Summer Sweat (Spruce Texas)

“Needler …” I feel the prickling of memories coming back.

“Yep. Nowak is my stepdad’s name, which Gemma and I took when my mom got married to him.”

“Needler. Needler …” It hits me. “That’s right. Carson Needler. And your mom was Mrs. Needler back then, not Nowak. She was a teacher at Spruce High, right? A history teacher?”

“Social Studies, actually,” he corrects me, “but yeah, that’s … that’s right. She stopped teaching after my dad died.” He shakes his head as he puts a hand on the rocking chair, struck. “I don’t know what to say, Harrison. I didn’t realize this piece of work was yours.” He meets my eyes, bewildered, full of emotion. “It’s the only thing I have left of my dad.”

I look at him, touched.

He takes a seat in the rocking chair, feeling it. A soft smile takes over his face. “Y’know, Gemma was born just a few months before he died. She has no memory of him at all. It’s kinda sad, but I always told her if she ever wondered what he’s like, just come out and take a seat in this chair, and let yourself rock for a bit. He will come to you in your dreams.” He closes his eyes and lays his head back, as if to bask in the starlight. “I don’t know much about how it all happened. My parents sort of shielded me from all of the details. He got sick, from what I understand, then …” Hoyt stops rocking suddenly and gazes up at me. “Sorry. This story doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“Maybe it does.” I crouch next to the chair and take Hoyt’s hand. “You have more than just this chair. You’ve got your dad right here,” I say, putting my hand on his chest, feeling his heart as it beats. “You’re a good man, Hoyt. Like him.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.” I bring my hand to the side of his face, stroking his cheek. “I can see it in your eyes. You always strive to be better.”

“I’m not like him. My dad was … such a good man. He’d be so disappointed in me, in how I’ve acted, in who I’ve turned into …”

I bring my lips to Hoyt’s, silencing him.

It only works for five blissful seconds before he pulls away. “I let my dad down, Harrison, and you know it. I’ve got a temper. I have all this rage in me. I don’t know how to love anyone without hurting them. I pushed all my friends away. Hell, the only guy I ever kissed couldn’t move farther away from me.”

“He’s just a few hours away in a beach town, Hoyt, he didn’t run off to Honolulu.”

“I know.”

“And besides.” I take his other hand, too. He meets my eyes. “I kissed you. Several times. Look where I’m at. Right here.”

He stares at me for a while. After a moment, he nods. “You’re right here.”

“Not going anywhere at all. Not running away. Here.”

“Here.”

We both fall silent, staring into each other’s eyes. Then quite suddenly he doesn’t seem to care who’s watching as he brings his lips to mine, kissing me under the moon and the stars. It’s a firm kiss with a tinge of desperation in it—but soon it feels soft, sweet, and tranquil, as if the kiss itself is all the proof Hoyt needs that I won’t vanish the moment our lips part.

He pulls away and chuckles suddenly, letting go of my hands and rising to his feet. After a quick stretch, he turns to me. “I’m thinkin’ I’ve had enough feelin’ sorry for myself for a night.” He nudges me. “Wanna fuck off around town before heading back?”

I lift an eyebrow. “What?”

“C’mon, it’s barely ten. There’s something I wanna do. Let’s go.” He elbows me playfully as he walks past, heading for the door. I give the rocking chair one last look, feeling like I’ve just greeted and abruptly said goodbye to an old friend.

Chapter 19

Harrison

Per Hoyt’s direction—or order, depending on perspective—we take my truck back into town. People are walking the streets. The windows of every restaurant, bar, and café are filled with faces. A movie must have just let out at the Spruce Cinema 5, because we have to stop a while longer at the light to let a crowd of laughing, happy teenagers cross. Saturday night in Spruce hasn’t looked this busy in a long while. I guess that’s thanks to the summer, to the kids being out of school, and to who knows what else—something in the air that’s desperate for fun, sweet relief, and freedom?

Three things we all could use a little bit more of lately.

I pull into the parking lot of Hoyt’s surprise destination and take the first spot I find, lost in the middle somewhere among the crowd of cars. I stare through my windshield, in shock. “Wow, I … I didn’t realize it opened already.”