Page 39 of Wistful in Wyoming
A high-pitched, childlike voice rang throughout the diner. “Everyone deserves love! Ms. Crystal says so.” Georgie nodded decisively and thrust out his chest, almost daring anyone to disagree with him.
“You heard him,” Kam added, placing a paw-sized hand on his mother’s shoulder.
Not a single other person in the place spoke up, for or against what’d already been said. One and all returned their attention to their own lunches and companions, and calm fell over the large room again.
“Thanks, Crystal, Kam, Georgie.” Jeremiah dipped his chin to each in turn, deeply touched by their show of support.
Crystal smiled back. “No problem, sugar. Sit back down—your meals will be right out.” Spinning around, she patted her son’s chest as she walked by him into the kitchen. With a final lingering glance at Jeremiah and Dale, which Jeremiah couldn’t decipher, Kam followed his mother.
“Well, that went better than you probably expected,” Dale murmured softly, enough so only Jeremiah could hear him after they took their seats again.
“Better than I could’ve ever imagined,” he admitted.
“Other than that guy who only missed getting decked thanks to your cousin’s impeccable timing.” Dale took off Jeremiah’s hat and ran his fingers through the man’s hair. “Though next time, baby, you should tell him that gay men aren’t pussies—it takes a real man to take a dick up the ass.”
Tipping his head back, Jeremiah roared with laughter. “That remains to be seen, Marine.”
Winking, he took a sip of his Coke and relaxed back into Dale’s loose hold.I could so get used to this.
The thought startled him. He suddenly realized he reallycouldget used to it now. There were no more walls, no more secrets, no more fear. He was out. It was a done deal, and there was no looking back. Nearly giddy, he felt lightheaded and was thankful he was sitting down.
“Hello, boys.” Mrs. Barbara Bradley, the elderly mother of Antelope Rock’s mayor, Joe Bradley, had stopped at their table and was smiling at them. She’d been Butterfield’s head librarian for longer than Jeremiah had been alive and had only recently retired. While the Rock had always been her home, the town was too small for its own public library.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Bradley,” Jeremiah responded at the same time Dale said, “Good afternoon, ma’am.”
The octogenarian held her hand up to the side of her mouth as if ready to relate a secret. “I just wanted to say, good on you both. You make a very handsome couple. Mr. Harris, I hope you know you’ve got a wonderful man here, and if you do him wrong, then I have a great-nephew I can introduce him to.” She pointed at Dale and narrowed her eyes at him. “Food for thought—keep it in mind.”
Dale wasn’t the only one clearly trying to hide an amused grin. Beside him, Jeremiah used a hand to cover his own mouth as Dale nodded at the woman. “Yes, ma’am. I will. And I agree with you—Jeremiah’s a good man—and I promise to do right by him.”
“You do that. Now, have a nice lunch, boys, and tell your folks I said hello, Jeremiah.” With a little wave and a wink, she headed for the door.
Jeremiah faced Dale with an expression and feeling of disbelief and then elation. His coming out really was going to be okay. While there would always be jackasses like Schneider, Skinner, and Larson, there would also be kind and accepting people like Jenna, Willow, Nathan, Mrs. Bradley, Crystal, Kam, and even Georgie. At that moment, he vowed the latter would be of more importance to him from then on.
For now, though, he did something he’d always dreamed of doing, something that’d been unthinkable before he’d fallen for Dale—he kissed his boyfriend. On the mouth. In public. And it felt amazing.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jeremiah was waitingfor his nerves to tumble around in his gut like a washing machine, but all he felt was joy. Elation. Freedom. And desire.
I’m out! I did it, finally!
Sure, he fully expected more blow-back and whispered slurs, but the weight he’d carried on his shoulders his entire adult life had been lifted. He felt so light, he was certain he could rise into the air and drift away at any moment. Keeping him anchored, though, was Dale, his hand gripping Jeremiah’s tightly as he drove them back to the JP.
He couldn’t wait until they were alone and behind closed doors—not the figurative one he’d just escaped through. He wanted to make love to Dale.
With Dale.
Under him.
Over him.
Around him.
And in any position they could contort their bodies into that connected them in the most primal way.
Neither were young men anymore, capable of several bouts of sex throughout the night, but he would bet his favorite belt buckle, they both had at least two rounds in them. The anticipation alone would ensure that.
“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Dale asked, squeezing Jeremiah’s hand as he steered the truck onto JP’s long drive.
