The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

Tommy wrapped himself in a sheet, which stuck to his body as it absorbed the water, and he sat by the fur, nodding.

[Can I try?] He pointed to Cole’s harmonica, and it struck Cole that while Tommy couldn’t speak, Ned had been teaching him some whistling techniques. The harmonica could prove just as entertaining to him, even if the missing tongue limited his progress.

“Sure, before sleep,” Cole said.

That had to be good enough for Tommy because he smiled and reached for the duck, to pluck it without being prompted—a testament to having spent most of his life on a farm.

Cole’s gaze gravitated to Ned, but when the green eyes looked straight at him, Cole cleared his throat and reached inside his vest pocket to pretend he was checking the time. “Maybe we should tell him some stories about the stars too. You know, like we used to.”

Like we used to—resting under the starry sky, before Cole had dared to take their relationship that one step further. Back then, they would lie in the grass just inches apart, and as Cole waited, never quite certain whether he should test his suspicions about Ned, even something as innocent as Ned brushing his elbow against Cole’s had made his heart pound. So many times he’d imagined ending one of the stories by rolling on top of Ned and kissing him. In those fantasies Ned was receptive, of course. Surprised at first, flushing like a schoolboy at that initial kiss, but then opening his mouth for more and glad to part his legs for Cole—

“Cole?” Ned snapped his fingers. “Tommy’s asking you something.”

Cole swallowed and glanced at the boy. His sign language wasn’t as elaborate as his mother’s had been, but he managed to communicate well enough.

[Is there a constellation for—?]

Like many times before, Tom used a sign Cole didn’t know, but then pointed at the bird in front of him, and a chuckle left Cole’s throat. He glanced at Ned before shifting closer to the boy. “Sure there is. A constellation for a whole flock of ducks. They are the guardians of farmland,” he said and pushed his fingers through Tommy’s hair.

Tommy’s eyes brightened up. [Show me at night.]

Cole swallowed, fleetingly wondering how it would be to have a son of his own. There was no place for women in his life anymore, at least not in the capacity they were present in most men’s lives, which left him out of possibilities. He’d known plenty of men like him who’d chosen to take a wife and live a regular life while keeping lovers in secret, but that was neither right nor convenient for him.

He didn’t need a lady to dust his floors and cook dinner, but was also in no position to take care of her, so he dropped the silly notions and opened a box of raisins to place a few in his mouth.

“What do you want to do in the future, Tommy? Have a farm, like your ma’s folks?”

The question must have taken the boy aback because he just shrugged and returned to plucking.

“Don’t talk about his mother,” Ned whispered.

Cole clenched his teeth. What did Ned know anyway? “Or maybe you’d like to be a deliveryman and ride all around the country, bringing people joy with letters and parcels? You could see so much of the world that way.”

Tommy frowned and put the duck down to communicate. [Not safe.]

That much was true. And what future were they talking about anyway when Tommy was bound for an orphanage? He’d surely learn a trade, but what lay beyond that?

Ned cleared his throat, setting up the roast over their campfire. “What will you do after… this?”

That question was meant for Cole, and he took a deep breath before glancing Ned’s way. “I’ve been wanting to see California for quite some time.” And yet, despite traveling all the way east, and even into Mexico, he’d never dared to pass the borders of the elusive place where he and Ned had intended to settle all the way back when they were still innocent boys, ignorant to all the ways their lives could go to shit.

The tension between them was as rigid as the roasting spike. “With me?” Ned asked as if they weren’t discussing matters of life and death here. Cole couldn’t take it anymore.

“Tommy, we’ll gather some herbs and fruit for dessert. Will you take care of the roasting until we’re back?” he asked the boy, who offered him a surprising smile, as if he were glad to work for his keep.

Dog’s ears perked up and he shifted his front paws, unsure whether he should go with his master or stay with his new friend and fresh meat, but he settled at Tommy’s side when Ned ordered him to stay.

Cole handed Tommy a little box of salt, and walked off between the trees without checking whether Ned would follow. He would.