Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  “Of course.” Wesley stood, his expression of trepidation increasing with the use of his name.

  With him standing so close, Travis had to tilt his head up to look Wesley in the eye. “I, uh….” Dammit, why was this so hard? “I just, um… wanted to say I’m sorry for….”

  Wesley’s brows rose even farther, almost disappearing under his sweep of dark blond hair.

  The words burst from Travis in a rush. “I want to apologize for calling you a fag the other day. I was just worried, and it was Dunkyn.” Again his hand seemed to flail about in midair on its own accord. He stuffed it in his pocket. “There’s not an excuse. I just…. Well, I’m sorry.”

  “Mr. Bennett, it’s oka—” Wesley broke off, then shrugged. “Thank you. I appreciate that. It’s forgotten. People say stuff in those moments. It happens.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t. At least not from me.” His gaze darted away, but he forced it back, looking at the vet’s brown eyes. Brown eyes. “And enough with the Mr. Bennett stuff. Just Travis, okay?”

  A smile played at the corner of Wesley’s lips. “Okay.”

  And there was that awkwardness, again. What came next? What was he supposed to say? Wendy would know. He could almost hear Shannon laughing at him—almost.

  “You’ve got the most decked-out barn I’ve ever seen.” Wesley took a step away, lessening the tension, and made a sweeping motion over the barn’s interior.

  “Yeah?” Nice one, Bennett. Nice. The man provides you with a conversation starter and you simply say yeah. Dumbass.

  “Yeah, it’s beautiful. And spotless. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was all for show and you just used the place for wedding receptions or something.” Wesley looked away from the log timbers Travis had used instead of support beams. “You don’t, do you?”

  “I don’t think too many brides want the sound of chickens clacking during their ceremony. They’re quiet now, but you should hear those biddies in the daytime.” Travis motioned overhead to the pulley system that ran to the midpoint of the ceiling and then angled over to the opening to the hayloft. “Plus, that probably wouldn’t look good in wedding pictures.”

  Wesley followed his motion. “Are those skylights?”

  “Yes, but I was talking about the equipment I use for the hayloft.”

  “I’ve never seen a barn with skylights before.” Wesley walked over to the trough, folding his arms over the top rail and looking out into the dark field. Half of one of the barn’s walls was open to the outside, forming a large lean-to, and a wooden trough ran the length of the interior corral. “I assume there are doors outside you can slide shut when you don’t want the cattle to come and go from here as they want, or to keep the snow from blowing in?”

  Instead of answering, Travis walked to the wall between the door to the chicken coop and the opening of the lean-to. He pushed one of two buttons. There was a click and an electronic whirr, and then the doors from either side of the opening to the field began to slide closed, meeting in the middle with a soft thump. There was a questioning squawk from a sleep-disrupted chicken in the other room, then silence.

  Wesley turned toward him, and Travis couldn’t tell if the look in his eyes was impressed or accusatory.

  “You know, you all can tease me about my fancy clothes and running gear all you want, but I’ve got nothing on you. I feel like I’m on the farm version of MTV’s Cribs.”

  Travis couldn’t suppress a grimace. “I never watched MTV.”

  “Can’t say that surprises me. I’m just saying that you’re the fancy one.”

  “Actually most of this stuff, the fancy stuff, at any rate, was all given to me from the companies we deal with at the feedstore. I guess they figure if they give me their products and I like them, I’ll tell the folks that come in the store.”

  Wesley glanced at him, then turned his attention back to the barn. “Well, whatever the cause, it’s pretty amazing. I can’t imagine that there’ll be that kind of throwback from the suppliers of vet clinics, but I guess I’ll find out. Maybe some free pet food or something.”

  Travis hit the button once more. This time a greater number of chickens let their annoyance be heard. “It’s too pretty a night to have those closed. Another week or two, and we wouldn’t be able to be out here without bundling up first. Kinda chilly already, actually.”

  “I like it—makes me excited for Christmas.”

  Travis could feel Wesley watching him but didn’t look away from the dark horizon showing through the trough. “You shoulda brought your dog with ya tonight.”

  Wesley took a moment in responding. “I, uh, don’t have a dog.”

  Travis turned toward him. “You don’t got a dog? Please don’t tell me you’re a cat person.”

  Wesley laughed. Not in the same way he had with Caleb less than ten minutes ago, but laughed nonetheless. “No. No cat. No pets at all.”

  “You’re a vet. How do you not have a dog or something?”

  “I had a dog a couple of years ago, I just….” Wesley suddenly looked nervous. “I don’t think you want to hear this story.”

  “Oh. Did he get sick like Dunkyn?” The night seemed even colder suddenly. “Cancer?”

  “Oh no. Nothing like that.” Wesley reached out and gripped Travis’s shoulder, then whipped his hand back when he realized what he’d done. “Ah, sorry about that. And, no. No cancer. Nothing like that. My ex, Todd, and I had two dogs.” He paused again. “You sure you don’t mind hearing this?”

  “Just because I said fag doesn’t mean I’m a homophobe.” Travis shrugged. “I’m just an ass sometimes.”

  Wesley’s laugh was a little more like the one Travis had heard before he’d interrupted the vet and his son. “Point taken. But, not even because of that. Sometimes, it’s one thing to know a person is gay in abstract, and a different thing when you hear details.”

  Travis forced a smile. “I’m not sure about all the abstract or not. Wasn’t trying to get into psychology or anything. Just tell me the damned story already.”

  Wesley inspected him, as if trying to determine if Travis was irritated or not.

  “Like I said, I’m an ass. Don’t read into it. Tell me why you don’t have a dog, Dr. Ry—Wesley.”

  “Okay, then. Like I said. Todd and I broke up about two years ago. We lived together. He took the house. It had been his before we started dating. And he took the dogs, Gucci and Prada. The breakup was hard enough, but losing the dogs too…. Losing all three of them at once. I guess it was good that he kept the dogs. I, uh, well, I wouldn’t have been that good a daddy to them afterward.”

  Again words failed Travis. What was the right thing to ask? Was he supposed to say he was sorry, see if Wesley was okay? “What kinda dogs?”

  Wesley peered at him, maybe trying to see if he was serious. “Toy poodles.”

  Travis grimaced again. “I thought you said they were dogs.”

  Wesley laughed. A real laugh. Travis almost looked around to see if someone else had entered the barn to elicit such a response. When Wesley settled, his brown eyes met Travis’s, and they held on—longer than they should have, long enough that Travis should have looked away, long enough that it should have made things uncomfortable.

  It didn’t.

  And then, it did. Wesley’s eyes widened in surprise, and he looked away, a flush rising to his cheeks.

  Travis searched for words once more, trying to fix it. Help me, Shannon. You’re the one who made me promise. Fucking help me. “How long were you and your ex-boyfr—how long were you and Todd together?”

  “A little over nine years. We were together the whole time I was trying to get into veterinary school, interning at the zoo, all the way through to where I was getting ready to open my own clinic close to our house.” Wesley’s face darkened. “All the way through till our life was supposed to settle down, really start.”

  “Why’d he leave? Was there cheating?”

  “Yes and no. We were open, so not cheating
like that, but he found someone he wanted to replace me with, I guess you could say.”

  Travis scowled again, though he tried not to. He was trying to not pass judgment. “You and he were open? As in, you were dating other people?”

  “Are you sure you want to hear all this?”

  “Sorry, Wesley. I wasn’t trying to pry. You don’t have to explain.” Travis began to turn around. It was time to bring this to a close anyway. What the fuck had he been thinking?

  Wesley reached out and grabbed his arm once more, this time not releasing his grip until Travis looked back. “Actually it’s fine. It feels good to talk to someone else about him. And, as far as your question, I wouldn’t say we dated other people, just messed around if the need arose, as long as we were safe.” A bitter laugh escaped. “Although I guess dating around was exactly what Todd was doing.”

  “I can’t imagine that. If anyone had ever touched Shannon, I’d have killed them.” Even the thought of that, with her gone four years, caused anger to flow through him.

  Wesley relaxed, leaning against the boards of the trough once more. “How long were you and Shannon together?”

  The question surprised Travis, making the anger leave in an instant. When was the last time anyone had asked about Shannon and him? There were endless questions about how he was doing and how the kids were getting along, but never anything about her.

  “You don’t have to answer that. Sorry. I know a breakup and what you went through aren’t the same thing.”

  Travis reached out, fearing Wesley might walk away. He tried to ignore the desperation he felt in the gesture. “No. It’s not that. I just haven’t talked about her in forever. At least not like this.”

  “You want to?”

  “Yeah.” Travis nodded and felt his eyes burn. Luckily he didn’t cry anymore. Outside the barn door had been a fluke. “We were married for sixteen years, but we’d met way before then. Just like Caleb told you, I met Shannon in high school. We were juniors.” He realized he’d just outed himself, that he’d admitted he’d been eavesdropping. Wesley didn’t let on. “We got married when we were twenty-two, same year we graduated from college, and moved here. She wanted to be near her folks.”

  Wesley waited when Travis stopped talking. When Travis didn’t speak again, Wesley spoke softly, barely more than a whisper. “Do you want to talk more about her?”

  Travis nodded again, feeling stupid at not being able to just keep speaking.

  Maybe understanding what Travis needed, Wesley only waited a few more moments before beginning to learn about Travis’s wife. “How long ago did she pass?”

  “Four years.” That fucking burning in his eyes. Did his voice just tremble?

  “How long was she sick?”

  Travis’s brows knitted. Had he said something? Maybe during Dunkyn’s surgery?

  “Wendy told me.”

  “Oh.” Travis took a deep breath, or at least tried to. “Two years. Kinda. The cancer came right after the twins were born. They said they got it all. Said she was good. Clean. She wasn’t. Shannon died right before their second birthday.” More burning. And was his throat clenching up?

  Travis looked toward the barn doors, suddenly realizing how much he’d said. No one there. He glanced back to the house. Only the kitchen and living room lights were on, and Caleb’s.

  The twins were asleep.

  He looked back at Wesley. “The kids don’t know that. Not even Caleb. I don’t want them to ever think it was their fault.”

  Wesley didn’t even look confused, understanding the unspoken. “I will never say a thing. So the cancer…. Shannon’s cancer was caused by the pregnancy?”

  “Choriocarcinoma.” Big word. He hadn’t even been able to say it correctly at the beginning. Ugly word. Now it spun around in his brain when he slept, the dark letters forming, swirling, then reforming in his mind. Fucking word. “You know about it?”

  Again Wesley’s voice was so soft. So warm and kind. Like Shannon’s, but nothing like Shannon’s. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. But it’s okay. I understand what it means, for the most part.”

  “She lost her hair.” Why had he said that? What the fuck did that matter?

  Silence.

  Painful, but not awkward.

  “What was she like?”

  Travis almost flinched at the question, but didn’t. How could this man not know what Shannon had been like? The whole world should know, should feel her absence. To this man, to Dr. Ryan, to Wesley, it was like Shannon had never even existed. How was that even possible?

  The burn went away as he spoke. The hands around his throat loosened. The whispers in his ears increased. “She was…. Shannon was so… alive. She was so many things—beautiful, funny, smart. But mostly, she was alive.”

  Travis met Wesley’s gaze, and the vet didn’t look away, only nodded in encouragement.

  “She was like her hair. She was on fire. All the time. Either laughing loudly or mad. Man, that woman had a temper.” Travis laughed. The whispers laughed with him. “Everyone loved her. Everyone. She was the town sweetheart. She’d grown up here. She taught Ag at the high school, at least up to that last year. Helped out with the babies at church too. At the church where Wendy takes the kids now. I never went. Still don’t.”

  What could he tell the man so that he’d see her? So that he’d know Shannon? So that he’d miss her too? “She was strong. Brave. She’d fight with everything in her. Always looking out for the loser. Caleb got that from her. Always looking out for me. No matter what I did or what I was. She fought with me and for me.”

  Why was the barn still standing? Why weren’t stars crashing around them outside? Why was he still here?

  “She was my best friend.”

  A tear fell from the brown eyes that looked at him, slowly making its way down the recently shaved cheek.

  Travis always got angry when someone outside the family cried about Shannon. Sure everyone had loved her. But she’d been his. She’d been the kids’. No one else’s.

  He felt a tear tracing a path down his own stubbled cheek, or maybe it was just a ghost tracing the path he saw on the other man’s face.

  “She gave me Dunkyn.”

  They stood less than two feet apart, the modernized barn bright around them and the glow of the house Shannon had redesigned visible through the wide doorway of the barn.

  The roosting chickens were tucked away for the night. A herd of red Limousin cattle was sleeping in the tree-speckled field.

  The early November evening wind swirled the browning leaves.

  A grave with a smoothed-out moniker lay at peace across town.

  Whispers soothed, just out of earshot. Two more tears fell.

  The stars remained in their places. The barn stood strong.

  Four-year-old promises came due.

  “You made Caleb laugh.”

  Wesley didn’t respond, the shift from mother to son too abrupt to follow.

  “He laughs, of course. With Wendy. With the kids. Sometimes with me. But he sounds like a man when he laughs. Like a man who has to hold his family together. Who lost his innocence too long ago.” Travis couldn’t deny the tear that fell this time was his. It was definitely his. “He laughed like a child tonight. I heard my boy laugh. It sounded like hope, like he might believe there is more for him than just the twins and this town. More than opossums in the chicken coop. More than his fucked-up father.”

  Travis grabbed both of Wesley’s arms, squeezing his shoulders so tight it probably hurt.

  Wesley didn’t flinch; nor was he startled. He just looked into Travis’s eyes.

  Travis held him still. He didn’t inspect Wesley’s face, didn’t let his gaze wander over the man’s body, didn’t ask for permission—neither Wesley’s nor his own.

  He pulled Wesley to him, one hand traveling up Wesley’s shoulder and around the back of his neck, pulling the man’s face nearer.

  Travis felt Wesley flinch when their lips met, but only for a mo
ment before he gave in.

  There wasn’t electricity or fire. Only pressure and warmth. He held Wesley there, their lips pressed together.

  Wesley’s fingers grazed over Travis’s shoulders, touching, darting away, then returning. They slid up his neck, and then a hand held his cheek. Fingers long and smooth and strong rested on either side of his ear. A warm palm pressed against his stubble.

  A groan broke the silence. It sounded of surprise and sadness. It sounded of relief. It was gone before Travis realized it had come from him.

  The hand still held his face while an arm passed over his shoulder and down his back, pulling Travis closer.

  At the pressure of Wesley’s body against his, Travis released his hold on Wesley’s neck and shoulders, wrapping his arms around the other man’s back, crushing Wesley to him.

  Then the kiss was more than pressure. More than warmth.

  They pressed up against the planks of the trough.

  Another groan. Maybe more than one.

  Travis felt his own strength as he held Wesley’s hard body to him, and was surprised at the power of the arms that encircled him.

  For just a moment, Travis’s eyes flitted open, as if he had to be convinced this was real and not another delusional dream. It was real. And though he could hear her whisper, it was not Shannon kissing him back. He’d known it wasn’t, hadn’t expected it to be.

  He let his eyes close again. He didn’t pull away as he felt himself harden against the other man. Against Wesley.

  Wesley’s lips parted, and Travis let his tongue caress the opening before deepening into the kiss.

  His fingers sank into soft hair, short at the base but longer as his hand rose on the back of Wesley’s head, desperately pulling him closer.

  They kissed.

  Animals slept.

  They kissed.

  The barn continued to stand.

  They kissed.

  Maybe a few stars fell.

  Chapter Eleven