They both looked like they’d been dragged behind a tractor, and trudging through the airport in Houston didn’t help either of them. As they sat waiting for the connection, they watched the local news about the heroic tiger outside of Austin and sank lower in their seats. After the news story was over, the man beside Ty joked about his bandages, asking him if he’d been mauled by a tiger too.
Ty managed a smile as the stranger chuckled, then gave Zane a look that said if they didn’t move he was going to end up with blood on his hands.
The rest of the flight home was uneventful. It was dark and quiet as Zane drove up the last mountain road before they got to the Grady’s winding driveway.
Ty kept glancing over at him, as if he wanted to ask if he was okay but already knew the answer. He gave Zane directions instead. Zane pulled the rental beside the old truck in the gravel driveway and turned off the car. They sat in the darkness, the engine clicking as the silence settled over them.
Ty cleared his throat. “Should we tell them about the shooting and violence and tigers, or just stick to the basics?”
Zane rubbed his thigh. He could feel bruises and strained muscles all over his body, little bangs and cuts that you never noticed when you were scrambling for dear life. Ty looked and probably felt even worse. Zane sighed and pointed at Ty’s brand new cast and the sling he now wore because of the gunshot to his shoulder. “They’ll figure it out anyway.”
“Alrighty,” Ty said. He unbuckled, but stopped and glanced at Zane again before getting out of the car. “Tell me something, Zane.”
Zane stared at him in the darkness, wallowing in the relief of simply being with Ty. “Anything.”
“Was it you or Mark who shot me?”
Zane bit his lip, trying not to smile. “Totally Mark.”
Ty narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled and leaned over for a quick kiss. Zane couldn’t help but laugh. He had a feeling Ty knew he was lying. It was one lie he didn’t mind paying for later.
Ty lingered over the kiss for another moment, then pressed their foreheads together. Calm settled over Zane, and then Ty pulled away and slid out of the car. As soon as the car door shut, the porch light came on and the front door of the house opened.
Zane waited for the anxiety to strike, but it never came. He was happy to be here, and the relief was overwhelming. Even the uneasiness between himself and Earl didn’t register as important anymore.
He opened the door to climb out of the car, stifling a groan as the stitches in his thigh pulled.
Earl stood on the top step. “You boys look like something the cat dragged in.”
“The cat jokes lost their luster a while ago, Dad.”
“Not ’round here they didn’t.”
“Wait ’til he hears about the tiger,” Zane muttered.
Ty laughed, not even trying to stop himself. Zane grinned, falling victim to Ty’s infectious laughter and beginning to chuckle. Suddenly, it all seemed funny.
Ty was still snickering as he trudged up the steps. Earl offered his hand to Ty in greeting, but Ty bypassed it and hugged his father instead. Earl looked shocked for a moment, but he hastily returned it, gingerly patting Ty on the back at first, and then truly embracing his son.
Zane merely smiled as he watched. Mara came out just as Ty let Earl go, and she shouldered past Earl and pulled Ty into another hug. Ty gave a pitiful cry as she grabbed his arm.
“Oh my good gracious, what happened?” She took Ty’s face in her hands, then turned her sharp eyes to Zane. “You too! What did you do to yourselves?”
“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.
Zane shook his head. He would just have to come to terms with the fact that he would always play second fiddle to killer felines.
“Oh God, it’s good to be home,” Ty said with a groan as he eased himself onto the couch and sprawled. Zane sat next to him with a sigh. They were both so banged up it was nearly impossible to do anything but lean against each other. Ty pressed his lips to Zane’s temple. “You want to talk about it?”
Zane stared at the room around them. They’d already made so many memories here, some of them stored in photos and trinkets, others only residing in Zane’s mind. It was a life he’d never expected to have, colorful and easy and bright. He shook his head. “I just keep wondering . . . would I have been like her? If Becky hadn’t died, if you hadn’t . . .”
“Zane.”
“Would I have turned into her, Ty? Would that have been me?”
Ty wrapped his arm around Zane’s shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Zane. There are . . . there are so many paths in life. Some we choose, and some are chosen for us. We walk our paths without looking down and that’s the life we lead. The only things you’ll get from guessing where another path would have gone are questions you can’t answer and heartache you can’t ever soothe.”
Zane met Ty’s eyes, gazing at him as a sense of calm seeped into his bones. He smiled. “You’re like a damn walking fortune cookie, you know that?”
Ty smiled, and Zane kissed him. He was right; it was good to be home.
Ty broke the kiss with a gasp when it got too heated for his injuries. He hummed and cocked his head. “Do you hear the cats?”
“No, actually.”
Ty sat up and called for Smith and Wesson again, then got up and headed for the stairs, looking up and frowning. Usually when the door opened, the cats came running. If it was Ty, they would swarm his legs, rubbing against him, purring so loudly they seemed to vibrate the floor. If it was Zane, they would both sit down to stare at him disapprovingly. They would watch him as he moved around the house, growling or hissing if he came too close to one of Ty’s things, and they wouldn’t leave him unattended until Ty got home.
It was odd that they hadn’t come when Ty’d called the first time. Even more so that they’d allowed Zane to cuddle with Ty on the couch for that long without trying to bleed him dry.
Ty headed for the basement door, but he stopped short when he passed the kitchen counter. He picked up a manila envelope and his breath caught.
“What is it?” Zane asked. He stood and followed. A sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he watched Ty’s expression fall.
Ty shook his head and cleared his throat. “It’s from Cross. He says thanks for watching his boys. He came and got them.” Ty pressed his lips together hard as he read the rest of the note.
“Oh, Ty,” Zane said as he moved closer. He put his arm around Ty’s shoulder and hugged him. He had dreaded this day, knowing it would break Ty’s heart when those stupid, scheming, evil cats were gone.
Ty nodded, still looking at the note on the envelope. Zane thought he might be fighting back tears. First, he’d had to leave Barnum behind, and now Smith and Wesson were gone too.
“What’s inside?” Zane whispered.
Ty shook his head and handed the package to Zane. Zane squeezed his shoulder before taking it and reading the rest. Cross’s note was longer than the original he’d scribbled when he’d left Smith and Wesson and a bowl of cat food in Ty’s kitchen. The prose was odd and stilted, but it didn’t strike Zane as unusual for Julian Cross. That was the way the man spoke. He’d thanked them for treating the cats well, wished them both the best in life, and apologized for taking so long. He ended by saying, “Nice car.”