“Just a little scuffle,” Zane said as he dropped his bag on the front step and turned back to the car for Ty’s.
“Zane Garrett, you get back here and give me a hug!” Mara called after him. “Earl, get their bags.”
Zane spun in place and returned to the porch, a little bemused by how he reacted to her orders without thinking. “We’re fine,” he said as she pulled him down into a tight hug. It was still awkward for him, but he was beginning to realize just how special it was.
“Both of you are liars,” Mara grumbled, though her voice was affectionate. “Come on in and tell us what happened. We wasn’t expecting you back.” She turned and led them into the house, where they could smell something with cinnamon cooking. Mara hooked her arms through both of theirs and dragged them into the house.
The smell of cinnamon was stronger in the kitchen. Mara pointed them toward the table and then sat across from them. “What happened in Texas?”
Zane met Ty’s eyes, wondering what Ty wanted to tell them. Zane wanted to tell them every word of it. He wanted to speak it to someone who would understand and give him a hug to make it better.
“Well,” Ty started out, glancing at Zane and then looking at his mother carefully. Zane could see his gears turning. “There were guns. And tigers. And horses, Ma, the horses were horrible. And basically, people wanted to kill us. Well, not us specifically, but—”
“All right!” Mara interrupted, waving her hand at Ty. She turned to Zane and pointed her finger at him. “He’s too full of bologna. You tell me.”
Zane released a sigh and smiled. Chester ambled in and took a seat, looking them both over but not commenting on their injuries. Earl joined them, and they gathered around the table as Zane related the entire story from beginning to end.
When he was done, it was nearing dusk. Mara stared at Zane for a long moment, then shifted her eyes to Ty suspiciously.
“And you thought I was lying,” Ty said, clearly satisfied. He pointed at the breadbox and stood. “Is that cinnamon bread? Is it warm?”
He turned toward the counter and Mara started fussing at him not to touch anything in her kitchen, leaving Zane at the table without further questioning. Surprised and grateful, Zane let out a long, slow breath and relaxed back in his chair as he watched mother and son verbally spar.
Earl’s hand came to rest on Zane’s shoulder, drawing his attention. Zane tensed as he turned to look at him, expecting the worst.
“You okay, boy?” Earl asked softly.
Zane blinked rapidly to cover the surprise and gave a curt nod. Then he shook his head. “No, sir.”
Earl nodded and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. “You will be.”
He left it at that, and Zane found the words and his simple delivery oddly comforting.
He sat back and observed the Gradys, finding it soothing. Eventually Chester shambled off to bed, and Earl and Ty left the kitchen under the auspices of checking the roof they’d rebuilt.
Zane found himself alone with Mara. She sat across from him and narrowed her eyes before talking. “Now I know Ty ain’t exactly diligent about it, so I’m telling you. You need to know I expect certain things from my boys.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t certain he could stand another lecture from a disapproving mother. “Okay.”
“We do Christmas, Thanksgiving, and sunrise service at Easter. If you have to go to Texas for some of those, that’s just fine, but I expect a phone call. Chester’s birthday is in April, and do not bring him anything that fires projectiles or is sharp. Or, God forbid, sharp projectiles. Understand? Because Ty does it every year.”
Zane blinked. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going, or why she was telling him instead of scolding Ty about it. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay then.” She nodded and sat back. “Now, there’s supposed to be a cold snap coming, so be a doll and go out back and get some firewood for me, would you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Zane said, bemused.
He pushed open the creaky screen door and stepped outside into the cool night, lit by a half moon and a ton of stars above him. He limped to the woodpile and looked up at the sky to let it sink in that Mara meant it when she’d said “my boys.” Including him.
It was more than he had any right to hope for, but he realized that deep down, he’d wanted to come here for exactly that reason.
A soft whistle from above cut into his thoughts, and when he looked up from the woodpile to investigate, he saw Ty and Earl both sitting on the new roof of the outbuilding, legs dangling over the edge. They were sharing one of Ty’s cigars. And they were laughing at him.
“She sent you out for firewood?” Ty called, incredulous.
“She said there was a cold snap coming.”
Ty’s infectious laughter rang out in the night, accompanied by Earl’s deeper chuckling. “Zane! It’s July!”
“But it’s the mountains!”
“It’s still July!”
Zane shrugged and waved them off, resisting the urge to gesture rudely. He realized what Mara was doing: distracting him while making him feel like part of the family instead of a guest. It had worked.
Earl still chuckled as he got to his feet. He began to slide along the new roof, heading toward the hill and the precarious way down. His voice carried in the night. “She thinks I’m building a fire in the middle of July, she’s off her rocker.”
Ty remained on the edge of the roof. Zane balanced the small stack of wood on his hip and walked up to him, able to return his lover’s smile without any added weight to his heart. Zane’s home was with Ty, even if he was sitting on a rickety tin roof framed by the smoky light of a summer moon.
“How’d you get up there?” Zane asked.
“Either stupidity or codeine, I’m not sure,” Ty answered amidst a blue ring of smoke.
“Should I call you Juliet or Rapunzel?”
“That which we call a rose.” The genteel words were so unexpected, uttered in Ty’s low, gravelly voice, Zane couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him. Ty leaned forward and smirked. “Are you ready to go home, my love?”
Zane bit his lip and nodded. “I’m ready for anything.”
Ty’s grin was slow and mischievous. “I certainly hope so.”
When Ty pushed through the door of their row house, the first thing he did was make the hissing noise to call for Smith and Wesson.