39. Davis

Davis had never been on a surprise date, something that one of Jeremy’s friends would probably say was an issue of the patriarchy. When he had dated before, it was within the “confines of the expectations of the gendered binary,” as Emmy had said one night after too many gin and tonics when Ryan tried to pay for her dinner. But he liked this, the idea that someone was taking care of him. He had never imagined it could be like this.

Davis had received a mysterious text from Jeremy during the week, which just said Are you free Saturday? Davis had responded with a thumbs-up, and Jeremy then texted that he would drive out to the mountains and pick Davis up for a date.

As long as Davis didn’t mind spending the night at Jeremy’s house.

And while Davis still liked his cabin better than Jeremy’s house, he had gotten used to spending evenings there. And, usually once a week, Davis returned the favor as host, enjoying evenings in the rocking chairs on the back porch, looking at the mountains.

A part of Davis— the part that still wondered if he could stop with just one drink, the part that wondered if he had done the wrong thing by moving out to Colorado instead of taking up space in his hometown, his parents be damned— wondered how long he could continue to exist in these two separate worlds.

Jeremy had picked Davis up with a bouquet of wildflowers (“I made sure the florist only used local Colorado wildflowers,” he had said) and a treat for Mary Anne. Alex agreed to watch the dog for the day, and Davis left a set of probably too-detailed instructions for his friend, along with Davis’s number, the number for the local vet, and three emergency vets if something went wrong.

“Baby, it’s just one night,” Jeremy said, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “She’s stayed with Alex before.” Jeremy nodded to the other man.

“I know, Jeremy, but I worry about her,” he said, handing the leash over to Alex. He turned and looked at the other ranger. “Will she sleep in your bed?”

“No,” Alex replied. “Just I sleep in my bed.”

Davis rolled his eyes and watched Mary Anne trot past Alex, give Caveman a loving sniff and begin to explore the house. “I will bet you five bucks that she’s on your bed right now.”

Alex leaned back, far enough to see down the hallway and into his bedroom, if his cabin had the same layout as Davis’s. A small sigh, a laugh, and a tiny shake of the head told Davis that Mary Anne had commandeered Alex’s bed.

“You gonna go show her whose house this is?” Davis asked.

“She looks so happy there,” Alex said, defeated.

“Pushover,” Davis replied, while Jeremy giggled in the corner.

Davis sat in Jeremy’s car, still a bit concerned that even his nice boots were too dirty for the car. It was immaculate, not a speck of dirt anywhere. “Your car looks like you just drove it off the lot.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy said. “I didn’t own a car until I moved out to Colorado—”

“What? How?”

“I grew up in a city that actually believes in public transportation,” Jeremy replied. “Like, I knew the fundamentals of driving— my dad made me learn on Long Island— but I never had to use it. I went to college in Philadelphia and could either walk or take the train anywhere.”

“Whew,” Davis said, blowing out air through his teeth in a whistle that reminded him a bit too much of his Pap. “I’ve been driving since I was ten? I dunno, probably sometime around then.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child.” Davis laughed. “Of course it’s illegal, but who is gonna tell anyone? Plus, every one of my friends had a story about having to go drag some aunt or uncle or parent out of a dive bar before they had their learner’s permit. It came with the territory. Plus, you could always make a few extra bucks each summer if you knew how to drive a tractor or a riding mower to cut grass or pick up a farm shift, so it came in handy.”

“You had a difficult life, huh?” Jeremy said. And when Davis had heard those words before, from a counselor or people in undergrad or at conferences he had been to, it had usually been accompanied by his least favorite emotion— pity. But Jeremy never made Davis feel like a charity project, never made it seem like Jeremy felt sorry for him. It was just a fact.

“Yeah, it was a bit rough, but…” Davis raised one shoulder a bit uncomfortably in Jeremy’s thin car. “There’s a lot of good there, too. A lot of good people, even if they’re a bit rough around the edges. Like me.”

“You’re not rough around the edges,” Jeremy said. “You’re…weathered. Like a beautiful piece of driftwood or something.”

“That’s almost sweet,” Davis said, deflecting the compliment.

“Plus, you have a gooey center. I’ve seen you with Mary Anne.” Jeremy reached across the center console and placed his hand on Davis’s thigh, his palm a comforting warmth. “I’ve seen you with me.”

Davis’s heart flopped around and probably did a few somersaults, and it was at that moment that Davis realized that he had never felt about anyone the way that he felt about Jeremy.