Summer Sweat (Spruce Texas)

“I really mean it, too,” I press on, pulling Lance and Harrison’s attention back to me. “The whole thing about turning keys, settin’ ourselves free from our own cages …” I clear my throat. “I thought it was powerful. And it was brave, Chad’s speech.”

Lance smiles. “Well, too bad Chad isn’t here or else you could tell him yourself. And maybe someday, we won’t need to call it bravery. Just a statement as boring as announcing what you had for breakfast. Three eggs over easy with a few slices of cantaloupe, by the way.” His smile fades. He tilts his head, studying me. “But is there a specific reason you’re saying this, Hoyt?”

I hesitate. “Huh?”

“Are you coming out to us? Is that what this is?”

My heart is suddenly in my throat, suffocating me. “I—wait, what? No.” I let out a bark of laughter. “No, no. I’m not. I was just meanin’ … I just meant I thought Chad was brave to—”

“Calm down, cowboy,” says Lance with a laugh. “No biggie.” He glances at Harrison. “Y’know how to pick them. He’s even high strung like you, boss man.”

I flinch. “High strung …?”

Ignoring me, Harrison frowns at Lance. “I didn’t pick the boy, that’s all on Gary. I’m only high strung because I got way too much on my plate at all times of the day.”

“Yeah, but who’s doing the serving?” asks Lance. “You and I both know if you just let go the reins a bit, that farm of Gary’s will run just fine with the workers you’ve trained. Your ‘plate’ doesn’t need to be as full as it is. Besides, that’s how we put on the spare tires, and men our age gotta watch out for that.” He shoots me a look. “Not young men his age, of course. Seriously, what is your waist size, Hoyt? 26?”

Harrison clears his throat rather loudly, then rises. “Anyway, time’s flying. We gotta head back to the farm. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to give me a holler.”

Lance gazes at him questioningly. “Of … Of course. Okay.”

“And give Chad my regards, too, whenever he gets in.” Then Harrison turns his hard eyes onto me. “Ready to go?”

“Wait,” says Lance, rising. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all,” says Harrison, pasting on an abrupt smile. “We’ve just gotta get back. Lost track of time. Maybe one of these nights, I can bring by some beer and you, me, and Chad can chat and … and reminisce about the old days or something.” He lifts an eyebrow my way. “Ready to go?” he asks again.

I guess I’m supposed to take the hint. I rise from my chair. “Yeah, we better get back. Lunch break is … probably over by now. The others will need me for the afternoon stuff.”

Lance’s eyes dance back and forth between us. “Hmm, okay. Oh, if everyone else at the farm is having lunch right now, what about you guys? Did you two eat? Chad and I had friends over the other night, and there’s a butt load of brisket in the fridge if you want any. You could—”

“We’re fine,” Harrison insists. “Had a bite before we left. But I appreciate it anyway. Enjoy your table, Lance.”

We definitely did not have a bite before we left. But I keep that fact to myself and follow Harrison out of the house. Lance stands at the door, gazing at us with questions in his eyes, as we hop back into Harrison’s truck and, after one last wave, take off.

Chapter 12

Harrison

We’ve barely left the driveway when Hoyt asks, “Why did we have to leave so abruptly?”

I keep my eyes on the road. Despite trying not to think about my miserable experience of my high school reunion a few years ago, the feelings keep rushing back. Feeling alone. Feeling empty. Feeling invisible.

And watching the train wreck that was Lance and his Chad become a full-circle miracle of love before my eyes.

“Do you gotta take a dump or somethin’?” asks Hoyt.

I’m happy for Lance. I am. I never thought much of Chad, but I’m truly happy for Lance that he found someone to fulfill him. All this time since the reunion, I’ve wondered if I was really attracted to Lance at all, or if it was just that I was attracted to what he was, what he had, and what he found in Chad.

Why does it feel like I’ll never find that for myself?

“Did Lance, like, make you feel uncomfortable or somethin’?” Hoyt is still reaching. “He seems like a nice guy to me.”

“Just shut up, Hoyt,” I mumble, miserable.

“I’ll shut up when I get one damned answer from you.”

“I said shut—”

A loud pop. My truck lurches suddenly, goes lopsided, and the loud and grating noise of metal fills our ears as my truck slows. I pull over to the side of the road and kill the engine. Well, fuck me.