Chapter 1

Carl had never thought of himself as a Dead-End Dude, but he'd heard it from an out-of-town customer upset that his selection of magazines ‘lacked journalistic integrity', and now he couldn't quite forget it.

Dead-End Dude. He ran his own convenience store, thankyouverymuch. It had regularly replenished refrigerated drinks and a dairy section, there was a bread and cereal aisle, junk food for on the go, all your bathroom and kitchen whatever, and everything a pet owner would ever need, from anti-flea drips to oversize dog kennels.

Dead-End Dude.

He was practically a lifesaver in his curtain-twitching hometown. How many cakes had he saved with his fresh-from-the-farm eggs? And how much more miserable would the keen-eyed, hardworking policemen of Earnest Point be without his cream donuts? That really benefited everyone. Especially those like himself, who might leave their bike a little too close to a fire hydrant every so often. Or ride too fast on the footpath. Or forget their helmet. Or draw a picture of a yawning cat on a lamppost—which should totally be excusable if it makes a crying girl with pigtails laugh again.

Dead End . . .

Carl shook his head and flipped the pages of the mag he was browsing through till he reached the horoscopes. See! Capricorn was the least Dead-End-Dude of the entire zodiac. Practical. Determined. Hardworking. Protective.

Jobs most suitable for a Capricorn: Accountant. He absolutely kept his own books. And updated them every month with his trusty four-colour biro and a highlighter.

Lawyer—he might as well be one considering the times he'd weaselled his way out of fines at the local precinct.

School Hall Monitor—oh, he had to keep an eye on the kids all right. They loved trying to get away with potbellies made of lollies, or attempting to buy beer with straggly moustaches.

Sisyphus—haha, totally him. He'd run this store day in, day out since he was eighteen. That was eight whole years, and there'd be another eighty.

Nothing about that screamed Dead-End Dude.

‘Journalist integrity'. Honestly, who wanted to keep dosing themselves into depression? It was to everyone's benefit that his magazines focused on practical matters—farming, horsing, gardening, food, fashion, fun. This was him protecting—top Capricorn trait—his fellow Earnest Pointers.

Also, not only did he have job stability and was his own boss, he had friends and family. He drank occasionally with beer buddies, regularly visited his aunt who posed as his mum, and bonded with his mum who pretended to be his cousin. Wasn't that some crazy-sounding roundabout? Dead-End Dude. "Absolute rubbish."

"What's rubbish?"

Carl lifted his head to his cousin (his real mum who didn't know he knew that and wouldn't ever as far as he was concerned) rushing towards him in a whirl of colour and lipstick. The smooch smacked the dimple of his grin, and she snatched the mag out of his hands.

"Ohh, this part sounds promising. ‘Single Capricorns might have an increased desire for a permanent, fully committed relationship'." She dropped the mag on the counter and her gaze veered left. A sparkle hit her eye. "What's with the doghouse next to the counter here? Why does it have a big, floppy bow on it?"

Carl smirked. That was another thing. He not only had this store, friends and family, he had a boyfriend.

He moved to the kennel, patted the top of the fake-ceramic-tiled roof, and pointed inside. "My future."

"Is in the doghouse?"

"Yeah." He grinned and waved her in to see how awesome it all looked.

She came back out bouncing on her heels and gave him their special high-five-flick. "That's way cooler than a velvet box."

Carl threaded his fingers through his hair. "I want to surprise Pete when he finally gets back from uni this afternoon. It's been too long, this distance schtick. I'm ready for settling. He mentioned not being sure about where he'd stay last week—this solves that. He can move in with me."

"Ohmygod," she yelped and threw her arms around his neck, and then she yelped again, jerking a finger towards the sliding doors. Pete—fresh off the bus in casual jeans and geeky t-shirt—was trundling a suitcase towards the store. "I'll flip the sign to closed on my way out!"

She left with a dazzling hello to Pete, and Pete gave her a toothy smile and a hello back. Carl had been seeing that smile since they were three and got into mischief at kindergarten, and twenty-three years later, he still couldn't get enough of it.

He leapt over the counter, not caring he sent the mag slithering to the floor in his enthusiasm, and engulfed Pete in a fierce hug of flannel. He stepped back, rubbing Pete's upper arms as he took him all in. A little thinner than usual, and his gaze looked tired, lacking its usual glitter. "You eating enough?"

"It's been busy. Especially this last semester."

Explained why he'd called less and less. Carl wagged a finger at him, but he was the kind of guy who understood boundaries, people having stresses and needing space. It was okay that Pete had focused more on his studies.

"Let me take your suitcase—" Carl reached for it, but Pete stood it at his side.

"It's all good." Pete glanced at the kennel behind Carl. "What's this?"

A rush of nerves exploded in Carl's stomach; he rubbed his damp palms over the back of his jeans and sunk his fingers into the pockets. He nicked his head for Pete to come closer, and Pete took a few steps with a slight frown regarding the bow.

"We always said we'd get a dog someday," Carl said after clearing a lump in his throat. "I thought, now you're moving back, we could start on that soon? Ah, have a look inside."

Pete stared at the kennel, unmoving, and dropped his chin to his chest. Carl zipped to his side. "What's up?" He tucked a finger under Pete's chin and raised his head. Shimmery tears filled Pete's eyes. Carl never did tears himself but the sight of them had his heart pounding. He hauled Pete into a hug. "Hey, hey. I've got ya."

Pete shook his head against Carl's shoulder before resting it, catching his breath, and pulling out of his arms. "You're my best friend. You're really important to me. So this is hard."

"What's wrong? I'll help."

Pete met his gaze, his shadowed and wet. "Things have been different since I went to uni."

"Sure. It's been bloody hard work for you!"

"I meant . . . us. The boyfriending."

"Well, long distance. We can make it easier from now on." Carl gestured towards the kennel and Pete grabbed his extended arm and squeezed it.

"I don't want to."

Carl's ears pounded. He wasn't quite sure he'd heard that right. Before he could ask for a repeat, Pete continued. "Being apart made me realise. We're not really in love—wait, let me finish. I know we love each other, but it's like... family."

Carl didn't need clarification now. He rocked back on his heels. His gut felt like it was punched up his throat and might come out if he opened his mouth, so he kept it shut.

"We're better as friends. Best friends."

Carl nodded and nodded. He shoved a trembling hand through his hair and hoped his voice didn't catch. "Is there someone?"

Pete let out a long, slow breath.

"There is. —Not like that. I haven't acted on any of those feelings."

"But you have feelings."

Pete stepped forward and Carl did his best to stand still, not step back. He swallowed it all down.

"That's how I know what we have isn't love. Not passionate, romantic love."

Carl scratched the back of his head and stepped to the side, between Pete and his stupid proposal. Got this one wildly wrong. "Is that right?"

"I'm sorry."

"I mean... what's he like?" His throat tightened as he forced a laugh. "He'd better be good for my... best friend."

"We don't have to do this—"

"No, no. Let's. Get it all out now so I can process it all at once. Is he very different?"

Pete looked towards the journalistic-integrity-free magazine stand. "He's a mature student, like me. Started vet school after travelling the world. He's super fond of animals and got top marks in all his subjects; he tutored me in farm practical training, especially the agrichemicals modules..."

Pete got lost in admiring details of talented Nick, and Carl kept running his hand through his hair and nodding as his store suddenly came into sharp focus around him. This is what his life and future looked like. Hot pies, magazines, pet products, and emergency eggs.

"He has to do a six-month placement at a rural practice, and since we got on so well, he applied to one in Earnest Point."

"You're . . . moving in together?"

"I haven't told him my feelings yet, I needed to talk to you first. But I think he knows. Or he's... aware. He'd treat me well, Carl."

"Right." Nick could offer free medical care for their hypothetical dog for its hypothetical long life. Carl could offer a kennel. "Right."

Dead-End Dude.

He scrolled a hand through his hair again, nodding and nodding. Even forced out his dimples. "Right. Yeah. Sounds like he's a better fit. I'm curious to meet him."

Pete smiled dreamily, and it hit Carl like a storm. He could barely hold on.

This is what it felt like to be dashed to pieces.