Trailer Trash(72)

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this. Or how long I’ve wanted it to happen, but I never knew what to say. I never knew how to make things right between us again. And then Logan— God, Cody, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about Logan, and I’m sorry I was such an ass.”

Cody shook his head. Maybe it was wrong, but he didn’t want to think about Logan right now. “It’s okay.”

“It isn’t, though. I was so afraid, but I’m not now, I promise. I don’t care what else happens, as long as you’re with me. If Chicago’s too big, we’ll pick someplace else. I don’t care. Wherever you want to go—”

Cody held Nate close, shivering for no reason he could explain. “Don’t, Nate. Don’t make promises you might not want to keep.”

Nate chuckled in Cody’s ear. “To hell with that. I’ll make whatever promises I want. I love you. God, I love you so much. It feels good to finally say it.”

The truth of those words seemed to sink into Cody’s heart, warming him from the inside out. He couldn’t quite say them back—not because he didn’t feel the same way, but because it scared him too much. Instead, he said, “I think I understand your mom’s saying.”

Nate pulled back to look down into his eyes. “What?”

“It makes sense now. I know exactly what it means.” He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “‘When it’s dark enough, you can see the stars.’ And I think I do.”

Nate shook his head and kissed Cody again. “I only see you.”

Those four words were the best Christmas gift anybody had ever given him.





Cody worked on December thirtieth, but Nate picked him up at the end of his shift.

“I promised my dad I wouldn’t go out tomorrow night,” Nate told him. “But he’ll be working all night, so you could come to my house, if you want.”

They were a lot more careful about fooling around at Nate’s than they were at Cody’s, because there was no telling when his dad might come walking in. But Nate had cable, and a huge TV to watch it on, and a pantry full of snacks. The limit on sexual activities aside, Nate’s house was a much better place to pass the time.

“Sounds good,” Cody said.

Nate pulled out of the Tomahawk’s parking lot, heading for Cody’s house. They’d have a couple of hours together before Nate had to be home for curfew, and the warm cab of the truck seemed thick with possibility as Nate drove. They’d spent a great deal of time since Christmas exploring all the ways they could use their hands and their mouths to make each other feel good, and Cody knew they were both thinking a lot more about the time they’d have alone in Cody’s bedroom tonight than about New Year’s Eve.

But any excitement Cody felt about the evening died when they drove under the train tracks. There, parked in front of his trailer as if it had never left, was his mom’s car.

Nate braked to a stop next to it, glancing Cody’s way. He’d never asked about her absence. Cody wasn’t sure if Nate realized she’d been gone, or if he simply assumed she was always at work.

“Do you still want me to come in?” Nate asked as he put the truck in park.

Cody’s heart was racing, his stomach queasy with nerves. The shifting light against their thin curtains told him his mom was in the living room, watching TV. “Maybe tonight’s not so good.”

“Okay.” Nate reached over and took his hand. They wouldn’t kiss here—even inside the truck, chances of being seen by the neighbors was too great—but their hands were low enough to be out of sight. Cody took comfort in the gentle pressure on his fingers. “You can call, if you want. Just not after ten.”

Cody nodded, hesitating, wanting to stay hidden in Nate’s truck forever. Maybe they could just turn around and leave. Head for the interstate and drive until they passed the state line. At that moment, he didn’t care which direction they went. It didn’t matter if they ended up in Utah or Colorado or Nebraska, just as long as it wasn’t Warren, Wyoming.

Yeah, Cody. You’ll get real far with five bucks in your pocket and half a tank of gas in Nate’s truck.

He squeezed Nate’s hand one last time before stepping out of the truck. He climbed the front steps slowly, trying to decide what he felt. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved to have her home, or just really angry that she’d been gone at all.

She didn’t turn when he came in. She must have showered as soon as she’d come home, because her hair was still half-wet. She was watching Simon & Simon, an open can of beer on the coffee table, a cigarette burning between her fingers.