Beau had meant to follow Connor home. He really had. But when Connor made the left onto the street that he lived on, Beau…didn’t. He followed the widely spaced street lights down Victory until they ran out, then kept going past the edge of town into the night.

He pushed the seek button on the radio, looking for a good song, and wished he had taken up smoking. Something about this night called for it. He should text Connor, let him know he wasn’t coming directly home.

Home.

The radio crackled with static as the signal drifted in and out. Irritated, Beau shut it off. He lowered the window and let his hand hang out the side, riding the currents of the night air. He was headed south, toward the Gulf. It was still over an hour away, but he imagined he could smell the briny salt scent of the sea. He’d been to pretty much every beach in the Mediterranean, but he’d never been to the Gulf of Mexico. Never even imagined wanting to go to Galveston. Now all he could think about was how much fun it would be to build sandcastles with the kids and find out how dark Connor could tan.

I don’t want the kids to think that this is more than it is.

That’s what Connor had said.

For the fourth time, Beau replayed the entire conversation, trying to see why it had left him so unsettled.

Were they boyfriends? Beau hadn’t had an actual boyfriend since college, and that had ended not long after graduation.

Beau drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. A blinking light crossing low against the dark, moonless sky caught his eye, and he turned down an almost-invisible dirt road. The road lead to a chain-link fence marking the end of a short runway. He must have circled around the back side of the small local airport. The lights of the recently departed plane flashed in his rearview mirror.

He was acting as if he had a decision to make when in reality, he didn’t. The harsh reality was that Connor hadn’t asked him to stay. And without Connor and the kids, there was no reason to.

Beau’s chest felt hollow, and he wished desperately he had left something alcoholic to drink in Lady Gaga. He realized that he wanted Connor to ask him to stay. That was what he had been running from down these dark backroads. Looked like he hadn’t been driving fast enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped.

Had anyone ever asked him to stay anywhere before? Even his parents hadn’t expected him to return home after college.

Maybe he should leave now, and use the degree that had cost him more than he would make in a lifetime of playing for the ECHL in support of the family business. He could quit the team and go home right now. There was nothing making him stay except that he liked hockey and he would miss the kids.

What was he even doing, playing at being a professional athlete? Without his family’s money subsidizing him, he would be screwed. He’d have nothing but a life of moving from one small town to another with no family, no savings, and no friends. Hell, he wouldn’t have his degree if it wasn’t for his parents’ money. No wonder Connor hadn’t asked him to stay, Beau had nothing to offer him.

Well, at least he knew Connor didn’t want him only for his money. As far as Connor knew, he didn’t have any.

Face it, Beau was going to have to leave. In the meantime, he would spend as much time with Connor as he could without giving the kids the wrong impression. Light. Casual. He could do that. With a push of a button, the seat rose slowly to the upright position. Time to go home.

Beau was pulling out of the liquor store parking lot when the text from Connor came in. You okay?

Fuck. He’d forgotten to call Connor. Yeah. He typed. All good. Be home soon. Sorry.

No big deal. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a car accident.

Oh, great. How could he have forgotten the last time someone hadn’t made it home? A car honked at him from behind. Beaus stuck his hand out the window to wave the guy around him. Oh no. I’m really sorry he texted.

K. I’m going upstairs. Check in if you want, Connor texted back.

I want.

By the time he’d changed out of his suit, and had a sip of the good whiskey he’d bought, Beau knew what he wanted. Though the lights were off in Connor’s room, he saw the red end of a cigarette flaring and dying with the rhythm of Connor’s inhalations.

Beau picked up the bottle and the house key Connor had given him. Condensation from the grass seeped into his sneakers as he walked across the yard. Letting himself in, he walked through the dark kitchen and up the two flights of stairs to Connor’s room.

“Con?” he called.

“Out here,” Connor replied.

Cigarette smoke drifted through an open window set low near the floor. Bending down, Beau stepped over the window sill onto a flat section of the roof that looked like it might have been meant to be some kind of deck but had never gotten finished.

Connor lay on a blanket, arms crossed behind his head as he gazed up at the stars. He was barefoot and wearing loose sleep pants and a T-shirt.

“Nice place,” Beau said. The back of the house looked out over empty fields and a small creek. Beau could smell the night-blooming flowers and the damp soil down by the creek. The ever-present frog and insect chorus filled the night with sound.

“I like it,” Connor said. “I like to look at the stars.”

Beau tilted his head up to see the wide swath of the Milky Way crossing the sky. With no moon, the light from the stars out here on the edge of town was almost bright enough to throw shadows.

Beau felt like he was on the edge of everything. The edge of the universe, of town, of the room, and a revelation that hovered just out of reach.

“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid,” Connor said.

“Really? Why didn’t you do it?”

“Money, mostly. Couldn’t afford college. I was probably a little scared, too, at the thought of getting a science degree. Long time ago, though.” He reached out for Beau’s pants leg, tugging at it to get him to sit. “Everything okay with you?”

Connor sounded different tonight, older, more contemplative than Beau was used to seeing him. For the first time, Beau noticed a hint of a laconic Texas twang in his voice. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Just driving around, clearing my head.”

Connor nodded slowly. “You staying?” he asked, patting the space next to him.

“If you want me to.”

“I do,” Connor answered with a small smile.

Beau lowered himself carefully to the roof. Connor had pulled one of the old quilts off his bed and spread it across the raw wood. It felt as if they were miles away from the real world. “I bought you a thank you for coming to my game. It meant more than you know.”

Connor took the bottle from him, his eyebrows raising as he checked out the label. “Nice choice, rich boy.”

“What? I’m not—”

“Don’t even try to pretend. I can smell it all over you.” Connor sat up and opened the bottle, the cork pulling free with a satisfying pop.

Beau sighed, accepting the fact that his cover was blown. It wasn’t that he tried to hide his background so much as he just didn’t bring it up. Money, the kind of money his family had, had a way of making every relationship weird. “What gave it away?”

Connor gave him a look. “Everything.” He ticked off this points on his fingers. “You never check prices on things, no matter what. All your clothes are name-brand, and, if I’m not mistaken, tailored to fit that fucking ridiculous ass. Your cologne smells expensive. Shit, even the stuff in your shower costs a lot; I checked the prices. You got a twenty-five dollar bottle of shampoo.” Grinning fondly, he shook his head.

“You knew?”

“Yeah, I knew. Why do you think I’m always using your shower?” he said laughing.

Beau shoved Connor with his shoulder. “You shit. I thought it was just too crowded in the house.”

Connor took a long drag of his cigarette. “Nah. I just like all that fancy soap and shit. Makes me smell like a pine forest.” He held his arm out so it hovered over Beau’s face.

Beau grabbed it with both hands and pulled it close to his nose. He took a big sniff, the hairs on Connor’s arm moving with his breath. “You smell like stale nachos.”

Connor yanked his arm away. “You say the prettiest things. No wonder you never get laid.”

“Who said I never get laid?”

“Have you recently?”

“You know I haven’t.”

Connor shrugged. “I don’t know what you do when you’re not here.”

“What I do is play hockey or practice hockey or work out. I eat lunch with the team. Occasionally, I nap in the back of the van.” He could hear the annoyance in his voice. “I’m not screwing around with anyone else. If you even care.”

Connor snubbed his cigarette out on the deck, then turned his head to look at Beau. “Oh, I care.” He traced Beau’s mouth with his finger. Beau smelled the cigarette smoke on his fingers. Before this, he would have said he hated the smell, but now it was just part of Connor. And he liked every part of Connor.

He kissed the tip of Connor’s finger. Heat flared in Connor’s eyes, and Beau leaned forward in anticipation of a kiss.

Instead, Connor laid down again, pillowing his head with arms, and staring back up at the stars. “I heard you talking on the phone the other night. Pretty good French for a country boy from Oklahoma.”

“I learned it in school.” That wasn’t a lie. Why were they talking about this? What could it matter?

“Yeah? You’re way more fluent than I am in Spanish, and I grew up in South Texas.”

Beau took the bottle out of Connor’s hand and sat up so he could drink. He took a sip, enjoying the slight burn and the aftertaste that lingered in his mouth. “How do you know? Maybe I sound like a kindergartener in French.”

Connor sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. He reached for the pack of cigarettes, then took his hand off them with a sigh. “I really gotta quit.” Reaching over, he pulled Beau close so he could run his fingers through Beau’s hair. “I love your fancy shampoos and your blue hair. Never change.”

Beau touched his head self-consciously. “It’s fading.”

“So re-dye it. Fiona’d love to help.” Scooting over so they were pressed together along their sides, he wiggled his fingers for Beau to pass the bottle back. “I know because I was two years in Brussels at the Embassy. I know what native speakers sound like. Plus, I heard you use a few words I am sure they didn’t teach you in school. So spill.”

“What does it matter?”

“I’m curious, that’s all. Wanna know more about you. Look, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He draped his arm over Beau’s knee. “You know I ain’t gonna judge you.”

Beau did know that. It was his turn to run his fingers through Connor’s hair. The thick dark brown strands slid through his fingers like silk. “I love your hair, too.”

Connor leaned into the touch.

“I did learn French in school,” Beau said.

“Um-hum. And where was that?”

“Switzerland,” he admitted. “And other places.”

“Hidden Creek must be deadly dull for you.” Beau heard the smallest bit of sorrow in Connor’s laugh.

“I like it here,” Beau said. “After a while on the road, all the places seem the same. They all have good things and all have bad things. Even Switzerland. Are you mad at me?” Beau asked

“Because you’re rich? Why would I be angry at that?”

“Because I wasn’t completely truthful with you.”

“Nah. I get it, I think. Besides, you don’t owe your whole life story to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that crosses your path. Especially the dicks.”

Beau knocked their shoulders together. “You’re funny. It’s just people get weird, you know? And then it’s like they don’t know how to talk to me. Or they think I’m something I’m not, or they want something from me.”

“How rich are we talking? Two nice cars, big house, and vacations in Europe rich?”

“Three-hundred and twenty-five thousand acres, eleven-thousand head of cattle, and eight hundred and fifty-seven oil wells rich.”

Connor whistled. “Goddamn. You really are slumming it. Why the fuck are you living in my trailer? You could have bought a house in Hidden Creek and lived there. Hell, you could have bought the whole damn town.”

Beau didn’t like to think about how close he’d come to doing just that. How he’d almost missed knowing this amazing man and his family. His life would have been so much emptier. And the saddest thing was, he would never have known what he was missing.

“I liked you,” Beau said. It sounded less pathetic than ‘I don’t like to live alone.’ Beau could count on one hand the number of years he hadn’t had at least one roommate. “You were real cute that first day at the shop.”

“Yeah?”

“Totally. You had that tank top, and the arms with the tattoo. Those greasy coveralls tied around your waist. It was like the start of a porno.”

Connor crossed his arms over his chest. “I feel so objectified. I’m not that kind of a boy.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Connor laughed. “Yeah. For you, I am. So is Beau Hopper even your real name?”

“Yeah. Well, part of it,” he qualified.

Connor leveled gaze at him.

Beau sighed. “My full name is Beau Hopper Buckman.” He waited for the comments. This part of Texas wasn’t quite the cattle country that other parts were, but still, his family’s ranch was very well-known.

But Connor just shook his head. “Am I supposed to be impressed, Beau Hopper Buckman?”

“Google it,” Beau said.

“Why would I do that?”

“Don’t you want to know about me?”

Connor rolled his eyes, and pulled Beau back down to the blanket, cradling his head against his chest. “I know everything I need to know about you. I know you’re a good man; I know you’re great with the kids. You’re funny and smart. You call me on my shit. You make me laugh when no one else can. You remind me that I’m not dead. And Lord knows I could have been, should have been, a million times over, even before the Marines.”

“I’m very glad you didn’t die before I met you.”

“Me, too. But I wasn’t done. You are a superlative cocksucker.”

Beau snorted. “I’ll add that to my resume.”

Connor ignored him. “From what I overheard the coach yelling at you, you could be great at hockey if you had dedicated yourself to it. And you’re leaving soon.”

“I’m too old to dedicate myself to hockey,” Beau answered, choosing to ignore that last part.

Connor nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you are now. Didn’t used to be. That’s the thing about not making a choice, time has a way of making them for you.”

Beau nodded. He was beginning to understand that.

Connor kissed the side of Beau’s head. Sliding out from underneath Beau, he pushed himself up. “Come to bed,” he said, holding a hand out.

Beau hesitated. “You sure? You said you wanted to keep this, us, under wraps.”

“Yeah. I changed my mind.” He extended his hand again. “You coming or you gonna sleep out here?”

Beau let Connor pull him up and into a hug.

“Look,” Connor said. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen in the morning. We’ll deal with that then. But if I’ve only got a little bit of time left with you, I want to remember the way you look in my bed.”