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“Ironic or poignant? There’s something to be said for forgetting what you thought you knew and being open to new possibility.”

I narrowed my gaze suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

Coop just smiled. “It means get your head out of your ass, Reg. Life is short. Stop waiting for other people to grow up or grow old or whatever. We’re gonna be fifty in a couple of years. Fifty! We’re not spring chickens, but there’s a lot of living to do still, you know?”

“Yes, and I appreciate the pep talk. You’re forgetting that Waylon lives in Virginia now.”

“Ah, and you don’t have a phone,” he snarked. “Or a car. Shit. You’ve never been to an airport. Or a train station.”

I huffed a laugh, but my voice wavered when I spoke. “It’s over, Coop. We were never going to be anything more.”

“That’s too bad. ’Cause you seemed very fucking happy with him. And being happy is everything.” Cooper squeezed my shoulder and headed for the sliding glass door.

Happy.

This had been my idea of happiness for a while. To be an out queer man in the town where I hadn’t felt free to be myself as a kid. But what if there was more?

My head suddenly spun in twenty directions. I wanted that. I wanted Waylon.

Or was it really too late?

I thought about texting or calling and decided I’d just fuck it up and type something embarrassing, like Thinking of you, which would sound borderline stalker-ish after two weeks apart.

Or maybe not. I couldn’t tell anymore.

Unfortunately, Cooper was the only one who knew Waylon’s schedule. Mill Depot’s Richmond location wasn’t open for business yet and I wouldn’t have known where to find him without help. Except, according to his secretary, a.k.a. my sister, Cooper was in Burlington for a few days. I’d have to wait.

Layla cocked her head curiously. “Is that a problem?”

“No. Why?”

“You tell me. You’re acting weird.”

She was right. I was. I was fidgety as fuck. Not a good look for a chief of police. I fussed with my collar and paced the length of her desk.

“If I ask you something, would you promise to keep it to yourself?”

“Like…not tell anyone?” she teased, snickering at my annoyed expression. “Just kidding. Yes! What is it?”

“Do you know where I might find Waylon…specifically?”

Layla arched a brow. “Who wants to know?”

“Layla…”

“Okay, okay. Yes, I know where he is…generally speaking. But he’s sort of surrounded by loggers he doesn’t really know yet. If you want to see him…”

“I do.”

“Then it might be better if you show up at his apartment. Wait…no. You might have to sit there a while. He’s had to do site evals and I think he was in Atlanta yesterday. Honestly, you should ask him to come here.”

I flopped onto the chair across from hers in defeat and pulled out my cell. A text it was.

I miss you. I think about you every day. Is there any chance you think we could try long distance? It wouldn’t be easy, but this is hell.

That was terrible. I erased the message with a sigh as my rover crackled loud enough to make me jump. I adjusted the volume, half listening to the barrage of information regarding speeding vehicles as I attempted another message.

“Summer’s coming early. We’ve got a traffic jam on the Elmwood Pass.”