His Best Man Read online

  Where was he, anyway? Rod usually hung out in the TV room whenever he was over. The TV room was their comfort zone; had been since they started college. It was game time, the parents were in the living room now, and Travis could finally relax. His folks had finally said goodbye to Lisa and her dad. Lisa’d acted like she wanted to stay, but Travis had made it clear he and Rod were gonna to play some Call of Duty. His best buddy had made the long trip here, and Travis wanted to hang out and relax.

  This was Travis’s favorite part of the four-day holiday weekend, other than the food. This was what he lived for: staying up late playing games with Rod and shooting the breeze, remembering all the stupid stuff they’d done. The past couple of months had been weird, with Travis at home in Walla Walla and Rod three hundred miles away in Skagit.

  Plus, Travis’s palms were still clammy from making the engagement announcement during dinner, and he needed to work off some nervous energy shooting stuff. He hadn’t exactly planned to tell everyone during dinner, but there hadn’t seemed like a better time to get it over with. His mother had actually shrieked with joy. He shook his head as he made his way back upstairs to the kitchen.

  His sister had the refrigerator door propped open against her hip, hunting for a snack. Wasn’t it funny how you could eat until you thought you were going to pop and somehow manage to be hungry only a few hours later? Strangers often thought he and Abs were twins; Abigail was almost as tall as Travis, and they had the same color hair and eyes. Travis was older, but Abigail constantly reminded him she was more mature.

  “Abigail, where’s Rod? Have you seen him? I can’t find him anywhere.”

  Abigail cocked her head over her shoulder to look over at him with an expression Travis couldn’t quite translate. He wasn’t always good at reading people. He needed them to tell him what they were thinking.

  “He left. I saw his truck pull out of the driveway.” She pulled a plate of turkey out of the fridge and started to make herself a sandwich.

  Travis was speechless for a minute. Rod had left? Where would he go? Why would he go?

  “He left? When? The roads are going to be terrible! Why would he leave without saying goodbye?” There’d been warnings all week about a winter storm on its way that was going to bring snow east of the Cascades and rain and wind to the west side of the state.

  “Gee, Trav, I don’t know, maybe because you forgot to mention to him that you were getting engaged?” Abigail let out a derisive scoff. “And to Lisa Harris, of all people.” She dumped a spoonful of cranberry sauce on the turkey before laying the second piece of bread across the meat.

  “Don’t hold back, Abigail, tell me how you really feel. What’s wrong with Lisa? She’s nice, and we’ve known her forever.”

  “Lisa’s been obsessing over you forever. She used to try and pump me for information about you: what did you like, who did you like… I just have a bad feeling.” She shrugged. “If I’m wrong, I’ll buy you a beer. Anyway, don’t you think ‘what’s wrong’ is a question you should have asked before you asked her to marry you?” She took a big bite of her sandwich, chewing and swallowing while she waited for his answer.

  “Jeez, Abs.” She glowered at the use of her childhood nickname; “Abs” did not make her happy. “Like I said, I’ve known her forever. She’s always been nice to me, and Mom and Dad—well, Mom seems to like her.” His mom was the only one who mattered; their dad tended to stay quiet during family discussions. “Besides, I didn’t really ask her. We kind of agreed together.”

  “You are so stupid. God. How did you survive to adulthood? You know how? I’ll tell you how: Rod saved your ass time after time. You wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him. I mean, seriously, if you are going to use the excuse; I’m sorry, ‘reason’”—she actually made air quotes—“that you asked Lisa to marry you because you’ve known her forever, why didn’t you ask Rod? You’ve known him longer.”

  She muttered something else under her breath as she stomped away, plate in hand, but Travis didn’t hear what she said. He couldn’t hear anything past “ask Rod”; there was a weird roaring in his ears. Travis trailed after his sister as she marched out of the kitchen and up the back stairs toward their bedrooms.

  Abigail’s room was at the top of the stairs and looked much as it had throughout their childhood. The walls were a light pink, matching the comforter on her bed, and several throw pillows covered in a darker pink fabric were propped on top of the bed. It looked pretty, Travis supposed, and the white carpet made the colors pop. Their mom had designed everything from a catalog picture she’d seen.

  “I can’t ask Rod to marry me.” Why were they even talking about this?

  Putting her plate down on the pretty bedside table, Abigail threw herself on the bed and began shoving the pillows to the floor. “I hate these pillows, I hate these colors, I hate all of it. I don’t know why Lenore insists on decorating my room; I’m never moving back for good. And yes you can, same-sex marriage has been legal in Washington since 2012.”

  “I mean…” Travis’s voice trailed off. Why was the idea of marrying Rod throwing him off?

  Abigail finished ravaging her bed, going so far as to turn the comforter over to show a pale mint green on the other side. She flopped back on the mattress and narrowed her eyes at him. The room was quiet while Travis waited for her to say something else. She had more on her mind, he was certain of that.

  Travis leaned back against the doorframe, feigning calmness.

  Finally she broke the silence. “Travis, you are gay, aren’t you?”

  “Shhh! Jesus, you don’t want Mom hearing you tossing around words like that, she’ll lecture you for hours.” They weren’t an uber-religious family, but Walla Walla was a conservative small town, and Lenore placed herself firmly in the “gays are bad” camp.

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “You know what? She’s not the boss of me anymore. I’m an adult. Are. You. Gay. Travis.”

  He opened his mouth to deny his sexuality, but something in Abigail’s expression and stormy blue eyes made him stop. When the subject came up—and it never had with his little sister, thank you very much—Travis said he was bi. He did think he was bi. He’d had sex with women and enjoyed it enough, but in reality was he wasn’t attracted to a lot of women. He tended toward an athletic and tomboyish physical type. Tiny feminine women did nothing for him.

  “Bi, mostly.”

  “Bi,” she repeated, raising both eyebrows.

  “I’ve had sex with women.” Travis scuffed a toe along the pristine carpet, thinking about how he spent the off time during fire season. If he wasn’t hanging out with Rod, he was horizontal with whoever made themselves available. Mostly of the male variety.

  “Having sex with women doesn’t make you straight, Trav, or bi for that matter.”

  He knew that.

  “Why are we discussing my, uh, bi-ness when I just got engaged to Lisa?”

  His sister rolled her eyes up to the ceiling again. At this rate they were going to freeze that way.

  “Okay, big brother, you are bi. You’re right, I’m not inside your head. I apologize.”

  Abigail started to say something else, but Travis heard footsteps on the stairs behind him, followed by their mother’s voice.

  “Sweetlings,” she called out. Travis and Abigail both cringed. Abigail jumped up, grabbing the pillows off the floor where she’d flung them, and quickly began rearranging her bed. Travis turned around to greet Lenore, buying Abs some time.

  “Mom.” Travis tried to summon a real smile for her, but it felt contrived and uncomfortable. The conversation with Abigail had him off balance.

  “It’s so nice to see the two of you getting along. I’m sure Abby is just as excited as I am that Lisa is joining the family. Oh, Travis,” Lenore clasped her hands, “you’ve made me so happy! I was getting worried you’d never settle down and give me grandbabies.”

  Abigail appeared beside Travis. “Mom, you can’t go imagining grandkids, they’re n
ot even married yet. What if it doesn’t work out?” Bless Abs for putting it out there, but no way was Lenore going to entertain the idea of Travis and Lisa not working out when the engagement had been public knowledge for less than twenty-four hours.

  Frankly, Travis hadn’t put much thought into the engagement at all… and he was beginning to realize this was a serious problem. He’d been out drinking at the Green Lantern with Lisa and a few other old friends. When the others had left, he and Lisa stayed to finish their drinks and have a few more. Travis liked Lisa’s company enough, they’d got to talking about life, marriage (the details were murky there), and the next thing Travis knew, they’d decided it would be perfect if they got married.

  They celebrated by going to Lisa’s place and having drunken sex. At least, Travis had woken up in her bed naked with the covers all over the place, so he figured they’d had sex. He’d let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he saw the used condom in the trash next to the bed.

  “When are we going to tell our families?” Lisa was awake now, watching as Travis pulled on his clothes from the night before, her long dark hair splayed across a pillow.

  “Thanksgiving dinner?” Doing it then would be easiest. Everybody would be there; he’d do it quick, so it would be over with—like pulling off a Band-Aid.

  Travis cringed at the memory.

  Lenore kept talking as if Abigail hadn’t spoken at all. “I was thinking, a spring wedding will be perfect. After all, there is no reason to wait. Tomorrow I’m going to call and see if the Grange is available in May or June. Your dad and I got married in June.”

  “Mom, I’ll probably be called for fire season in May,” Travis said, trying to slow her down.

  Lenore stared at Travis for a second, her mouth slightly open, before replying, “Travis, the time for that kind of thing is over. You’re a family man now. Tomorrow at breakfast we’ll talk dates and, as I said, I’ll call around. If the Grange is taken, maybe the gazebo at the park. Don’t sleep in too late; we have so much to talk about. Abigail, don’t leave that plate up here.” With that she turned to make her way down the short hallway and back downstairs.

  The two of them were quiet for a moment, staring at each other, and then Abigail spoke. “Wow, it’s even worse than I thought. I’m going to bed, brother. Good luck in the morning.” She shut the door behind her, leaving Travis standing in the hallway wondering what the hell he had done to his life.

  Travis’s bedroom was at the far end of the hall and much larger than Abigail’s; it extended the full length of the house. Six windows took up the long wall looking down into the front yard. Half the room was set up like a living room, with a TV, gaming system, and small couch to lounge on while playing or watching movies. The other half harbored a display case that held all the meaningless trophies from the various team sports he’d played throughout his school years. They were embarrassing; he didn’t even want Rod seeing those stupid things. His bed, across from the TV, was queen-size, not that anyone but him would ever be sleeping in it.

  Except… goose bumps spread across his skin, and Travis twitched. He’d be sleeping with Lisa, wouldn’t he? And now his mom was already talking about grandkids. Travis liked kids enough, but he’d never imagined himself with a bunch of mini-me’s running around.

  Rod loved kids; he was a magnet for them. Rod was a magnet for all living things. Travis couldn’t count how many times wounded or stray animals that animal control couldn’t capture would just come right up to his best friend.

  Shit. Rod. Shit, shit, shit, why had he left? Travis needed his buddy here so he could figure out why he was feeling weird and out of sorts. Rod was always patient with Travis, never making him feel stupid when he took things literally. They’d laughed over the years that they shared a brain, because there were a lot of times when one of them would say something and the other would have been thinking it. Or Travis would have an idea and Rod would know it was bad without hearing what it was. Although sometimes it was Rod with the wild idea. Travis chuckled, remembering the time they’d caught birds for Rod’s animal hospital, only to have his mother scream and make them set the birds free.

  He stared at his gaming system. He couldn’t bring himself to load up Call of Duty now; he didn’t feel like playing alone. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid under the covers where he could hide from reality. The sheets were cool and felt good against his skin. Unfortunately, this was yet another sheet-and-comforter set provided by his mother. It looked like she’d gotten ahold of a Pottery Barn catalog and gone wild. The duvet was a hideous dark green and beige covered with cowboy hats and boots surrounded by lassos, butt-ugly. Nothing Travis would pick out for himself. Well, he wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark.

  It was midnight, but he shot another text off to Rod anyway. Hopefully they could get together in the morning and hash whatever this was out. Travis waited a few minutes for a reply, but it had been a long day. Turning off the bedside lamp, he pulled the comforter across his body, then lay wide awake for hours, unpleasant thoughts keeping his brain from turning off.

  Friday morning came far too soon. The last time he’d looked at the clock, it had been 3:48 a.m. He checked his phone first thing, but there was still no reply from Rod. He wondered where Rod had stayed the night. Now that his parents were gone from town, Rod usually slept in the Walkers’ family room. Travis’s mom frowned on adult sleepovers… whatever that meant. Maybe he’d had a room at one of the chain hotels in town and forgot to tell Travis. He texted again. No answer.

  Breakfast was a nightmare.

  When Lenore said they would talk in the morning, she had neglected to mention that Lisa and her dad would be joining them. Hadn’t they all seen each other the day before? Why did they need to get together twelve hours later? Travis wanted nothing more than to sip his black coffee and try to figure out where he’d gone wrong.

  He sat at the table feeling like he was being flattened by a steamroller, Wile E. Coyote–style, while his mother and Lisa discussed the upcoming wedding, making lists and searching the internet for various “must-haves.” Abigail shot him sympathetic glances, but they only made Travis feel worse and more trapped and stupid, although he still hadn’t entirely figured out that angle of his stupidity. Yet. He might be slow, but he always made it to the finish line.

  His dad came to his rescue.

  “Son, I need some help out in the small barn today. You think you can let the ladies talk wedding shop while we patch a few holes in the roof?” The “small barn” was two thousand square feet and a single story, compared to the “big barn,” which was over three thousand square feet and two-and-a-half stories tall. The small barn was also out on the original Walker property east of town, so he and his dad would be gone a good portion of the day, given that the roads were icy as fuck.

  “Sure, Dad.”

  His mom may have wanted him to stay, but she deferred to Michael when it came to the farm. Twenty minutes later they were gone from the house, heading east toward Waitsburg. Travis sent one more text to Rod. He could tell they’d been read, but the bastard hadn’t bothered to respond. For the rest of the day he and his dad would be out of cell phone range. A blessing and a curse. He’d talk to Rod tonight.

  3

  Was there a word for feeling worse than utter and complete crap? Rod wasn’t sure. Aside from his terrible hangover, he’d ignored Travis’s texts from Thanksgiving evening and the day after. Now he felt guilty, hurt, and had a hangover.

  The texts sat on his phone unanswered, taunting him. He shouldn’t have left town like that, he knew, but he hadn’t been able to stomach being around the happy couple. And he was still afraid he would say something he couldn’t take back. As hurt and angry at himself as he was, Rod didn’t want to cut ties with Travis. He just needed space to redefine their relationship, and for that he needed a little time and distance.

  He needed a plan.

  The Ford rumbled along the two-lane road as Rod drove back in
to Skagit from Cam’s cabin. His cell phone was stuffed in the glove compartment so he wouldn’t be tempted to read, or answer, any texts that might have arrived since he last looked. No, he would quietly obsess about Travis instead… as he had been since they were both sixteen.

  Overnight, Travis had gone from being Rod’s best friend and partner in boyhood crimes to being the half-grown man starring in Rod’s budding sexual fantasies. The fantasies had evolved since then, but back then all he’d needed to do was think about Travis, about his laughing blue eyes, his stupid hair that turned almost white in the summer sun, his butt.

  Rod imprinted on Travis like a duckling… except there were zero childlike feelings on Rod’s part. One day they were best friends; the next, Rod was having to wear loose jeans to hide the nearly constant semi he had around his friend. Realizing he was gay but living in a conservative farming town had meant it was imperative for Rod to keep his sexuality hidden. He’d been under no illusion that there weren’t people in town who would be happy to dump his body in the Walla Walla River or thrash him behind the quick-stop on the highway out of town.

  He'd been lucky: as Travis’s best friend, Rod was largely ignored by the set of people who spent their days making other people’s lives miserable. Travis was popular and generally well-liked by everyone, and Rod swam along in his wake, accepted by the cool kids through osmosis. And Rod was still so deep in the friend zone Travis had asked him to be his best man.

  Travis confessed to Rod he was bi after Rod came out to him in college, but he never acted like anything more than a friend to Rod—even though they spent almost all their time together. Pretty much the only thing they didn’t do was have sex. And Travis never slept with guys when they were home. Walla Walla was women-only. Until Lisa, Rod hadn’t been certain there were any home-town girls left for Travis to date, much less ask to marry him.