Page 27 of Courageous Hearts

“Love you, too. Talk soon.”

Sara blows a kiss across the line before hanging up, and I sigh, stretching my toes out from under the covers and catching sight of a few notifications on my phone that must’ve come through this morning. A “Happy birthday, sib!” text from Cooper, a few similar sentiments from the folks at work, and one simpler, “Talk later?” request from my buddy Will, aka Cooper’s boyfriend.

With a smile, I throw back my blanket, and Dee’s face pops around the partition between our beds.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I ask with an apologetic wince.

She waves me off, walking to my bed and plopping down. Dee’s still wearing her sleep things: a camisole and silky-looking shorts. “It was time to get up anyhow. That your aunt?”

“Yeah,” I say with a smile.

“Did I hear you say you’re going to visit?” Dee asks me, brushing her hair into some semblance of order with her fingers.

“Yeah. I think it’s time.”

Dee’s eyebrows wing up, but she doesn’t question me. She knows how difficult my relationship with my hometown is, but maybe she can sense something in my tone. The resignation I feel myself, knowing it’s time to set some old ghosts to rest.

“Well, let me know if you need any help packing,” she says.

It’s my turn to wing up a skeptical brow. “And why would I need help?”

“To make sure you have everything you need to impress the single cowboys down there,” she says, like it’s a given.

“First off, I’m pretty sure any queer man in Plum Valley, Texas is either my relative or datin’ one,” I reply, causing Dee to snicker. It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s close. “And secondly, cowboy’s not my type.”

Dee’s grin turns mischievous. “Seemed your type last night.”

My thoughts shift to that bull ride with the handsome hat-wearing “cowboy.” While that was fun, he had nothing on a certain tall, brown-haired man with intense dark eyes and a wonderfully crooked smile. Heck, one simple hug from said man was more invigorating than a near-rubdown by someone else on top of a mechanical bull. And the way he touched my back near the bar?

Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “Wanna head downstairs and get bagels?”

Dee groans in pleasure, hopping off my bed. “Yes. I need some cream cheese and lox in my life right now.”

I chuckle, and the two of us get ready before making the short trip down to the bagel shop below our apartment. I get a sea salt bagel, and I resolutely do not think about a certain man who somehow always smells like the ocean.

I’m walking along Navy Pier later on my afternoon off—having decided to see what all the fuss is about—when I pull out my phone to check in with Will.

Me: Up for that chat?

Taking a seat on a vacant bench, I let the wind float my hair around my face while I wait for Will’s response. A family walks by in front of me as I sit there, two kids in a stroller and another hanging off the back as a harried-looking parent or caretaker pushes them along. I give a little smile as they pass, and my phone buzzes in my hand.

Will: You bet. Video?

Without bothering to reply, I call Will via video chat, and a moment later, he picks up. Like me, he’s sitting outside, the backdrop of Plum Valley behind him. Rolling hills, late-season wildflowers, and a lightly clouded sky fill the screen around his smiling face.

“Hey, Bo,” he says, blue eyes squinted against the sun.

Will’s an interesting blend of his dads and his mom, at least from what I saw of her from pictures. He has his biological dad’s blue eyes and strength of spirit, his mom’s wavy brown hair and somewhat leaner stature, and that fire and pluck of his is all Wyatt’s, his pop.

“Hey, Will,” I reply, finding a comfortable position on the bench. “It’s good to see you.”

“Same. How’s the job goin’? How’s the city? How’re you?”

“Good, good, and good,” I say with a chuckle. “Still lovin’ the cabaret. Adore the city. And I’m…still me.”

“I can see that,” Will says, his eyes flicking over the screen. “That color suits you.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly, plucking at the hem of my lilac shirt. It has a subtle flower print that looks like polka dots from further away. “How’s everythin’ back in our tiny neck of the woods?”

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