“Oh good, my back is killing me, I need a break from staring at my editing software,” Abigail drawled, dragging the words through a long yawn. “Hey, Body, how’s your uncle?” She was the only person who, once learning his given name was Ichabod, decided to create her own nickname for him, and she’d landed on Body. Her explanation was he had a nice ass.
“Hey, Abs, he’s doing okay. Improving.” He gave her a quick run-down of his day since Malcolm picked him up—skipping the kissing part—and up through closing down the saloon.
“I knew going back to Chance was exactly what you needed.”
“Since when?” While Abigail hadn’t warned him against coming back, since she only knew very vague things about his years here, she’d also never pushed him toward reconnecting with his past.
“Since right now. I know you, and I heard the joy when you talked about working in that saloon. And seeing your uncle again. The only time you really got sour was mentioning the ex-boyfriend. That stir up some stuff?”
“Stirred up a damned cattle stampede. Malcolm is as tied up in my memories of Chance as my uncle’s place, and I’m still kind of mad at Howie for never telling me Malcolm settled here for good after his brother-in-law died. Hearing from Malcolm felt like an ambush, even though I know it wasn’t.”
Not an intentional one, anyway.
“So, are you going to see Malcolm again?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, what? Really?” On her end, something clanked then gurgled. “Sorry, pouring myself some wine.”
“With ice cubes?”
“You drink your way, I’ll drink mine.” She let out a satisfied groan, which was probably Abigail settling into her circular Papasan chair with the freshly-poured wine-on-ice. “Tell me more. Give me something to think about that has nothing to do with Photoshop.”
“Well, he came to the saloon tonight. We talked a little.”He’s still so fucking sexy, wears tight jeans, a big belt buckle, and my God, I want to kiss him again. A lot.“It was a good talk.” Until the end.
“So, you’re going to see him again, because you’re filling in at the saloon, and he’s a regular?”
“That and…I’m tired of being mad at him, Abs. I have burned so much anger in my life, and I’m choking on the fumes. If I could forgive Darren, I can forgive Malcolm.”
Abigail sighed. Ice clinked, probably from a healthy swig of wine. “Yeah. Yeah, you can. And I say that not knowing what exactly this Malcolm character did to you, but I do know what Darren did. Forgiveness isn’t easy, especially when that person is gone.”
“But Malcolm’s not. I did not answer my phone last night expecting to hear his voice, and I did not fly to Colorado expecting to do more than be cordial with him. I think…you know how I feel about God, but maybe this is where I’m supposed to be. Here, with these people in particular.”
“I think that’s a healthy perspective. Jesus Christ Almighty, Ginger, shut up!”
Iggy chuckled. “What’s your cat doing now?”
“Yowling at the window to be let inside. An hour ago, he was yowling to be let out. He can’t make up his mind.”
“You’re the genius who adopted an alley cat.”
“Yeah, well…whatever. You don’t understand pet ownership.”
“Very true, and I probably never will.” Iggy was allergic to dogs, Malcolm was allergic to cats, and Iggy wasn’t much for small “pets” they already sold traps and poisons for, like rodents—and why was he even considering Malcolm’s allergy? They weren’t together, they didn’t share a residence, or even a cohabitating future.
Nope.
He could (maybe) offer Malcolm forgiveness and friendship, but nothing more. Nothing long term. Because Chance was a for-now spot, not a forever one.
“What were we talking about before my dumb cat—oh yeah. Forgiving Malcolm. Moving on. And not to put on my Nosy Gossip Queen crown with you, but are you ever going to tell me exactly what went down between you two in high school? Advice about this isn’t easy with so much missing context.”
“Eventually, yeah. I will, Abs, I promise. But it’s something I think I need to hash out with Malcolm first. Sometimes…we don’t remember the past exactly how things happened, and now that so much time has passed…”
“You’re wondering if it was as awful as you remember it?”
“Yeah.” The emotions were real. The individual moments were real. But how they were stitched together by reality and the actions he hadn’t witnessed? He’d never gotten Malcolm’s full side of things. As a betrayed teenager, Iggy’s emotions had burned hotter than the sun, and now that the temperature had cooled to moderate levels, time had started showing the cracks. The missing bits.
He had all the makings of a good cocktail but no real idea how to assemble them into something that made sense.
