Lone Star (7 page)

Why had he hated it so much growing up?

Of course, he hadn’t always hated it. There was a time when he could have been happy here. If Web would have met him halfway.

It wasn’t all Web’s fault, though. If Mitch was honest, he hadn’t wanted halfway; he’d been insisting on everything, the whole enchilada. He’d been unhappy and desperate and he’d thrown out an ultimatum with his usual charm.

And Web had refused. Whatever he told himself now, Web had refused.

The older, wiser Mitch—the Mitch who had survived getting the shit knocked out of him by his father—recognized that Web had probably had a point or two.

Web’s refusal to give in to Mitch’s ultimatum had spurred Mitch into achieving his ambition of becoming a professional dancer—failure had no longer been an option.

And now?

Maybe Web wasn’t so far wrong. Mitch was about to be handed everything he’d worked and trained and sacrificed for. This was no time for second-guessing the decisions he’d made and it was sure as hell no time to trade off a bird in the hand for two in the Texas Hill Country bush.

If Web had asked him to stay…

But Web hadn’t. He’d just walked away and that had been that. Once again it was all on Mitch to take it or leave it.

And once again Mitch was going to leave it.

Decision made. That was a huge relief.

Or it would be a huge relief when that weird ache beneath his heart went away.

The Engstroms lived in a modern Spanish-style home surrounded by palm and citrus trees. The palm trees were wound in bright Christmas lights. The driveway was crowded with cars.

Mitch sat in his parked car staring at the giant nativity scene dominating the front yard and tried to figure out what he was doing there. He hated big parties full of strangers. He hated little parties full of strangers. He hated parties. He hated strangers.

But Web was going to be at this party, and it seemed to Mitch that it might be easier to speak to him in neutral surroundings than in the midst of his family. If things went well at the Engstroms, maybe they could go somewhere afterward and really talk, because for all Mitch kept telling himself that his mind was all made up, he couldn’t help thinking that he’d made that mistake once before.

He made himself get out of the car and walk up the long, wide cement walk.

It turned out not to be so bad after all. Gidget was surprised and delighted at Mitch’s appearance and insisted on pouring a double margarita and introducing him to everyone in sight. It was hard not to relax under the influence of so warm a welcome.

“I told you everyone in these parts loves the ballet.” Gidget ushered him out to the long buffet table laden with homemade tamales, chili-cheese quesadillas, armadillo eggs, fried jalapeños, Texas caviar made with black-eyed peas, and chicken enchilada puffs. There was a separate dessert table with cinnamon cookies, bizcocho, butterscotch pie, pan de polvo, bunuelos, Three Kings Bread, and maraschino cherries marinated in chocolate vodka.

“I don’t think most of these people give a damn about ballet, but I guess it’s true that Texans are the friendliest people in the world.”

“If you do say so yourself.”

Mitch laughed. His smile faded at the sight of Web out on the patio with a circle of other tall, rugged-looking men who, he guessed, were also Texas Rangers. The men drank beer and joked amongst themselves.

“I’m packing pounds on just looking at this table.” Gidget sighed.

Web hadn’t spotted Mitch. He was listening to a tall man with dark, curly hair who was, judging by the expression of the others, telling a long and familiar story. The other man finished, Web drawled something, and the ring of men burst out laughing.

Mitch smiled faintly. He didn’t need to hear the words to know that the wisecrack was classic Web.

As though feeling his gaze, Web glanced at the sliding glass doors and caught sight of Mitch. He turned away, said something to the group. There was more laughter. Web asked the man next to him something. The man raised his beer and nodded his head.

Web nodded and walked toward the house. He was still smiling, still casual.

Mitch’s heart began to thud as it always did when he heard the intro bars of music before he went on stage.

The glass door slid open.

Web stepped inside the house, moving aside as a string of small, shrieking children pushed past him and ran into the backyard.

“Look who’s here,” Gidget said brightly.

Web nodded hello. “Having fun?” he asked Mitch.

“Sure. You?”

“You bet.” Web nodded politely and went on to the kitchen. He passed through the family room a minute or so later carrying two beers and went out through the glass door rejoining his friends on the patio.

Acid began to boil and bubble in Mitch’s gut. What a mistake this was. What had he been thinking? What had he imagined coming here would prove? What part of
You Can’t Go Home Again
did he not grasp?

“Gosh, we’re nearly out of tamales.” Gidget disappeared back into the kitchen.

Mitch turned his back to the patio where Web had handed off the extra beer and was once more laughing, safe within the circle of his friends, and emptied his margarita into the nearest plastic miniature palm. He realized only too late that the palm wasn’t plastic.

The glass door slid open behind him again and Mitch guiltily jumped.

“Where’s your friend?”

Mitch turned. Web was right there, looking grave and handsome in cowboy boots, jeans, and a corduroy jacket. “Either on his way back to the airport or sitting in a Holiday Inn watching the
It’s a Wonderful Life
marathon.”

Web kept his voice low, though no one in the room was paying them any attention. “So is it over between you?”

“Yes.”

“What about this offer from—” Web broke off as Gidget rushed out of the kitchen. She opened the sliding glass door and hurried out to the circle of men on the patio. Whatever she said dispersed them in a moment. They came inside the house, moving with low-key but swift purpose.

“Time to ride, partner,” the tall man with dark, curly hair called to Web.

Web nodded. He turned back to Mitch. “Damn. Sorry. I’ll call you this evening.”

Mitch nodded.

Web gripped his arm briefly. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? Not till I have my say.”

“Okay.”

With that, Web was gone.

“Did you meet Erik?” Gidget asked Mitch a little while later.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’d remember meetin’ the best-lookin’ man in the house. Darn it all! And now he and the boys got called out. Y’all’d think even outlaws would want to celebrate Christmas Eve.”

Mitch’s heart dropped into the lava churning in his belly. “You mean the Rangers were called out on a job?”

She nodded glumly. Catching his expression, she patted his arm. “You’re sweet to care, but I’m just bein’ a baby. They’ll be back before you know it.”

But the Rangers didn’t come back, and eventually the guests began to say their thank-yous and goodbyes, and depart to their own homes and hearths to prepare for the following day’s festivities.

The evening sky turned purple and then black while Mitch waited for Web to phone. He had no idea how these things worked. Presumably after the Rangers made their bust or did whatever it was Rangers did, they had paperwork to fill out. Maybe the paperwork took a long time.

But when Web had not called by seven o’clock, Mitch began to get worried.

Maybe he didn’t know how Texas Rangers worked, but he knew how Web worked, and if Web said he’d call, then he’d have to have a pretty powerful reason for not following through.

Mitch had thrown out Web’s business card that first night, so he called the Eisleys’ direct.

He knew there was trouble when Aunt Mamie answered on the first ring. Mitch’s awkward request for Web was greeted with a small sound. Not quite a sob but too breathy for normal socializing.

“They’re all at the hospital, Mitch.”

“Which hospital? What happened?” Mexican drug dealers. He was sure of it.

“The Medical Center in San Antonio. There was an accident. All we know is a Texas Ranger has been seriously injured. We’re waiting to hear—”

“Is it Web?”

“We don’t know, honey.”

Mitch knew. If Web was okay, he’d call. He’d know his family would be anxiously waiting news and he’d get word to them.

Mitch didn’t realize he’d said it aloud until Aunt Mamie answered. “Not necessarily. There might could be all kinds of reasons he wouldn’t be able to call right away.”

“What hospital did you say they took him—the injured Ranger—to?”

Aunt Mamie found the address and the phone number, reading it carefully to Mitch. She finished with, “You mind your driving, Mitch. Web would have a conniption if somethin’ happened to you. And tell them to call me as soon as they know anything!”

Later, Mitch remembered nothing of the drive although at the time he was conscious of keeping an eye out for deer or reindeer or anything else that might delay him.

Web would have a conniption if somethin’ happened to you.
That had to mean something if Aunt Mamie said it right out loud like that. If Aunt Mamie openly acknowledged what maybe everybody already recognized? That Mitch and Web belonged to each other? That they’d always belonged to each other?

At last Mitch arrived at the hospital and strode up to the front desk in the reception area.

“There was a Texas Ranger brought here earlier?”

“Third floor,” the girl said, in the resigned tone of someone who’d been answering the same question for hours.

“Is he—how is he?”

“You can wait for news on the third floor with everyone. I’m sure there’ll be word before long.”

He took the elevator to the third floor. The hall was crowded with people, some he recognized from the Engstrom party earlier that afternoon. He hesitated, looking for someone he knew. He spotted Mrs. Eisley talking to Gidget Engstrom. He started to make his way over to them.

“Mitch!”

Web stood in front of him. He had stitches in his hairline and a bruise on his cheekbone. His shirt was spattered with something dark that looked like blood. His jacket was torn. The main thing—the only thing—was he was alive.

Alive and in one piece.

“Mitch. I tried to call you.” His hands closed on Mitch’s shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

Now there was a fool question. “I called the ranch and talked to Aunt Mamie.” Mitch steadied his voice. “She said the family had got word that a Ranger had been hurt but nobody knew who. I was sure it was you.”

Web’s face changed. He pulled Mitch into his arms. Mitch hugged him back with all his strength, which was considerable. He heard Web’s gasp. Mitch wasn’t sure if that was because he’d just broken a few of Web’s ribs or because they were hugging right there in the hospital hallway crowded with family and medical personnel and Texas Rangers.

Web drew back. His face was drawn with weariness. “I’m sorry you had that scare. I’m fine.”

“What happened? Mexican drug dealers?”

Web’s smile flickered. “No. Homegrown American lowlifes. We were in a high-speed pursuit of a pair of bandits when one of them turned around and plowed his monster truck right into us. Erik got the steering wheel in his chest. He’s in surgery now.”

“Is he going to make it?”

Web’s jaw hardened. “We don’t know yet.”

It was a long wait. Eventually the hall thinned out. The older Eisleys said goodnight and left. Mitch sat in a hard plastic chair beside Web, prepared to wait for however long it took. It was after midnight when they finally received news that Erik was going to survive.

“I’ll drive you home,” Mitch said.

Web nodded, wearily following Mitch to his car.

“What about this thing in Canada?” Web bucked his seat belt. If Erik had been wearing a seat belt he wouldn’t have been so badly injured, but they had been chasing bad guys and no one was thinking of seat belts.

“What thing in Canada?” It actually took Mitch a couple of seconds to remember. “Oh.” Mitch had put the key in the ignition, but he didn’t turn it. He faced Web, although it was difficult to read his face in the greenish light of the underground parking lot. “Are we having this out now? Because I can’t drive and talk about this stuff.”

“I’m not afraid to say it first,” Web said. “I love you. I guess I always have. I guess I always will.”

“Whether I keep dancing or not?”

“I’m not asking you to give up your career.”

“What are you asking?”

“I guess…whatever you can give. I don’t have a lot of faith in long-distance relationships, but I’m willin’ to try.”

“I don’t have a lot of faith in them either, but it’s a bad time in my career to take a leave of absence.”

“So you’re goin’ to Canada?”

“I don’t know. I want it. But I don’t want it at the expense of you.”

“It won’t be at the expense of me.”

Mitch considered this. “I could do the
Les Grand Ballet
while I figure a way to move my home base from New York to here.”

“Here?”

“Not the parking lot. No.”

Web wasn’t smiling. Mitch sighed. “I had all day to think about this. Ever since you walked away this morning.” He’d also had time to think abut it during the longest drive and worst hour and a half of his life.

“Sorry.” Web sounded sheepish. “I guess I was afraid to hear what you were goin’ to say.”

“It’s dancing I love, not the rest of it. The fame part of it mostly stresses me out. ABT and the University of Texas in Austin collaborate in a summer training course every year. If I said the word, I could be part of that. If I said the word I could probably find a place as a principal dancer in any company in Texas. Performing with the ABT gives me a lot of clout.”

“I’ve seen you dance. You don’t have to convince me. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

“You didn’t always feel that way.” Mitch could smile about it now, but once upon a time it had hurt like hell.

“Once upon a time I thought dancing was going to take you away forever.”

“It didn’t have to be either-or. It still doesn’t, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Let’s go home and talk about it.”

Mitch nodded and started the car engine.

He appreciated that Web kept the conversation largely impersonal on the drive. Web was sleeping when they pulled into the Eisleys’ front yard. The lights were off in the house.

Mitch leaned over and pressed his mouth gently to Web’s. Web’s eyelashes fluttered, he murmured something and sat up. “Huh?”

“We’re home.”

“That sounds nice.” Web’s hand tangled in the hair at the back of Mitch’s as he pulled him in for another kiss. “Come inside. I want to show you something.”

Mitch followed Web across the hard, frozen ground, up the wooden porch, inside the dark house with its warm Christmassy smells of baking and pine trees and cinnamon candles.

Web caught Mitch’s hand, leading him into the front room. The Christmas tree was lit, presents gleaming in the soft, colored light.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Web whispered.

He disappeared upstairs and Mitch folded into the rocker near the fire, which was down to red embers.

For the first time in a very long time, he had no idea what was going to happen. He had no plan and no control but he could not remember feeling more excited or happy.

He looked away from the fireplace as the stairs squeaked. Web came back in the room. “I have something for you, but first I want to tell you something.”