Page 11 of Mr. Frosty Pants
“Maybe.” She eyed him speculatively. “Does he have a good reason to be mad at you?”
“I left for three and a half years and never got in touch.”
“Huh. Never pegged him for being sensitive about niceties and shit like that, but, then again, I don’t actually know him that well.” She lifted her chin higher and nodded once, a smirk twisting her lips. “That’s it. I’m putting 666 on the baby Jesus’s forehead, and I’m gonna get that selfie. He owes me for making me close without him.” Without another word, she stomped back into Vreeland’s, leaving Casey alone amongst the Christmas trees.
He consulted his inner Ann and got nothing.
After breathing in and out twenty times, he grabbed the nearest eight-foot tall tree, dragged it toward his SUV, and shoved it in the back, heedless of broken limbs or damage. Then he headed in to pay the goth girl. Inside, he grabbed some decent-sized wreaths—one with a giant red bow.
Then he climbed back into his SUV, ready to return to his parents’ house with all his hard-won greenery. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he resolved to write the whole incident off as a mistake. Take it as a lesson. This time, he’d be done with Joel for real, and he wouldn’t ever look back.
“You utter asshole,” he muttered, as snow again flirted with his windshield.
He wasn’t sure if he was talking about Joel or himself.
Chapter Five
The prior week,Joel had decked out his trailer for the holidays. He’d draped solar-powered colored lights along the gutters and added a wreath with a hanger on the front door. But nothing really took away from the fact that it just didn’t feel like home.
No place had in a long time now.
The house in Belmont Hills hadn’t felt like home once Casey left for college. Then it’d been ripped away from him entirely after Pop’s stroke when he’d been forced to sell it to help fund his stay in the nursing home.
Joel climbed out of his faithful gray Chevy Silverado and took a good hard look at the trailer on the two-acre lot where he lived now, trying to see it through Casey’s eyes. It was a decent piece of land he’d inherited directly from his granny on his mother’s side when she passed away. In the gloom of night, illuminated only by the motion-sensor lights he’d put along the edge of his property, he noted the line where the lingering grass turned muddy down by the lake. The water shimmered in the moonlight, dancing in the light breeze. The fishing was good there in the summer, and he often caught his own dinner, which went toward cutting down the grocery bill.
Over to the right, near a thicket of overgrown bushes and shade trees, tumbled-down walls indicated the spot where Granny’s old cabin had once stood. To the left was a flat area that led to the ridge of train tracks running along the eastern side of his property.
A layman unfamiliar with the ins and outs of Knoxville real estate might have thought Joel could solve his money troubles by selling these two acres of lake property to a developer. But the close presence of the train tracks and the fact that the property was on the “wrong side” of the lake made it worth very little. Joel was proud of the land, though. It was his, and no one could take it away from him.
Admittedly, the trailer wasn’t his dream home. Once his financial tides had finally turned, he planned to build a log cabin to his own specifications—a home that would do his grandmother’s gift justice and make a nice place for him to retire into old age. He’d write his books by the window, looking out on the lake, surrounded by peace and quiet.
Maybe he’d never move out of Knoxville like he’d dreamed when he was a teenager just a few short, hard years ago, but he could make something good out of what he had here. He looked around and saw possibilities. It was one of the only areas of his life where he felt optimistic.
But if Casey saw the place as it was now, he wouldn’t see Joel’s dreams. All he’d see was Joel’s current poverty, and he’d pity him. Or, worse, he’d loathe him. Casey’s face would take on that sour look rich people always wore when confronted with the unwashed masses. That haughty sneer. Joel never wanted to see Casey’s all-American, gorgeous face twisted up like that.
And damn, if it wasn’t somehow worse that Casey’d grown up so handsome and tall. He’d lost all his old nerdy scrawniness. The boy Joel had found confusingly attractive had become the kind of man who could make Joel’s head spin. Because, yeah, Joel was gay as hell. It’d taken him a long time to fully admit it to himself, but it was the truth. And one day he was going to have to do something about it.
But not with Casey Stevens.Neverwith Casey Stevens.
He stalked up the stairs to the trailer and jerked open the door. The welcoming scent of spicy chili greeted him. Saliva flooded his mouth, and he groaned hungrily. He’d forgotten to eat most of the day—not that he had a lot in the tiny fridge at the store anyway.
His dog Bruno flung himself at Joel desperately. His golden, sleek, muscled body wriggled like mad and his whip-long tail whapped from side to side, catching a stack of bills on the entryway table and knocking them to the floor.
“Well, hello to you too,” Joel said with a laugh, rubbing Bruno’s silky ears and gazing into his wide-set golden eyes. He’d taken Bruno in when he found him wandering the edge of his property, skinny and starving, with twine knotted around his neck. It’d never crossed his mind to send him to an animal shelter.
He knew a pit bull mix would face a death sentence at most shelters or, worse, be “adopted” out to dog fighters. Besides, he’d been lonely, and taking in a dog seemed a far better choice than actually doing something scary like downloading one of those gay dating apps.
So, a dog it was. Unlike with some meaningless hookup, Joel had no regrets. Bruno was a great pet. He waited patiently all day for Joel to come home, never running off too far, and always using the dog door Joel had installed to do his business. Plus he greeted Joel just like this. Every day. No matter what.
To Bruno, Joel mattered—morethan mattered.
Bruno didn’t care if Joel had been away for sixteen hours at Vreeland’s doing his work. He didn’t care if Joel was hungry, tired, and not sure where the next paycheck was coming from. Bruno was just happy as hell every time Joel came back, period. He didn’t know they lived on the “wrong” side of the lake in a trailer with not enough food. He just loved bounding in the woods after squirrels and splashing in the water. His nonjudgmental love, incredibly low expectations, and unconditional trust had saved Joel’s life too, if he were honest.
Which, as Joel was all too aware, he didn’t tend to be.
Not about the scary things. And not about important ones. Like how he’dreallyfelt when he saw Casey Stevens get out of his stunning white, brand-new SUV that evening. It’d been a kick to the gut, and then to the nads, and then to the gut again. Fuck. He was still winded from it.
When Bruno calmed down from his greeting, Joel said, “Let’s get some dinner, yeah?”
