Page 53 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight
“You come and stay with us if you need to, all right?” he said as he set him back down.
Cole nodded.
“I’m serious. If Bonnie hears you been sleepin’ on the streets again, she’ll have my balls like she did the last time.”
“Ah, come on now, who you foolin’,” Cole said and shoved JP playfully.
“Look at this one, thinks he’s a big man now!” Keith said and picked him up. Cole was passed around in hugs before the crew saluted Grady and set off in a cloud of dust.
Grady stood next to Cole as they watched the point where the trucks had long since disappeared, the silence filtering in and feeling empty for the first time in a long time.
Grady frowned. He wanted to say something. He knew Cole wouldn’t be sleeping on the streets again if he could help it and yet, that was an impossible thing to promise, wasn’t it? Cole was his hand. Sure, they also gave each othera hand, and it mightn’t be like with anyone else, but it’d be weird if he went and said something about it.
Cole was holding his book to his chest and looking at the point where they’d disappeared like he’d lost his farm all over again. Grady knew he needed to say something, anything. He didn’t expect the truth to come tumbling out.
“You should’ve told me it was your birthday.”
Cole glanced at him and then back at the emptiness.
“Well, now you know,” he said after a while.
“For next time,” Grady said.
“Yeah, sure,” Cole said like it was a platitude.
“For next time,” Grady repeated more firmly. He tugged Cole against his side and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Happy birthday.”
“Get off it,” Cole said, but Grady felt his smile against his throat as Cole buried his face there.
“Let’s go celebrate.” Grady let him go.
“It was a while ago.”
“Two weeks ain’t a while.”
Cole kicked the dirt, looked at the book in his hands and smiled as they went down to the house.
“Reckon I got some better beers than that shit JP brought anyways,” Grady said.
“It ain’t a contest.”
Grady held the gate open for him and Cole went through.
“’Course not, how can it be a contest if I already won?”
Cole sniggered, gaze on his boots as he opened the door to let Grady through. Grady told him to get the good glasses out of the buffet and went down to the basement for the good stuff.
It was dusty, the shelves buckling under the weight of old cartons of the beer his daddy used to like to drink. He bypassed it and went for the whiskey. One bottle in particular. It was from when his granddaddy ran the place, when he turned the land from nothing and made it into something. Grady picked it up and wiped the dust off the label. It was written in old Irish, which Grady didn’t understand, but his daddy and his granddaddy said it was good drinking whiskey and meant for a special occasion.
Grady gripped it in one hand and got a box of beer under his other arm. He went up the stairs and found Cole sitting at the kitchen table, good beer glasses in front of him.
Grady set the bottle of whiskey on the table.
“We can start with this.” He turned and stashed a few beers in the freezer.
He was pulling out the whiskey tumblers when Cole murmured something from behind him.
“What?”
