He wasn’t in the mood for a pity party, but Evan was hurting. He’d made choices and ‘oh, well’ for him. Mick stood in the doorway to the dining room.
“When I was fifteen, she knew the truth. I hadn’t figured it out yet,” Evan said.
“What truth?” He had a pretty good idea, but if Evan wanted to talk, he wouldn’t interrupt.
Evan touched one of the picture frames. “She knew I was gay.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “She told me to be myself. She said I’d do better if I did. I couldn’t. No one wants to dance to the music of a gay cowboy. I’m supposed to have sex appeal. No appeal equals no work.” He faced Mick. “Do you know how hard it is to keep your true self quiet? All I wanted to do was sing and talk about my life. I can’t.” He shook his head. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine and I can tell you’re ready to leave.”
“You just lost someone you love. You shouldn’t be alone.” He left the doorway. He could be heartless, but Evan needed him. “I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. Besides, Martha was important to me, too.”
“Yeah?” Evan wiped his face again. “Good.”
“I’m going to order a pizza. Is there anything you don’t like?” He pulled his phone from his pocket.
“I’m good.” Evan left the room.
“Pepperoni and cheese? Will that work?” Mick asked. He tapped the order into the little app for Cedarwood Pizza.
“Sure,” Evan called.
Mick stayed in the front room of the house and kept an eye out for the delivery driver. According to the notification, the order would be there in less than half an hour. “Martha said she wanted us to share stories about her. Fond ones.” When Evan joined him in the front room, Mick rubbed Evan’s shoulders. “Come sit with me. Tell me about your grandmother.”
Evan shook his head, but followed Mick to the sofa.
“I’ll start,” Mick said and sat beside Evan. “After my grandmother got sick, Martha would have me drive her to town.”
“She could drive,” Evan murmured.
“She wanted company,” Mick said. “Anyway, she’d make sure she brought those mint candies. I must’ve eaten a hundred of them that year. I don’t like mint, but I’d take those because it made your grandmother happy.”
“She loved butterscotch, too.”
“Yeah?” He rested his arm on the back of the sofa. “I always got those blue mints she carried in her purse. If she had butterscotch, I never saw them.”
“She had a candy dish she’d fill with butterscotch because my grandfather loved them,” Evan said. “I’m not wild about hard candy, but when I see those little discs, I think of him.”
He smiled. He’d never known she liked the other kind of candy, and he liked getting Evan to talk. “Do you know Martha used to grouse at me about my clothes?”
“No.” Evan’s mouth quirked into a tiny smile. “Did she try to recruit you to work on the farm?”
“Yes.” He touched Evan’s shoulder. “She thought I should’ve helped bale straw and feed the cattle. I’m not a farmer.”
“I couldn’t tell.” The smile grew a bit. A fresh tear slid down Evan’s cheek. “She encouraged me to play for her. I had to help with the chores, but she’d let me stay up when I stayed over, so I could play and practice.”
“Guitar?” He wondered if Evan was any good. Must’ve been, if he took the stage.
“Yeah. Piano, too.”
“I’ll bet you’re great.” In his mind, he could see Evan on the stage, working the crowd and rocking with his guitar. He was probably electrifying.
“She wanted me to play bebop like when she was a kid.” Evan rested his chin on his folded hands. “Said if I would, she’d add a dollar to my getaway fund. She gave me some money when I left for Nashville. I don’t know if that was all from me playing the music she loved, but I hope so.”
“You played her music?”
“Yeah.” Evan chuckled. “Did she request bebop music for her funeral?”
“She wrote up an entire itinerary and it involved you playing a hymn and a song… Ivory Roses?” He’d never heard the song, but if Martha wanted it, then he wouldn’t argue.
“My biggest hit?” Evan frowned. “It’s about lost love.”
Mick shrugged. “It’s what she wanted. She planned everything out.” He placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder again. Why did he keep touching Evan? He liked the strength in Evan’s body, but did Evan appreciate his forthright approach? He hadn’t pulled away, but so what? Mick spotted the car. Good. He’d have a break for a second and could compose his thoughts. “Pizza’s here.”
“That fast?” Even peeked out of the window. “Wow.”
“It’s not far and Cedarwood Pizza liked your grandmother. She and I would order a pie every other Friday.” Mick stood. “I’ll get it.” He hurried through the house to the door, then out to the driveway where he met the car and tipped the driver. “Thanks.”
Evan stood at the door. “Is that Callie Jenkins?”
“The driver?” Mick met him on the porch. “She picks up shifts driving pizza when she’s short on cash. She and Dan divorced and it’s been rough.”
“Didn’t they have kids?” Evan asked.
“No.” He carried the box into the kitchen and placed the pizza on the table. “I’ll get the plates and such.”
“Why don’t we eat out of the box?”
Mick paused. Martha demanded that every time. All he had to do was retrieve the napkins.
“Then there aren’t any dishes to wash,” Evan said.
Shit. Evan was more like his grandmother than he’d thought. “Sure. I’ll get napkins.”
“Cool.” Evan sat back on the sofa and sighed. “I owe you.”
“Nah. You’re back in town and still getting your head screwed on. God, you just lost someone important to you. It’s been a crazy time. I’m not surprised you’re all turned around. Don’t worry about it.
