Page 76 of The Foreman and the Drifter
Jamie was always available for any job, no matter how rough. All he wanted in return, it seemed, was a nod indicating he’d done well. So Leland gave him those nods, and touched his shoulder, and singled him out—and all the while Jamie grew straighter each day, his shoulders filling out, his gaze more confident. And Leland loved him more each day, especially in the quiet of the evening like this as they padded barefoot to the front porch.
After Leland opened the bottles of root beer and put them on the arms of the chairs, Jamie reached inside and turned off the porch light. With a snap, it became much darker, the wind stirring the branches of the pine trees overhead, the stars coming out to wink through the gaps in the clouds. They watched as a soft rain came down, bringing with it the velvet scent of damp pine.
Leland sat with a sigh and took a long swig of root beer, wondering why he’d taken so long to make this particular dream come true. They’d been so busy with Jamie moving in, each of them adjusting to the other, week after week, finding their shared rhythm, slowly, slowly, lightly, lightly.
Leland slept better with Jamie in his arms, and that was just the truth. And every day, Jamie glowed, stars in his eyes, sunlight in his smile. He was not a drifter any more. He was putting down roots. The two of them were putting down roots that tangled together, deep underground, beneath their feet. All the way down to the center of the Earth.
Tipping his head back, taking a swallow of root beer, Leland half-laughed to himself.
“What?” asked Jamie, his voice low so as not to disturb the distant sound of coyotes crying for the moon.
“Well,” Leland said, feeling serious in his joy, just then. “I’m so glad you bought that bus ticket to anywhere. So glad you got off in Farthing.”
“I am too,” Jamie said, quite simply.
Leland turned his head to look at Jamie. He was leaning on his elbow, a shadow of an outline, his eyes glinting in the starlight and rainlight. He was sitting the way he did when they went anywhere in the truck, up on one knee, scanning the horizon, happy to be in motion, or to be still, each day a new adventure. Leland might not have deserved Jamie when he met him, but he damn well wanted to make sure he deserved him now.
“You’ve changed my life, and that’s all there is to it.” Leland took a hard swig of root beer, maybe too hard, still not used to the powerful feelings that would swarm up inside him.
“And you mine,” Jamie said, whispering.
Jamie got up then, putting his bottle of root beer on the porch, and Leland’s, too, and straddled Leland’s hips, his arms going between Leland’s back and the back of the chair. It was his favorite position. It was Leland’s, as well.
Leland wrapped his arms around Jamie and held him close, kissing the top of his head. That was his brand on him, the only mark he would ever make, the only way he would keep him tied to his side with an invisible kiss.
When Jamie felt the gesture, he pressed closer, as though he meant to push his way beneath Leland’s skin, into his body. That was his brand on Leland, and though it too was invisible, it would hold him stronger than any rope, and he was happy to let it.
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