Passing to Payton Page 3

  Payton propped himself up on a pillow against the wall and eyed the plain brown shipping box. “What’s that?”

  Jamie sat on the bed and handed over the box. “Your actual birthday present. Sorry it’s not wrapped, but it didn’t get here until two days ago.”

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” Payton argued half-heartedly, his fingers opening the flaps on the top of the box. He reached in, lifted the Blu-ray set out and that boyish grin made a comeback. “Dude! This is that whole World War One history series I missed!”

  “I know,” Jamie blushed. “You cried about it for days after you realized Tucker recorded over it with his addiction to wrestling.”

  “I did not cry! Okay, maybe a little... Man, this is great. Thanks.”

  Seeing Payton so happy filled Jamie’s heart with warmth, and also with a feeling he wasn’t quite ready to admit. Pushing that aside for a later, he focused on the current forward motion he was making with Payton. Taking it one play at a time, Couch would say, is how you win football games. Jamie figured it probably worked for relationships, too. “Glad you like it.”

  “I love it.” Setting the box aside, Payton opened his arms. “Sorry, man, but I’m a cuddle-after-sex kinda guy.”

  Could it get any more perfect? Jamie crawled into the big man’s arms. “Fine by me,” he exhaled, truly happy, but not without a tiny tremor of anxiety. “So, are you really ready to come out to the rest of the team? Because if you’re not-”

  “I’m not hiding us,” Payton said, his arms tightening their hold. “I mean, I like the thought of us, you know? We were friends, and now we’re boyfriends. So, the rest of the team can just deal with it.”

  “Boyfriends. I like that.”

  “Yeah? I ain’t never had one before, but it feels right with you. Dang, is that weird for me to say?”

  Jamie smiled against Payton’s chest. “Nah, man. Not at all.”

  “I’m a bit nervous, honestly,” Payton admitted. “But, tonight is my birthday, and I plan on walking into Taters with your hand in mine, and I don’t care who might have a problem with it.”

  Jamie snorted. “Why Taters?”

  “Tucker’s idea,” Payton chuckled. “His sister works there, and she promised him they wouldn’t have a problem celebrating a gay man’s birthday.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, especially after we just secured the Sooners’ spot in the Cotton Bowl.” Payton’s hand coasted down Jamie’s back. “People are coming around, I think. Maybe they realize there ain’t no sense in denying people happiness, you know?”

  “I think we’ve got a long way to go,” Jamie sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into Payton’s comforting embrace. “But I do think things are changing. Well, mostly. Peterson will probably always be a douche.”

  “David ‘The Douche’ Peterson,” Payton laughed. “Has a nice ring to it. Maybe we can get a jersey made up for him.”

  Jamie groaned a bit. “I don’t feel like dealing with his negativity tonight.”

  “Won’t have to.”

  “What? You didn’t invite him?”

  Payton held in a chuckle that caused his chest to vibrate. “Oh, we did. Tucker told him we were meeting at eight-thirty... At Stonewall.”

  “Stonewall? But... It’s ‘gay techno night’ at... Oh... Wow, that’s harsh.” But the idea had Jamie nearly doubled over in Payton’s arms as they both laughed.

  “Don’t worry. Tucker and LeBron are gonna stop by and see if he’s ready to play nice... Heck, who knows? Maybe he’ll find some pretty boy to set him straight.”

  “They may also find him curled up in a ball in the corner, whimpering about fags in short-shorts.”

  “And if that happens,” Payton shrugged, “Tucker promised to take a picture of it for us. Now,” Payton’s hand skimmed down Jamie’s backside to squeeze his ass. “How about that shower?”

  Thank you for reading Jamie and Payton’s story! For more great and free reads, visit cekilgore.com

  If you enjoyed this story, you may also enjoy reading the following.

  Sometimes moving forward means going right back where you started…

  Sam’s ended up right back where he started – the small Texas town he swore he’d never step foot in again after making fast tracks to SMU. He’s not the young, gay kid he was when he left. He has a music degree now, with no job and is about to lose his dorm room…

  When an old friend has him coming back to where he started, Sam struggles to deal with muddled memories and an unexpected reality. Things in Alvarado aren’t exactly how he remembers them, and neither is his arch nemesis Cody Greene.

  The two men get stuck together by a promise, and the bitter memories that Sam had held onto for five years begin to unravel. When the dust settles, Sam and Cody have to decide if they can let go of the past to build a future.

  Right Back Where is a gay (m/m) romance set in Alvarado, Texas. Although part of a series set in Alvarado, it is a stand-alone story with a HEA and no cliffhangers. It deals with subject matter that may be offensive to some readers including bigotry, homosexuality, and yes – two men kissing. It’s also a story about hope, how a whole town can be changed by one event or one person, and that love at first sight can happen, even if you’re blind to it for a very long time.

  If an uplifting story about romance, laughter and overcoming preconceptions in a small Texas town sounds like your cup of tea, then welcome to Alvarado!

  * * *

  Where to Get It:

  Goodreads | Amazon Print | Amazon eBook

  * * *

  Read the first chapter:

  Right Back Where

  Five years later, almost to the very day, I’ve ended up right back where I started – the city limits of Alvarado, Texas. Staring at the wooden sign welcoming folks to the oldest town in Johnson County, it takes me a second to accept that I’m actually here – that I’ve actually come back to the place I swore to never step foot in again. It’s like the damn nightmare I used to wake up in cold sweats from those first weeks of my freshman year at SMU.

  The terror of finding myself right back where I started, like I’d never even left.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. I’m damn sure not the same eighteen-year-old boy that’d gotten on the bus two days before high school graduation and never looked out the back window. Okay, so I’m still too damn skinny, a bit on the short side and my blond hair never matured enough to let me grow a beard. But, I’m an adult, standing on my own two feet with a university degree in music education.

  That should mean something to help ease these damn nerves, right? Apparently not. I’m not sure that a small town like Alvarado cares about my degree, or that I’m an adult. No, I’m pretty sure the people living beyond this welcome sign don’t care about anything but farming, football and faggot-tipping.

  No one had five years ago, so why should now be any different?

  No one had, except Mrs. Greene. That woman is the sole reason I find myself parked off on the shoulder and staring at that damn painted sign which reads ‘Welcome to Alvarado!’ …Unless you’re gay… Okay, so that last part isn’t on there, but I’m sure it’s in the fine print somewhere.

  A car-horn blares as gravel crunches, startling me so much I tap the gas pedal, sending my used, silver Civic lurching forward. What the fuck? I’m not blocking traffic…

  Glancing up, I watch a red, beat-up pickup truck with oversized tires pulling alongside my car. Oh, this is wonderful. Not even inside the town limits yet, and I get the redneck welcoming party. Maybe if I don’t make eye contact- shit... The guy’s rolled down his window and is looking at me expectantly. With a deep inhale and a small prayer, I lower my window.

  “Afternoon, son,” the man’s Texas drawl is as heavy as the double-chin he’s sporting, but his smile is friendly and familiar. “You lost?”

  “No, sir.” I do my best to return the smile, but I can feel my lips twitching with apprehension. Yeah, I know not everyone is a countr
y-born asshole, but I’ve had a whole adolescence filled with bad memories to justify my caution. “Just taking a moment to get my bearings. Sorry if I’m in the way.”

  “Not a problem…” The man’s voice trails off as one eye squints at me. “Wait a dang minute… Samuel Garrett, is that you?”

  Fuck. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, shoot, boy! Ain’t seen you ’round these parts in… Gosh, five years now, I reckon? You headin’ up to your dad’s property?”

  “No sir,” an exhale releases as my brain finally puts a name with the man’s face. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Matthews, but I haven’t spoken to my dad in a long time.”

  “Oh, right.” The smile on David Matthews’s face falters. “He don’t rightly talk much ’bout it, though I reckon you may wanna take a drive out there. The property’s seen better days. ‘Course, not like it’s ever been quite the same since your momma passed.”

  “No sir, it hasn’t.”

  Then, silence. I’m not exactly sure what else to say after that. David was a nice enough guy growing up, but after the big explosion, it was hard to tell who might hug you, or who might tie you to their bumper and drag you through town.

  “Sam,” David starts then huffs out a heavy breath. “Look, son, about that night… Yer dad, he- Well, he’s a sour old goat sometimes, but folks have let it pass. Like water under a bridge, you know? It’s been five years. Maybe you oughtta go see him?”

  “Maybe I ought to, but sometimes the water takes the bridge with it.”

  “Amen to that,” David nods, goes quiet for a moment then slaps the outside of his truck door. “Well, it’s good to see you, anyhow. Bet some folks’ll be real glad you’re back.”

  I have to bite back an argument to that and command my lips to smile instead. “Not staying long. I’m just here to visit Mrs. Greene for a few days.”

  David’s hand flattens against the rusted metal. “What? Damn, son, I… I figured you already knew. Rosie done passed three nights ago. Her funeral’s tomorrow at Blessed Savior. Ain’t that why yer here?”

  “But,” it couldn’t be true. “I talked to her on the phone last week.” The words come out slowly, salted and thick. “She sounded better. I told her I was coming. That’s why I came!”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. The cancer finally won out, real sudden like. Cody’s been walkin’ ’round town in a daze, though I don’t reckon it’s really hit him yet. Shoot, you should go see that boy. He could use a friend right now.”

  Friend? In what fucked up universe are Cody and me friends? Hell, that asshole is one of the reasons I left Alvarado in the first place! Mrs. Greene deserved better than to have some bigoted, ungrateful shit-stick for a son. “I came to see Mrs. Greene, but if she’s gone…” What the fuck am I doing here?

  “Well, like I said, funeral’s tomorrow ’round ten at Blessed Savior. Why not stick around and pay your respects? You got a place to stay?”

  Stay? What’s the point in staying? My mouth answers anyway. “No, sir. Was thinking of the Super Eight in Midlothian.”

  “Oh? Well, Julie Anne Kent opened up a new bed n’ breakfast on Johnson Creek, called The Pleasant Peach. I’m sure she’d have a room available and would appreciate the business.”

  “Julie?” For real? She was supposed to run outta town just as quick as I had.

  “Yup, though she’ll be Julie Anne Moore by end of the summer!”

  “Moore… As in Kyle Moore?” What the hell? Kyle had planned to never come back, too.

  “You got it! He manages the Tom Thumb now and coaches tee-ball on weekends. Damn, son, you’ve got a lot ta’ catch up on! I know Rosie’d want you ta’ stick around fer a spell, at least say hi to everyone.”

  Dammit. He’s right. Sticking around for the funeral and paying my respects is the least I can do for Mrs. Greene. I owe that woman more than I could ever hope to pay back, and now it seems I’ll never even get the chance to try.

  “Alright.” The word comes out slow. Don’t think my brain is quite done processing the idea I’ll be going to Mrs. Greene’s funeral tomorrow instead of taking her out to lunch like I’d planned. “Thanks, Mr. Matthews.”

  “Aw, Dave’s fine. I’ll see you at the service tomorrow, then?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then maybe we could head out to yer dad’s for a bit?”

  The visual of a less than wanted reunion pops into my head. It includes a cold stare, some choice words and the possibility of a flying beer bottle. Yeah, I think I’ll pass, thanks. “We’ll see.”

  “A’ight. Oh, here.” He hands me a business card from the front pocket of a button up shirt that’s had the arms cut off and is now fraying around the shoulders. “My cell number’s on that. Call me if you get into any trouble, ya’hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” I take the dirt-stained card, because not doing so would be rude. Guess he’s still doing work with my dad, because both their names are on the card. Dave Mathews and Daniel Garrett – D&D Handyman Services Ltd. I wonder if poor Dave is still doing most of the work while my dad drinks away his nights and sleeps all day.

  “But, don’t go stayin’ outta trouble on my account,” he chuckles, his hand slapping against his door again. “See ya!” His diesel engine rumbles to carry him down the road as his big tires and oversized tailpipe leave behind a cloud.

  After the gravel dust settles, I’m left alone to stare at the wooden welcome sign without a good reason for being here. The one good reason had been replaced in a heartbeat by a sad one. The reality of it leaves me breathless – the extreme difference just one week could make. One week between a warm, friendly voice on the phone and a deafening, irreparable silence.

  What could five years have changed? It’s so hard to see past the thorn bushes in my memory and hope that perhaps Alvarado was different than I remembered. How fogged could the mind of a hurt, angst-filled teenager have been? Is finding out worth not making a u-turn?

  Worth heading forwards instead of backwards?

  A trilling vibration beeping from my hip brings those unsettling thoughts to a close. Not recognizing the number on my phone but recognizing the area-code, I have to wonder just how fast news of my arrival had spread. Dave always was a bit of a social-butterfly.

  With a deep, calming breath, I swipe the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” an elderly male voice on the other end answers. “May I speak with Mr. Samuel J. Garrett, please?”

  “Speaking,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. When the hell did telemarketers start outsourcing to retirement homes instead of overseas? Totally not in the mood to tell off some nice old guy for trying to sell me a cruise. God knows, my karma probably doesn’t need the negativity boost, either.

  “Ah, wonderful,” the man’s voice warms into a more familiar tone. “You probably don’t remember me, Sam, but this is Mr. Eves from Eves and MacCarthy attorney’s office, uh, here in Alvarado? I handled your mother’s estate, but of course you were so young at the time, and your father-”

  “I remember you, Mr. Eves.” Vaguely…

  “Ah, good. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. Mrs. Rosalie Greene passed away recently.”

  “I just found that out. I had spoken to her on the phone just last week,” and I’m dazed by the news for a second time. It’s going to take a long time for it to all sink in.

  “Yes,” Mr. Eves’ tone goes somber. “It was a sudden turn. Sad, after all the hoping and praying this town did for her recovery. But, I suppose when God really wants one of his angels back…” He lets out a soft sigh then clears his throat. “Anyhow, I’m now handling the Greene estate.”

  Not sure where this is going, I wait a few seconds for him to continue then fill in the awkward silence. “Oh?”

  A shuffling of paperwork on the other end is the response, then “Sorry, just… Ah! Here it is. Now, her funeral is tomorrow, and I know it’s a few hours’ drive for you, but-”

  “I’m in Alvarado.”

  “
What? Oh, you are?” The shocked surprise is… well, no surprise.

  Deep breath… “I was coming to visit Mrs. Greene.”

  “Oh, that’s good then,” Mr. Eves pauses then clears his throat again. “I mean, it’s good that you’re here, though I wish the circumstances were better. Would you be able to come by my office after the funeral?”

  The heck? Maybe Dad’s estate is worse off than I thought… Figures, it’d fall on my head to clean up whatever mess he’s got himself into again. “I guess. May I ask what for?”

  “For the will reading. You’re in it.”

  “I…” But my throat swells, choking my response to a hoarse sputter. “I am?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  That can’t be right. “Sh-shouldn’t it all just go to Cody?”

  “He’ll be there, too.”

  Fuck. My head taps back against the car seat. Of course Cody will be there. And the funeral. And, since you can’t spit in this town without hitting both sides of the tracks, chances are high I’m gonna run into Cody eventually.

  “Sam?”

  “Hmm? Oh,” well, shit. What can I do? Deny Mrs. Greene her final wishes? Never. “I’ll be there, Mr. Eves.”

  After writing down the office’s address, which is just a stone’s throw from the Blessed Savior church, I put the Civic back into drive and head into town. The first thing I notice is the new Dollar General, followed by a Taco Bell not yet open. Looks like the high school kids no longer have an excuse for late-night trips to Midlothian, other than toilet-papering the lawns of rival teams.

  Despite the new builds, the main street going through the heart of ‘downtown’ remains beautifully picturesque, like one of those old 1950’s Home and Gardens magazines. Historical buildings. Wide, flower-bedded avenues. Well-kept storefronts and lawns. No big box stores. Just a few fast-food restaurants and recognizable name-brand stores littered amongst shops still run by the same families for a few generations. The hardware store may say ACE on the front, but everyone calls it the Fields’ Five & Dime, since the Fields family has owned and operated it since 1927.