Easy laughs roll through the crowd.

  “I wanted to take this opportunity to let you know that I’m stepping down from my position at WISP. This organization means so much to me. Intimate-partner violence is a silent epidemic in our country, and it touches people in every walk of life. Some of you may know that I grew up in a home where intimate-partner violence was accepted as the norm, and you may have heard me talk before about how that shaped me, how it affected my relationships as an adult, and why it’s so important that we provide resources and education and support so that nobody else has to go through that.”

  Unexpected applause makes me stop.

  “For the last year, WISP has been a critical part of who I am, and I’ve devoted time and energy to getting it up and running as best I can. But I also know my limitations. WISP needs leaders who can take it to the next level. So, I’m pleased to tell you that the new directors of WISP are here with us tonight. If you’ve lived in this town long enough, you know Maggie Grober, and you’ve probably given her some of your money.” Another laugh ripples through the room. “Maggie’s the one who made tonight possible. Well, Maggie and my boyfriend, Sam.”

  Foley, the dumb fuck, cheers.

  The laugh is deeper this time, longer, and when I glance over, Sam’s face is red, but he’s smiling.

  “God damn it, Foley,” I say, and it’s like something has broken, some wall between me and them, or between all of us, and all of a sudden I’m about to cry. Somehow, I manage to say, “I’m sure many of you also know June Louise Nelson, who is the behind-the-scenes genius of a lot of the important work that happens in this town. I’m grateful to Dr. Jordan for introducing me to them, and I’m thrilled that they’re willing to take on the responsibility of helping WISP continue to grow and impact lives in our area. Thank you again for your support tonight. I know as we all work together, we can put an end to intimate-partner violence.”

  Clapping. Cheers. Somebody’s thumping a table—probably Foley again.

  I don’t even remember moving, but now I’m sitting next to Sam, and he’s crushing my hand in his, but it’s happiness, and I’m still trying not to cry.

  “You did great,” Sam whispers into my ear, and then he kisses my cheek.

  And the cheers double.

  It takes a while for everyone to settle down, and I’m so worked up that I can’t keep up with what’s being said as Maggie and June Louise introduce themselves. I do hear them mention that I’ll be continuing to work with WISP in an advisory capacity—none of us knows what that means, but it’s kind of them to say that, and I’m grateful they’ve left a door open for me, even though they know it’ll hurt their chances with people like Ben Fields.

  I’m still riding that crest of adrenaline when I catch the end of Aiyana’s remarks. “—time to eat. Bon appétit, and please don’t forget about the silent auction.”

  We all shake hands and say polite things before we move down to our tables. Sammy put us with Emery and John-Henry, big surprise, along with their friends Theo and Auggie.

  And Emery’s not even trying to keep his voice down as we reach the table. “—paid a hundred dollars a plate for lukewarm salmonella.”

  “You had your wedding reception here,” I say as we take our seats. “What the fuck are you complaining about?”

  Emery glares.

  Auggie, this goddamn gorgeous twink, is looking at Theo like he’s asking his daddy for a treat. “Please, Theo, I won’t say anything or do anything or—or anything. But this stuff is gold.”

  Theo doubles down on the daddy vibes by giving Auggie a look, and then he says, “That was a moving speech, Gray.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “We had our wedding reception here,” Emery says, “but we used outside caterers.”

  “No,” John-Henry says, “we didn’t.”

  Emery’s face is pure betrayal.

  “He’s very excited to be here,” John-Henry says. “He changed outfits twice.”

  “No, I surely fucking did not!”

  At that point, Auggie’s trying to hide his phone next to him so he can record. Theo’s pretty discreet about it when he puts his hand on the phone and pushes it down.

  Fortunately, the wait staff begins to bring out the food. It’s not plates of lukewarm salmonella; it’s decent, the kind of stuff you’d expect—a garden salad, chicken in some sort of white wine sauce, droopy asparagus. I hold one by the end, and it looks just like a limp dick, and Emery’s face gets redder and redder.

  It’s too easy sometimes.

  “They’re all homosexuals.” Sam’s gran is leading June Louise through the tables. Gran’s had a perm done, and she’s wearing a pink caftan that clashes with her red hair. “The whole lot of them.” She sounds a bit unsure, though, as she adds, “Except for the bis.”

  Sam groans.

  “What the ever-loving fuck?” Emery asks. And not quietly.

  “Ree,” John-Henry says.

  “Sammy,” Gran says as she swoops in to kiss him on the cheek. “You look so handsome. And Gray, oh my Lord, you’re a dream. And you made me cry, too!” That’s when I get a kiss on the cheek.

  Auggie’s trying to get his phone up again.

  There’s this website called DaddySpankz, and I decide I’m going to send it to Theo.

  I’m so caught up in this thought that I almost miss the fact that June Louise is bussing Emery’s cheek, and Emery’s face is scarlet.

  “Hello, Miss June,” he mumbles. He sounds like a middle-schooler trying to explain his hand down his pants when he says to the rest of the table, “A friend of my mother’s.”

  “Sam,” John-Henry says, and he’s grinning, “why don’t you introduce us?”

  Sammy shoots him a look that I don’t think he would have dared a few weeks before, but he makes the introductions.

  “My Sammy thinks the world of you,” Gran says to John-Henry. “I can see why: you’re easy on the eyes.”

  Sam looks like he’s about to burst into flames.

  “What a ringing endorsement, John,” Emery says. “He picked you as a mentor because of your bone structure.”

  “Oh God,” Gran says. “You’re exactly like your father. Boy, howdy, did I have the hot pants for him!”

  I’m sure I’ve seen Emery speechless before. But it’s never been quite so satisfying as right now. Even June Louise looks like she’s about to laugh.

  Eventually—unfortunately—Sam sends Gran packing. Auggie looks like he’s dying from trying not to laugh—and from his missed opportunities—and Theo is trying not to grin. But he’s clearly more of an adult than the rest of the fucks-for-brains at this table because he’s the first one to really talk to Sam.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Sam says. He doesn’t actually say sir, but you can hear it hanging in the air.

  “I understand you’re with the police too.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It must have slipped out, I decide. But the way Auggie’s grinning tells me he didn’t miss it either.

  “And you’re going to be a detective.”

  “Another gay detective,” Emery says.

  John-Henry groans and says, “Not tonight, love.”

  “It’s an observation, John. It’s a statistical anomaly.”

  “Technically, Sam’s a bi,” I say.

  Sam squeezes my knee under the table, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Actually,” Sam says, “I didn’t apply for the detective opening.”

  John-Henry’s face changes in an instant. “You didn’t? Why not?”

  Sam shrugs. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I might want to be a detective at some point, but I’m not sure that’s what I want to do right now.”

  “Okay,” John-Henry says, but you can tell his whole world just got turned upside down. I think of all those marathon jerkoff sessions they’ve had together, planning how Sam is going to be the next detective for the Wahredua PD. “So, what did you—I mean, what do you want to do?”

  “He doesn’t have to have a five-year plan,” I say.

  “He doesn’t have to have one,” Emery says, “but why the fuck wouldn’t he?”

  “Please,” Auggie says to Theo. “I’m begging you.”

  “I want to work more with the community,” Sam says. “I liked being involved with WISP.”

  “And he’s fucking fantastic at it,” I say.

  Sam shrugs.

  “Okay,” John-Henry says again in that slightly baffled tone. But you can tell he’s trying to be kind as he says, “That’s great, Sam. That’s so exciting. There’s a lot of good ways you can be involved.”

  “Too late, boner,” I say.

  Sam actually blushes.

  “What does that mean?” John-Henry says.

  “Uh, well, I applied for a different position,” Sam says. “And I got it.”

  “What was it?” Emery says. “Please tell me you’re going to work the front desk and they’re canning Ehlers.”

  Sam shakes his head. He’s even redder now. “I’m going to be the new SRO. Liz Kirkman didn’t want to go back after the shooting, and they hadn’t filled the position.”

  “SRO?” Auggie says. “Is that the officer assigned to the high school?”

  Theo nods.

  “He’s so fucking good at this stuff,” I say. “Connecting with people, talking to them. He’s going to do great working with kids.”

  For a final moment, there’s confusion in John-Henry’s face. But then it clears, and he smiles and says, “Sam, that’s awesome. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I have a question,” Emery says.

  John-Henry says, “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, John, I do.” To Sam, he says, “You’re clearly not an idiot.”

  “Um, thank you?”

  “You’re attractive. You have a steady job.”

  “Ree,” John-Henry says.

  “I’m just pointing out that the boy has a certain appeal.”

  “The boy?” I say.

  “What would you say,” Emery asks Sam, “if I told you that you could do better?”

  Sam looks at him. And then he says, “I’d say don’t talk about my boyfriend that way.”

  It’s hard to read Emery’s face sometimes. Mostly because I’m not entirely sure he’s a human being. But something relaxes, and he settles back in his seat as he says, “Good thing it was a hypothetical question, then.”

  Theo clears his throat and says, “Auggie made a video that kind of plays around with that premise.”

  It’s a transition, and it’s meant to ease the tension, and it works. We watch Auggie’s video, and it’s cute, and he manages to get his shirt off twice in it. The little fucker has abs, and he’s clearly a show-off. After that, the rest of the night flows smoothly.

  As the dinner begins to wrap up, people stop at our table to say goodbye. There are some congratulations, and a few people who say they’re sorry I’ll be leaving WISP. Not Robin, of course. Foley hands me an envelope full of cash and says it’s from Norman and Gross, for WISP. And Chief Peterson shakes my hand.

  I’m caught up in the flow, so I’m only partially listening when I hear John-Henry say, “Why don’t you guys come over? We’ll play some games, hang out. It’ll be fun.”

  There’s this little pang inside me, because I know Sammy’s going to say yes. John-Henry inviting him to hang out—it’s basically his wet dream. And it’s fine. I’m past the jitters. I love Sam. I know how much he wants this.

  I don’t even mean to catch his eye.

  Sam smiles at me. Just at me.

  And he says, “Thanks, John-Henry. But I’ve got plans with my boyfriend.”

  Acknowledgments

  My deepest thanks go out to the following people (in reverse alphabetical order):

  Savannah Cordle, for spotting Norman’s self-hatred, finding yet another missing word, and for her kind, encouraging email about Sam and Gray.

  Meg DesCamp, for her usual fabulous editing, for that incredibly helpful comment (not a rant!) about Korea, and for making me laugh about snakes hiding their hands.

  Hank Edwards, for spotting extra spaces and missing words, for his splooge-related anecdote, and for pointing out when I was a terrible person.

  Winston Eisiminger, for the Pure Reba / Goatburger mash-up, for his corrections to the text, and for his extremely kind words about this book.

  Austin Gwin, for recommending a fan belt instead of a timing belt, for upwind instead of downwind, and for knowing enough about pinking shears to keep me out of trouble.

  Marie Lenglet, for help with Robin’s role in things, the Dr. Jacobson Love Triangle, and giving Sam more of a voice in his decision.

  Alyssa Ma, for her help with Officer Nicholls(!) and the Astoria(!!), for her help with the timeline (along with so many other things), and for her willingness to re-send her comments after I completely dropped the ball.

  Brett McMillan, for creeper vs. crawler, his amazing Marisa Tomei moment, and for lending his knowledge of Missouri avifauna.

  Cheryl Oakley, for clarifying ambiguities in the text (Sam’s arms), for her corrections to the text, and for asking the big question about Sam’s mom.

  Nichole Reeder, for her help with typos, for spotting my missing words, and for (as usual) fixing my continuity errors.

  Tray Stephenson, for clarifying what is taboo, for checking Sam’s truck (not car), and for his not-to-be-credited question about vocabulary.

  Mark Wallace, for lending his teacher brain to the text, for spotting my typos and missing words, and for his feedback about Sam and Gray’s “match.”

  Wendy Wickett, for lending her editorial acumen to this story, for her kind words about it, and for straightening out my timeline.

  Alicia Ramos, for final corrections (including body parts!) to the ARC.

  And Tom, for talking through the trickiest part of this book with me at Thai Mama.

  About the Author

  For advanced access, exclusive content, limited-time promotions, and insider information, please sign up for my mailing list at www.gregoryashe.com.

 

 

  Gregory Ashe, Soft Launch

 

 

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