“Besides,” I added, “we need all the money we can get before one of the cars bails on us.”

  “I know. God, I know. I just…” She gestured at me. “I don’t want your job to break you.”

  “I could say the same about you or Leo’s job,” I said dryly. “All I’m doing is getting laid. You two…”

  Rachel pursed her lips, but she didn’t argue. We’d had this conversation before, and her and her husband’s jobs really did take a hell of a toll on their bodies. Enough that it would be physically impossible for me to handle that work even on a part-time basis. Rachel was a line cook at one place and a server at another. Leo did landscaping. It wasn’t unusual for one or both of them to come home with absolutely no energy left, and let’s just say I wasn’t the only reason this household went through icepacks and ibuprofen like they were going out of style.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” I said quietly. “If I could find a job that paid this well and that my body could handle…”

  Exhaling, she nodded. “Yeah. I get it. I just worry about you.”

  “I know. And if I find something I can handle better, I will, but at least we’re making rent.”

  She made an unhappy sound, but she didn’t keep pushing the issue. Though she didn’t say it out loud, I had a feeling she felt guilty too. She’d been two terms away from graduating college when she’d had to drop out in order to take a second job. More than once, she’d vented to both Leo and me that she was so angry at herself for not just finishing those last two terms so she could get a better job. Now she was working so much, and we had so little money to spare, going back to school was impossible even with financial aid.

  People told her all the time she should get a degree and find better work if she wanted to get paid more. No one seemed to understand that when someone was working a million hours and they were one bad cold away from destitution, going to college was a fucking pipe dream.

  “If one of us ever wins the lottery,” I’d said to Leo a few months ago, “priority one is sending her back to school.”

  “Deal,” he’d said. Not that we had spare cash for lottery tickets, but we’d grab one every once in a blue moon. Hope sprang eternal.

  I poured myself some coffee and gingerly sat on the couch to drink it. As I did, I pulled up my phone and checked the Emerald City app to make sure I’d been paid from last night.

  Payment and tip processed.

  “Oh, wow. Last night’s client actually tipped me.”

  Rachel’s ears perked up. “Did he?”

  “Yeah. From some of the comments on his profile, I didn’t think he would, but he—” The screen loaded, and I blinked. “Whoa.”

  “What? How much?”

  I met her gaze. “Five hundred bucks.”

  Her jaw fell open. “No shit?”

  “No shit.” I showed her the screen, grinning as giddiness swelled in my chest. “That’s… Two grand? Man, that’s the rest of this month’s rent with enough left for groceries for the whole house.”

  “Yeah, it is.” She sighed with obvious relief. “We could even make a Costco run.”

  “Oh, that would be great.” It had been months since we’d been able to scrape together enough to do more than a moderate pass through the grocery store. Actually stocking up at Costco? Holy shit.

  “I’ll check with Nancy and see if we can go with her.” Rachel picked up her phone and started typing out a text.

  “Sounds good.” Nancy was a neighbor who had a Costco membership, and she’d take us whenever we needed to make a shopping trip. Ugh, being poor was so fun—couldn’t even afford an annual goddamned Costco membership for ourselves.

  You would think that taking home fifteen hundred bucks a night would mean I was rolling in cash. Unfortunately, my physical limitations kept me from working enough to really cash in on the gold mine that was Emerald City. My sessions were limited to two hours, which seemed to turn off a lot of potential clients; the ones who wanted short bookings usually preferred quickies, and those guys could be too rough for me. Between that and my limited ability, bookings were rare. So rare that, despite earning fifteen hundred plus per night, I didn’t actually make much money annually. Definitely not enough to be living the high life, especially in the Seattle area.

  More than once, we’d all entertained the idea of packing up and moving someplace else. The problem with that was that moving itself was expensive as all hell. When you’re barely making ends meet, it’s not exactly feasible to cough up application fees, first and last month’s rent, a damage deposit, and all the expenses that tended to snowball during the process of physically moving from one place to another. That didn’t even take into consideration that we’d all have to find new jobs, since we’d have to move far enough away to find a lower cost of living that commuting to our current jobs would be out of the question. Though I supposed I could stay with Emerald City as long as we stuck to somewhere along the I-5 corridor. Too bad the four of us couldn’t live on my income while Rachel and Leo found new jobs, and we couldn’t afford for one of them to go on ahead to nail down a job.

  Short of a financial miracle—like one of those rare lottery tickets actually coming through for us—we were fucking stuck here.

  But today, we had two thousand dollars in hand, which would cover rent and leave enough for a Costco trip. I’d take any windfall, including small ones like this, if they let everyone in this tiny apartment breathe a little easier.

  “Okay, Nancy says she can take one of us on Tuesday.” Rachel came around and sat on the other end of the couch. “We’ll have to figure out schedules, but it might be you going with her. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” I shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable, and bit back a grunt of pain as my shoulder twinged. “I’ll text her later. Don’t worry about it.”

  She frowned. “You’re sore, aren’t you?”

  I laughed dryly as I brought my coffee to my lips. “I’m always sore.”

  The frown deepened.

  I sipped my coffee, and as I lowered the cup, I said, “Rach. Don’t.”

  Rachel gave an exasperated sigh. “Hunter, look at you.” She gestured wildly at me. “You can barely move.”

  “No kidding.”

  “You can’t sustain a job like this. You’re—”

  “What else can I do?” I cautiously stretched my neck.

  Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “God, I don’t know.”

  “It’s not forever. I mean, the pain probably is, but the job isn’t. I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

  Her jaw worked, and I thought her eyes welled up. Truth be told, I didn’t blame her. The entire debacle of trying to stay afloat while one of us couldn’t work at anywhere near normal capacity had been draining for both of us—hell, all of us, since her husband and our daughter were affected by it too. Sometimes I wondered if there was even any point.

  But it was all I had, and Emerald City was the only way I was going to make any money without making my physical issues worse.

  What else could I do?

  Chapter 5

  Scott

  Since hockey season usually meant I couldn’t make it home for most major holidays and family birthdays, and football season kept Cousin Mark away for a lot of the same, the Fourth of July had become the big holiday for our family. It was the one time where extended family got together, and it was rare for anyone to miss it unless something major came up.

  My dad and his siblings alternated who hosted the big event each year, and they all lived within about twenty miles of each other outside of Rexburg in Idaho. This year, my Uncle Allen was hosting at his farm, and as always, I’d be staying with my parents in the house I’d grown up in.

  Several days ahead of the Fourth, I drove over from Seattle. I almost never flew when I came to visit, mostly because by the time hockey season ended, I was ready to eat glass if it meant not getting on an airplane again. The team’s charter jet was sweet, but airports and flying and all of that bullshit sucked. I’d take the twelvish hour drive, singing along to my tunes alone, over all that noise any day.

  My knee wasn’t thrilled about marathon drives, though, and going over the pass always left my head throbbing (one of the lingering effects of my rookie season concussion). So, I’d broken up the trip into two days. Last night I’d stayed in Spokane, and thanks to an early start, I got into Rexburg around noon. But before I went to my parents’ house, I pulled into the gas station that had been here since the dawn of time.

  I topped off my gas tank, then went inside to grab a bottle of water. As I walked in, I smiled. My old neighbor, Daryl Jensen, owned the place, and he was still behind the counter, same as he’d been since I was a kid. His hair was thinner and his glasses were thicker, but he was still the same friendly guy I’d known forever.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Daryl looked up, and a huge grin instantly spread across his face. “Scotty! I thought I recognized that shiny car.”

  I laughed as I extended my hand over the counter. A bright yellow Ferrari did kind of stick out, especially in a town like this. “Yeah, just got into town. How are you? How’s the family?”

  “Good, good!” We shook hands, and Daryl gave me a rundown of everything his various kids were doing these days. He had eight of them, so there was a growing herd of grandkids who had him absolutely beaming. He’d always been that super proud dad—the one who cheered while he videoed one of them riding a bike for the first time—and as a grandfather, that pride was tenfold. It was pretty cute, I thought. After he’d filled me in, he said, “Oh, and congrats on the big win! Cathy and I watched all the playoff games with the kids. Whew, that was a ride!”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re telling me. I wondered a few times if we’d make it to the finals, but we pulled through.”

  “Yeah, you did. What a way to end the season. And that kid who scored at the end—that’s really only his second season?”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Second pro season, yeah. He had a good run in college, so we all had high hopes for him, but he really killed it this year.”

  “Well, good for him. And good for all of you. How many Cups is this for you now?”

  “Three,” I said. “Hopefully I can squeeze in one or two more before I retire.”

  “Ah, you’ve got plenty of time.” He gave my shoulder a firm pat. “The way you were playing, you’ve still got lots of life left in you.”

  “Let’s hope. We’ll see how the knee holds out.”

  Daryl’s expression instantly shifted to one of concern, and he glanced down, eyebrows flicking up when he saw the black brace around my left knee. “What happened? I didn’t think you were out on an injury recently.”

  “No, no, it’s an old injury.” I smiled reassuringly. “I sprained it in college and again a few seasons ago. It just doesn’t like to let me forget it.”

  Daryl relaxed a little, though there was definitely still concern on his face. “You’re taking care of it, though, aren’t you? Not just the brace, but in general?”

  I laughed. “As much as I can take care of it while I’m still skating and playing hockey.” The concern shifted to alarm, and I patted the air. “It’s fine. Trust me. The team doc keeps a sharp eye on me, and we’ve got very well-trained and well-paid medical professionals keeping us healthy.”

  “That’s good. And you haven’t had any new head injuries, have you?”

  “Been knocked around a little, but no more pucks to the noggin, thankfully.”

  He chuckled. “I know you were a rookie, son, but didn’t you know better than to catch a flying puck with your head?”

  “Oh, ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help laughing. It had taken a few years before I could joke about that injury, and it had only been in the last two or three that Daryl would tease me about it too. He’d just been too horrified.

  The bell on the door jingled, and some other customers walked in.

  “Well, I better get out of your hair.” I gestured toward my car. “I just wanted to swing in and say hi. I should get to my folks’ place before Mom starts chasing me down for being late to dinner.”

  Daryl chuckled as he started ringing me up. “Well, it was great to see you. Say hi to everyone for me, will you? And stop in again before you leave town, all right?”

  “Will do.”

  I finished paying for gas and my drink, then headed out. Truth was, I’d still had half a tank when I’d arrived, but I always made a point of stopping into Daryl’s gas station when I was in town. He and his wife had lived next to my parents for decades. Like a lot of people in Rexburg, they were Mormon, and they’d been close family friends all my life even though we’d had no interest in going to their church and they’d had no interest in ours. Truth be told, he and his wife had been like second parents to me growing up. I’d have to hit up some of their kids while I was in town and see if they wanted to meet up. They were all busy with jobs and families now, but we tried to see each other when we could.

  My family was still cordial to theirs now, but it was superficial at best. My parents just could not handle how chill Daryl and Cathy had been when their youngest son had come out seven or eight years ago, and it still bothered them. Not enough to cause a scene, but enough that when the neighbors were out of earshot, my parents both had made some unflattering comments. They still exchanged Christmas cards, but joint barbecues and board game nights didn’t happen anymore.

  I still kept in touch, though. I just didn’t mention it to my parents, because quite frankly, I didn’t want to hear about it.

  They can’t cope with me being friendly to a man who accepts his gay son.

  God help me if they ever find out what I am.

  I spent a couple days in town, catching up with friends and family. Then it was time for the big shindig—the Fourth of July at my uncle’s place.

  Uncle Allen had about a hundred acres outside of Rexburg, and his family had been raising Appaloosa horses for decades. All of us kids had learned to ride out here, and my younger sister trained full-time for him these days. I loved visiting the ranch. It was about the only time I had to ride horses anymore, and I missed it.

  Three or four years ago, some pictures had wound up online of me, my siblings, and my cousins, well, horsing around—riding without saddles, bridles, or halters, jumping over things that were not meant to be used as jumps, sitting backwards on horses. Basically all the shit we’d done as kids when our parents weren’t looking. These days, our parents just rolled their eyes and said, “You know what? You’re paying your own deductibles now. Knock yourselves out.”

  My coach, however…

  “For Christ’s sake, Deacon.” Coach Henderson had pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed the sigh of a man tired of herding cats. Lowering his hand, he’d met my gaze with pleading eyes. “Do we have to add a clause in your contract forbidding you from doing stupid shit on horseback? Or can you just… not?”

  I’d had to fight hard not to laugh. “Coach, I’ve been riding since I was a kid. It’s no big deal.”

  “Uh-huh. And my boys took riding lessons for years too. My boys who are not subject to extra concussion protocols thanks to being knocked the hell out by a puck. And their instructors were adamant about things like… not doing the shit you were doing. Especially without a helmet on.”

  “Nobody wears a helmet when they’re barrel-racing.”

  “You were barrel-racing?”

  Oh. Crap. Apparently he hadn’t seen those pictures.

  So now the rule was that if I got on a horse, nobody was allowed to take pictures, and if I got hurt on a horse, we all better come up with something creative to explain it away. Coach was still dubious that the horseshoe-shaped bruise on my thigh last summer had been a result of stumbling into a trailer hitch that had a decorative horseshoe cover on it. I’d bought my brother-in-law some seriously pricey whiskey to pay for the trailer hitch cover he’d quickly fashioned and photographed for me to send to my coach. It was good to have a farrier in the family, especially after your dumb ass had managed to get kicked.

  What could I say? The Deacon family kids had grown up, but not entirely, and when someone turned us loose on the farm… Well. Shit happened.

  Today, I parked in the gravel lot in front of the barn. The festivities didn’t really kick off until later in the afternoon, so there weren’t a lot of people here yet, and I easily found a spot that would be shady most of the day and wasn’t under one of the trees that liked to drop pollen and sticky things on cars. It was bad enough my baby was currently wearing half the insect population of Eastern Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. I didn’t need pitch on it too.

  As I was getting out of the car, my sister appeared in the barn doorway, a brush in her hand and a lead rope draped over her shoulder. The instant she saw me, her eyes lit up. “Scotty!”

  “Hey!” I gave her a tight hug, not caring about the dirt and horse hair. No one who grew up around horses ever did. “How are things?”

  “Oh, same old, same old.” She gestured toward the barn. “Come on in. I need to finish putting Lady away.”

  I followed her, and she had a tall mare standing patiently on the cross ties. The horse was damp with some telltale marks from where her saddle and girth had been, so Meghan must have just hosed her off after a ride. In this heat, that was a must.

  We caught up while Meghan cooled the mare down and groomed her. After she’d put Lady back in her stall, she introduced me to the newest horses, and I said hello to some of the old-timers. I was amazed to see Missy still alive and kicking. She was a sway-backed leopard Appy who was older than the hills, and there she was, still out in the pasture with the other mares, nipping at the foals who didn’t behave.

  There were quite a few foals, too. Usually Uncle Allen bred for early spring babies, but some looked to be less than a month old, and they were always fun to watch at that age. They ran around on their spindly legs while their moms plodded along like, “Oh my God, would you take a nap already?” Then, five minutes later, the babies would be sprawled on the ground, napping happily while their moms grazed.