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“I’ve got school. Summer classes.” He paced the narrow room. Spring term had ended shortly after their hiking adventure and now he was finally getting the swing of the summer schedule. And he needed every last one of those summer credits if he was going to graduate on time.
“Next weekend’s gig is local to you. Friday at a place in La Jolla, close to the university. You could play it, then think about if you want to join us for more. We could maybe work around your classes for the California shows—most of the shows are weekend gigs. We’re not headed back abroad for a while.”
“One show.” Canaan could feel himself softening, giving in. “I’ll have to trade my Friday night shift and possibly give up seeing my boyfriend—”
“That’s awesome. We’d be so grateful. Jules will be thrilled.” Kelly didn’t seem to really get what sort of sacrifice Canaan was making here to do this favor for him, which made Canaan throw the ball of socks against the wall.
“One show,” he repeated.
“And then we’ll see. I’m not booking anyone in until you play with us. Give you a chance to make up your mind.”
Canaan felt pretty sure what his mind was going to be, but he went ahead and spent the rest of the phone call hashing out details for the show and a practice with Kelly.
He took his time finishing the laundry, trying to gather his thoughts. But finally, he had no choice but to go start dinner for him and Grandpa. No text from Renzo, which wasn’t all that unusual given that he’d had a training today, but still... Canaan had kind of hoped. And rather than tell Grandpa about the gig, he kept dinner conversation to things Grandpa liked to talk about like the latest season of his show and whether to go for the raised garden beds Renzo had suggested.
“What’s eating you?” Grandpa asked as they did the dishes. “I did warn you about the long periods without communication in a military relationship—”
“Really don’t want to talk about it.” Then, because he hated arguing with Grandpa, he added, “Sorry. It’s been a day.”
“It’s okay. You’re entitled to be grumpy sometimes.” Grandpa patted him on the arm. “You want to watch the show with me? Take a load off after all that studying? There’s cake in the fridge too.”
“I could do that.” Canaan cut them both generous slices of cake and was carrying them into the living room when there was a knock at the door. Firm and direct. Was it odd that he could now recognize Renzo’s knock? Because he totally could and he hurried to the door, giving Grandpa his cake as he passed his chair.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Renzo said when he opened the door to let him in. “I tried your place first.”
“Nah. Never.” It was a little unusual that Renzo hadn’t texted first, but Canaan wasn’t going to turn down an impromptu visit ever. He held out his plate. “You want cake?”
“Maybe later.” Renzo offered him a tight smile. He looked like he’d come right from the shower—little bit of shaving cream on the corner of his jaw, wet hair, and wrinkled T-shirt and shorts.
“Wait. Have you had dinner?”
“Uh...” Renzo apparently needed to think about this answer, so Canaan headed toward the kitchen, counting on Renzo to follow him. To his grandfather, he called out, “Go ahead and start the show. I’m finding Renzo some food.”
“Hey, you don’t have to cut out with your grandpa. I can come back—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re here. I’m going to feed you.”
“You’re too good to me.” Renzo’s eyes were more solemn than usual as he took a seat at the table while Canaan searched out some leftovers, giving Renzo a noodle dish from the previous night as well as that night’s fried rice.
“Hey, don’t thank me yet. It’s kinda potluck here, but it’s food and it’ll be hot.” He put the plate in the microwave and retrieved a bag of salad that Renzo could use to round out the meal. He made them both glasses of water—he knew how thirsty Renzo always was after a full day on duty. “And I’ll eat my cake with you, so you’re not eating alone.”
“Okay.” Renzo watched the numbers on the microwave, not meeting Canaan’s gaze.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Another tight smile. “How was your Sunday?”
“All right.” His imitation of Renzo’s accent didn’t get the usual laugh, so he went for honesty instead. “Kinda crappy actually—Kelly called. He needs a favor.”
“Oh?” The microwave dinged and Canaan brought Renzo the plate before taking his own cake to the chair opposite him, waiting until he was settled and had a few bites before he answered.
“Eric and Damian are out of the band—Eric because of his injuries, Damian for being an ass. The band wants me to play a few California shows with them while they figure out what to do next.”
