Page 30 of Road to a Cowboy

Letting out a quiet breath, he mimicked Austin’s pose and shoved his own hands in his pockets.

Windsor Town Square wasn’t crowded at this time of night, and evidence of the market hung around in discarded food cartons that hadn’t been picked up by the evening cleaners yet and in mangled twist ties and stretched-out elastic bands that hadn’t made their way into garbage bins. By tomorrow morning, the square would be as pristine as always, but Cal didn’t mind the detritus. It was like peering into the square’s past life.

A few other couples strolled hand in hand, and a couple pushed a stroller, taking their baby on a late-night walk. An older gentleman sat on a bench nearby, a shaggy dog resting at his feet as he wrote in a journal by the light of the old-fashioned lampposts.

“Not often you see someone use a fountain pen,” Austin remarked once they’d passed the gentleman and were far enough away not to be overheard.

“I think your dad is the only person I ever see use them,” Cal said.

“He still uses that one you got him for his birthday that year you lived with us. My mom got him a new one last Christmas, and I don’t think he’s taken it out of the box once.” Austin chuckled, the sound filled with fondness. “He’s loyal to yours, if one can be loyal to a pen.”

Affection for Austin’s parents bubbled in Cal’s chest and expanded his ribcage.

There was another reason this thing with Austin was a bad idea—if he lost Austin because they weren’t ready for this or couldn’t make it work, would Cal lose the MacIsaacs too?

“Speaking of my dad,” Austin went on, sending Cal a sideways grin. “He says he’s going to try a homemade Hollandaise recipe tomorrow so we can have eggs Benedict for breakfast. Wait until you see how much butter he’s bought.”

“Oh, uh...” Cal cleared his throat. “I don’t think I can make it tomorrow.”

He could, as it were, but he didn’t want to. Not if things would be as weird between him and Austin as they were right now. Cal needed space. He needed time. He needed to sit with his thoughts and think. A lot.

“But...” Austin stopped, right there on the path, the smile slipping off his face. “You always join us for brunch on Sund?—”

The fairy lights above them went dark, plunging them into shadow while the rest of the park remained lit. It was like someone had unplugged the string directly above them. Like the universe could tell that this evening had been for shit and had decided to add the fucking cherry on top.

Austin’s shoulders slumped, and he swallowed hard. “You know what? Let’s just go home.”

Cal couldn’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t.

Chapter Ten

The following morning, Austin sat at his parents’ kitchen table and forced himself to pay attention to the conversation instead of playing a highlight reel in his head of everything that had gone wrong last night. Dad’s homemade Hollandaise had been restaurant-grade, and Mom had made Cal’s favorite cornmeal muffins. Of course, Austin had had to fumble through an explanation for why Cal wasn’t here, settling for a lame and noncommittal “He had a thing,” after which his mom had packed up most of the muffins for Austin to deliver to Cal later.

At the end of the table was Dad’s tablet, angled so that Ben, video calling in from the UK, could see all three of them and virtually join them for brunch. Though it was approaching dinner time in Ben’s neck of the woods, so he had some kind of microwavable meal that looked sad and unappetizing compared to the homemade spread in front of Austin.

Austin had lost track of the conversation sometime during Dad’s recitation of the benefits of his birding app, and he tuned back in while Ben was detailing his plans for the week.

“Sorry, did you say you got a new job?” Austin interrupted. “I thought you were bartending.”

“I am, but it’s a nighttime gig,” Ben said. “I got a daytime job at the zoo as a seasonal grounds operative. Mostly it involves keeping my designated area clean of litter and providing directions to visitors. It’s a six-month part-time contract, but it’s pretty good money.”

“That’ll make for some long hours for you on days you have to work both jobs, won’t it?” Dad asked, a furrow appearing between his brows. “A full day at the zoo, followed by several hours bartending. That’s a long day on your feet.”

Ben shrugged, but Austin saw past the easy smile to the man beneath. If he were to take a portrait of his brother right now, he’d title it Little Boy Lost.

“I’ll be fine,” Ben said. “I like having somewhere to go and something to do. So what’s going on over there? And wait—where’s Cal?”

“He had a thing,” Mom said, full of snark.

Austin did not appreciate her tone.

Ben stabbed his too-orange mac and cheese with a fork. “A thing that prevented him from coming to breakfast? Oh, did he have to work?”

“Sure.” Austin tore a muffin in two and slathered butter on both sides. “Work. That’s plausible. Yes, he had to work.”

They stared at him with varying degrees of confusion and concern.

Dad was the one who took the reins. “Do you not know where he is?”

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