Trailer Trash(62)

Cody pushed himself to his feet, then held a hand down to Nate and pulled him up too. Nate was a bit disappointed that Cody let his hand go as soon as he was standing.

Cody followed him to the door, lingering in the doorway as Nate stepped onto the porch and zipped up his jacket. Nate sensed his hesitance, and he wasn’t surprised when Cody reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

“You’re coming back, right?” Even now, it was as if he hardly dared to hope.

“With fried rice and crab wontons.” And just to seal the deal, Nate kissed him. Not on the lips, because he wasn’t brave enough for that yet. But he kissed Cody’s forehead, even though Cody went stiff as he did. “Twenty minutes or less, I promise.”

Cody didn’t answer. Didn’t respond at all. Didn’t even move. But Nate found himself smiling all the way to the restaurant.



Cody didn’t have much of an appetite despite not having eaten since breakfast, but Nate had gone to so much trouble that he felt compelled to eat. The food was good, but each bite hurt, as if daring to enjoy anything good about the world was a betrayal to his grief. How could he be excited about crab wontons, knowing Logan and Shelley were lying in a morgue in Casper?

“Nobody’s at the Tomahawk.” It came to him all of a sudden, and he had to set his fork down to fight the knot in his throat again.

Nate froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We alternate Mondays. It was Logan’s turn.” He felt like he should have remembered. Like he should have gone in to cover Logan’s shift for him, but the thought of standing by that sink again filled him with a horrible sense of despair. How would he ever get through his shift on Wednesday? He felt tears welling up again and hurriedly wiped them away. He was sick of blubbering in front of Nate, but his eyes weren’t cooperating.

“Why don’t you go watch TV or something?” Nate suggested. “I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge for you.”

Cody nodded, but it took a minute for the words to register in his brain. He made it to the couch before realizing the remote was out of his reach. Whatever. He didn’t want to watch TV anyway. The metal rabbit-ears on top of it had been a bit out of whack for a week, barely picking up anything anyway. He laid his head on the arm of the couch, curling halfway into a fetal position, finding some strange comfort in the worn, threadbare upholstery. At some point, Nate put an afghan over him, and Cody drifted in a warm place where he couldn’t quite remember how horrible the day had been.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Nate gently shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes to a completely dark room.

“I’m late for curfew. I didn’t want to wake you, but—”

“What time is it?”

“A little after ten.”

Cody sat up, rubbing his eyes. He had no idea what time it had been when he’d first lain down. Everything about the day felt distorted and surreal.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay?”

Cody blinked, confused. It was too dark in the room to see Nate’s expression. “For what?”

“For school.”

“No.” Cody shook his head, trying to clear it. “You don’t want the others to know. If they see us together, they’ll make assumptions.”

“To hell with them.” Nate took Cody’s hand and squeezed his fingers. “There’s nothing wrong with us being friends.”

Cody wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Nate he had no idea what kind of trouble he was flirting with, but he couldn’t do it. Nate’s hand felt so warm and solid and perfect holding his. There was comfort in his voice and in his presence, and Cody found himself relenting. “I can meet you at the gas station.”

He couldn’t see Nate’s smile, but he heard the soft exhale of breath that was almost a laugh. “Jesus, don’t start that shit again. I said I’d pick you up, and I will.”

“Okay.”

Cody stayed on the couch, tracking Nate’s movements around the room more by sound than by sight. When Nate finally had his coat on and keys in hand, he stopped in the doorway. “You’ll be here tomorrow, right? You’re not planning on leaving before I get here or some dumb thing?”

Cody smiled, despite how lousy the day had been. “I’ll be here.”

“Good.”

The door creaked open, and Cody spoke quickly to catch him in time. “Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, man. For . . . well, you know. For dinner and everything.”

“You’re welcome.”



Cody was apprehensive the next morning when he climbed into Nate’s car, not because of Nate, but because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get through a day at school without bursting into tears like a damn kid. Nate distracted him during the drive by asking seemingly random questions. Where was Cody after first hour? When was he in the senior hallway? Where did he go every day at lunchtime? It wasn’t until the first passing period that he realized Nate had been figuring out his class schedule, making sure he could check in at least a few times throughout the day.