybut lived-in, with books stacked on every available surface. A laptop sat open on a small table by the window, the screen showing a document with only a few lines of text. The furniture was simple but comfortable-looking, and there was a braided rug on the floor that had seen better days, probably from a local thrift store.
“I like this place,” I said, setting the bag down on the small kitchen table. “It’s cozy.”
“It’s small,” he replied with a shrug, “but it’s all I need. And it’s twice the size of some of the New York apartments I’ve lived in.”
“I can’t imagine living in New York,” I said, starting to unpack the food for him. “All those people crammed together, everyone rushing somewhere. I like things quiet.”
Dustin smiled faintly, grabbing plates from a cabinet. “It has its charms. The energy, the people, the restaurants... but yeah, after a while it starts to feel like the buildings are closing in on you.”
“I’ve visited a couple big cities during my travels,” I said. “Mostly just passing through. I’m not sure I could live around all the concrete and metal. Give me trees and open sky any day.”
“I agree,” he replied. “Though I didn’t know that’s what I needed until I saw this place.” He stared at the containers on the table, counting them mentally. “Did Dolly send enough? It’s not like her to skimp on food.”
“Oh, I already ate,” I smiled, taking the seat on the opposite side of the table. “But she sent enough pecan pie for the both of us.”
Dustin’s eyes lit up at the mention of pecan pie, and for the first time since I’d arrived, his shoulders seemed to relax a fraction. “Dolly’s pecan pie is dangerous. I’ve been known to eat an entire slice in one sitting.”
“Just one slice?” I teased, watching as he served himself generous portions of the brisket and sides. “You’re showing more restraint than I would.”
A genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Well, maybe two slices. But only on special occasions.”
“What constitutes a special occasion?” I asked, settling back in my chair.
He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “I... honestly, I’m not sure anymore. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to celebrate.”
The admission hung between us, heavy with unspoken sadness. I wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into what had put that melancholy in his voice, but I could see him already starting to retreat inward.
“Well,” I said carefully, “maybe we should make tonight a special occasion. Good food, good company...” I gestured toward the window where the sunset painted everything in warm gold. “And a beautiful evening.”
