Ends of the Earth

Dee, nearing retirement but in better shape than most people half her age, picked up her wire-rimmed glasses and opened a folder. “That’s Tyree’s route.”

“Think you can switch us for the rest of this week?”

“Why? What’s wrong with Cloud Lake?” She raised an eyebrow.

Ben shrugged. “Nothing. Just feel like a change is all. If it’s a big deal—”

“Did I say it was a big deal? Tyree’s off this week anyway, so I’ll just put his temp on your detail. Satisfied?” She tucked an errant strand of gray-blond hair behind her ear and tightened her ponytail.

“Thanks.”

It could be slim pickings for a gay man living in the wilds of Montana, and Ben had an inkling that Jason Kellerman might provide a needed diversion. Sure, he had a kid and apparently a dead wife or girlfriend, but Ben’s instincts were rarely wrong. Jason had definitely been checking out Ben’s ass during the hike.

When the Kellermans drove away, Ben turned from the window and holed himself up in his little closet of an office in the rear of the station, flipping through a new accident report and rubber-stamping it.

His mind kept wandering back to Jason. Tall, slim, sandy blond hair that curled over the tops of his ears, and a killer smile with juicy lips. Hard to believe he had a kid Maggie’s age since he didn’t look a day over twenty. Ben wasn’t usually into younger guys, but Jason Kellerman was clearly older than he appeared, so why the hell not?

As if on fucking cue, Brad’s voice rang out from the main office. Groaning, Ben sat frozen at his desk. Should he go say hello? Be mature and rational like the forty-one-year-old man he was?

After all, Brad Cusack was the district manager and technically his boss. Ben couldn’t avoid him. Shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if he were in love with Brad anymore. They hadn’t been in love with each other for a long time, and that was part of the reason Brad had an affair and dumped Ben for a hot actor with a ranch near Great Falls. After just about two decades together—half their lives—their relationship had just…evaporated.

The usual swirl of shame and indignation churned Ben’s gut. Since college in Missoula, he and Brad had been “B&B,” openly gay and fighting for equality in the parks service, which they’d gotten since they were both dedicated to their jobs. Acceptance from colleagues had followed, and they’d eventually planned to marry and start a family.

But that had all been before Brad started moving up the parks food chain, more interested in administration than actually being out in the wild. Even after marriage equality was won by the Supreme Court’s ruling, there had always been one reason or another why it wasn’t a good time to plan a ceremony, let alone begin the difficult adoption process.

Then Brad met Tyson Lockwood.

In the outer office, a baby wailed, and Ben squeezed his eyes shut against the swell of resentment and longing.

Brad and Tyson Lockwood had married on horseback at Lockwood’s ranch the year before, and had now adopted a little boy. People Magazine had featured glossy, breathless, five-page spreads on both events.

Ben flattened his hands on the smooth, worn wood of his desk, listening to the murmur of deep voices as the baby wept. Over the years as he and Brad had grown apart, Ben had thought they wanted different things. But as it turned out, Brad did want marriage and a family—just not with him.

Brad had even kept their house outside Kalispell, albeit with grand new wings jutting out on either side. One night in a particularly self-pitying mood, Ben had driven by, slowing his pickup to peer into the gloom at the home, so familiar after living there more than ten years, but utterly foreign at the same time, dwarfed by the wood and glass additions.

The windows had been dark, and Ben figured Brad and Tyson were at the ranch. He’d pulled into the driveway, thinking about getting out and actually peeking in the shadowy windows, when a stark motion-sensor light illuminated the night.

Blinking into the harsh white glow, he’d slammed the truck into reverse and sped back to his dad’s old cabin, humiliation burning his cheeks.

That same shame flushed him now, and he shoved back his chair. No, he wasn’t going to hide in his tiny office. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t cheated or lied. Squaring his shoulders, he took a long breath and opened the door.

The baby—Lincoln—was cooing now, cradled in Dee’s arms. She looked up, her face creasing guiltily. Ben put on a wide smile. “Hi, Brad. Tyson. Great to see you.”

“Ben!” Brad was out of uniform, so apparently this was a social call. He was still stupidly handsome with his crooked smile and green eyes, fit and tall, cowboy boots heavy on the wooden floor as he strode over to shake Ben’s hand and pull him into a back-slapping half hug as if they were fishing buddies.