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And then, of course, there was them. What they had together, and what the future held. She’d even rekindled his own love of making art; lately, they’d made a habit to ride out to her rock and sit side by side on it, sketching the landscape, or working on some piece they had going, or just doodling, and talking all the while. She’d pointed out how strong his lines and shading were in his sketches, and he was starting to think he might be an okay tattoo artist, if he ever felt like learning how to use the machine.
Life was pretty fucking awesome these days.
He grabbed a hammer and went to the front door. “It looked like a close thing. If I take the top off the frame, front and back, it should come through. Then, fuck, let’s just knock out the wall at the end of the hall, the doorway to the chapel. The new door’s not here yet, anyway, so we’ve got time to reframe it.”
Reed nodded. “It’s a good idea.”
Cooper grinned. “Any time I can make a mess, I’m good. Let’s do it. But let’s get the table through this door first.”
Zach brandished his hammer. “I got you.”
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~oOo~
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Zach leaned on thehalf-wall that made the divider between the kitchen and the dining room, which was the HRC office.
Hunched at his desktop computer, Ben looked over his old-man glasses at him. It wasn’t easy to tell, but Zach knew him well enough by now to be pretty sure he’d seen Ben roll his eyes as he gave his head a subtle shake.
He also knew Lyra’s father well enough, after living here for about two months, to sense the affection in those microscopic gestures. Ben was a good dude. Crusty and crabby, but Zach liked old guys like that best. Like his pop.
Lyra, the reason Zach had come to the office, was buried in paperwork. He could tell by looking that they were forms having to do with the gallery space. They were far enough in the process that the lease was signed, and now Lyra and Michelle had to make sure everything they did to make the space their gallery had approvals from the landlord and the county—and, for a couple things, the state, too. Thankfully, Laughlin wasn’t an incorporated town, so there wasn’t that level of bureaucracy. Not anything with real sharp teeth, anyway. There was still a chamber of commerce, but most of their power came in the form of complaining.
She looked tired and entirely over it. She’d looked tired and entirely over it at dinner—which the men had made while Lyra pored over her forms. And it had been Ben’s idea to prepare a real meal, when Reed had suggested they order in.
Since the funeral, Ben was making some efforts to change. Small adjustments, but evident.
Whatever had been going on between Lyra’s parents recently had stopped after the funeral. Like, a full, screeching stop. They’d had a blowout fight in the party room during the cleanup, where Melody had done a lot of screaming about a lot of things, and even Ben had eventually amped up enough to really shout back—and damn, the man sounded like a fucking polar bear when he yelled. Then Melody had swanned out, actually doing a hair-flip and spinning on her heel, like she thought there might be a camera nearby. Ben had put his fist through a wall—before they’d done any repairs, thankfully—and stormed out a few minutes after her, roaring away on his Road King.
Most of the screaming had to do with things that were long in the past, but two topics Zach noticed most keenly: first was the club. She had a lot to say about the men and women she’d just played hostess for, and little of it was kind. She’d also had some unpleasant things to say about Lyra and Ben’s relationship. That was when Ben began to shout, when Reed had tried to get Melody to calm down, and when Zach had taken Lyra’s hand and tried to remove her from the scene.
The next day, without a word to anyone except a note on the door of her shop, Melody left Laughlin for some ‘me time’ in San Diego, return date undecided.
Zach had always appreciated his own mother and felt lucky to have her. But in contrast to Lyra’s, his mom was a fucking saint. He’d never felt an impulse to hurt a woman, and he intended never to do so—which was a big reason he’d gotten himself shot—but he wouldn’t be sorry if Lyra’s mother walked full speed into a pole or something.
Lyra had cried in his arms that afternoon, and the next day when she’d gone by and found the note, and not again. She’d set that particular pain aside and focused on what was good. Zach intended to help her do exactly that.
“Hey,” he said now, still leaning on one of the decorative dowels that made up the top of the half wall.
She looked up from her paperwork mountain and smiled. “Hey. I thought you were going out with Reed and the others.”
Reed, Kai, and Geno had gone out to the batting cages. Turned out, Reed was exactly the serious jock a first impression would lead anyone to believe. A two-sport threat in high school: an all-state quarterback and an ace pitcher. Lest one think all gay men were into show tunes and high fashion.
Kai and Geno had played baseball and basketball in high school, and they both played softball in a rec league now. Zach was jock-ish himself—he’d been the starting first baseman of his high school team—and he enjoyed hanging out at the cages. It was starting to become a thing among the younger guys of the Nevada Bulls.
But he had other plans this evening. “Nope. I have a better idea. Take a ride with me.”
Ben’s beard twitched, as if he’d almost smiled but caught it back in time. Zach had talked to him about his plans—not to ask for permission, but for advice—and he’d gotten good advice. So Ben knew what was up, and he was good with it.
Lyra looked at the work before her for a moment. Zach let her take that time to decide.
“Okay,” she said and began tidying up her desk. “That sounds wonderful. I’m over this for tonight anyway. My eyes are crossing.”
As she closed up her work for the night, Zach looked to her father. Ben’s eyes were on him. They shared a thought with a glance, and Ben nodded once.
Lyra had been too busy to notice, but there was a reason Ben had developed a sudden interest in preparing meals and learning how the dishwasher worked.
