Best Laid Plans (Garnet Run 2)

Were they twirling around like some Sound of Music number or was Rye’s head spinning?

When his feet hit the ground again he grabbed Charlie’s arm to steady himself. That...wasn’t supposed to happen from a kiss. Maybe he was just dizzy because he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet? Yeah, he’d go with that.

But when Charlie slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him tight to his body as they walked toward the house, the soft spot inside Rye grew larger still. Was he rotting like fruit? This was terrible. Terrible.

But Charlie’s arm felt so damn good around him. Warm and strong and just so...present. Like Rye could lean into him and be held forever. And, really, how terrible could it be if Rye couldn’t stop grinning. He pressed his face into Charlie’s shoulder to hide the grin.

Jack’s truck came around the curve of the road and Charlie’s arm tightened around him like he thought Rye might try and shrug it off.

Jack and Simon were in the middle of a conversation and not paying much attention to their surroundings and for just a moment, Rye got to see a very different Simon than he’d seen before. Simon elbowed Jack and made a face at him, then smiled brightly, teasing him.

When Simon looked up and saw Rye and Charlie, he closed up like a crocus in the morning, shoulders hunching slightly and chin tipping down. Still, Simon greeted them warmly. It was only the contrast of a moment before that let Rye know this wasn’t his always state.

Marie came next, sketching a good morning salute, then Bob with more tools and a boom box already playing honky-tonk. Vanessa and Rachel piled out of their car, looking sleepy and chugging coffees. Vanessa glared at the boom box and Bob tipped his hat to her.

Rye thanked everyone enthusiastically for showing up to help and promised them all the pizza they could eat. Charlie set them up with jobs.

They jacked up the house to replace the posts, then reframed the front door. Charlie set Jack and Rachel to work with Bob on the roof.

“Hey,” Charlie said. “Let’s talk layout.”

“Huh?”

“Of the house. The next step will be framing in the interior walls, so we should walk around and talk about where you want the rooms to be.”

“Oh.”

Rye trailed after Charlie.

“Ordinarily we would’ve talked about it sooner, but given the limited budget we needed to keep the exterior walls since they were in okay shape.” Charlie had already told Rye this. Rye nodded. “So, do you want to keep the bedroom upstairs?”

“Uh. Okay?”

“It’s more private that way,” Charlie said.

As if the fact that the house was in the middle of nowhere didn’t make all of it private enough. As if he’d ever had privacy before in his life.

“Sure, sounds fine.”

“Good. Since we’re keeping costs down by not moving the plumbing or electric, that makes the most sense. Same with leaving the kitchen where it is.”

“Why’re you even asking me, then?” Rye grumbled.

“Well, it is your house,” Charlie said, with a playful shoulder bump.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Rye felt suddenly awkward.

His house. Which meant his bedroom. Which meant him...living in this house. By himself. Waking up in a bed in that bedroom. Cooking dinner for himself in that kitchen. In Wyoming. Alone.

The treacherous soft spot in his stomach caved into a pit.

“I don’t, uh... I’m gonna...”

Rye walked out the front door and toward the trees, sucking in fresh air. They were pine trees, but not the same pine trees he was used to from Seattle.

At the tree line, Charlie caught him by the shoulder.

“Hey! Are you all right? What’s up?”

“I’ve never had my own place before,” Rye said. “Not even a studio apartment. I’m used to living with a bunch of other people in a space we can’t change. I don’t... I don’t even know what I’d do with a whole house.”

“I think you’ll find your life expands to fill the space you have.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Rye asked.

“Sure,” Charlie said. But somehow Rye didn’t quite believe him.

* * *

The next day they left the construction to Bob and Marie and several of Marie’s friends who’d volunteered to help, and Charlie drove them to an architectural salvage store two towns over.

“Seeing some options might give you a better idea of what you want the house to be,” Charlie said. “I know it’s hard to make it up out of nothing, especially if you never considered what you might want your house to look like.”

Rye goggled at the enormous space broken into sections by type of merchandise. Kitchen cabinets in a Tetris against the left-hand wall, sinks and toilets of all shapes and sizes creating a maze to get to shelves packed with light fixtures. Bathtubs bloomed like upside-down mushrooms in the back right corner and steel girders held myriad pieces of wood, from molding to flooring. The entire middle of the space was long tables crammed with crates of doorknobs, drawer pulls, brackets, hinges, faucets, and every other decorative piece of hardware imaginable.