Chapter Two

Greg focused on making sure he had the right books for the correct class. He only had two classes left, and the semester's end drew nearer. College had dragged on for over three years. He needed a break. He'd maintained a full load of classes until the last semester. Working on the farm full-time hadn't left a lot of time for much besides that and school. He wasn't exactly a social butterfly, which was his biggest problem when it came to Brian.

Not that he was thinking of Brian. Again.

Greg threw a mechanical pencil and two pens into his backpack before zipping it up and putting it on one shoulder.

He had an hour and a half to drive forty-five minutes but walking across campus took ten minutes, and he wanted to stop by the university library to drop off a book. Even with all that, he still had plenty of time to get to class.

Leonard and Neil were wrapping up the last of the chores, feeding the animals one last time before they headed into the bunkhouse, routine stuff that happened every day. Every Monday and Wednesday, Greg couldn't help because he had classes, but that wouldn't be the case in a few short weeks.

Greg smiled even as he went into the kitchen. He put the backpack onto the table and opened the cupboard to the right of the sink. They kept reusable water bottles at the very top. Leonard had read an article about how plastic ruined the environment and had stopped buying bottled water. Since the well water on the farm tasted good, he stocked up on reusable bottles instead.

When the phone rang, he reached over and picked up the receiver. The landline hung on the wall next to the refrigerator. The kitchen space was small enough that Greg didn't have to leave the sink. He held the phone with his shoulders while he finished filling the bottle. "Hello."

"Can I speak to Greg?" The voice on the other end had a slight accent and sounded like Andrew, Jaron's best friend.

Andrew was a cop from the city. He'd visited several times over the years and Greg had had a good time with him while he'd been there. Greg counted Andrew as a friend, but they had never called each other on the phone before. "You are."

"How are you?" The accent thickened.

"Confused. Sorry, I don't mean to be rude. It's good to hear from you."

"Yeah, I get it, vato. I'm the new police chief in town. You probably heard about that." Andrew had been at Bobby's party last weekend and knew he'd stayed with Jaron and Travis. Greg hadn't asked questions, so he figured it was a routine visit like always.

"I heard the chief planned on retiring. Didn't know you took the job." What Greg wanted to know was what that had to do with him.

"I'll get right to it. Sherri Mitchell is your mother, right?"

Greg stiffened. "I haven't talked or had anything to do with her or my dad since I was sixteen." Except he'd gone to get his guitar out of his old house four years ago. That had been a shitshow he'd rather not remember.

"One of my deputies arrested Sherri last night on a drug charge. With all her priors she'll be incarcerated for a while. I thought I'd tell you myself." Before he heard about it through the gossip-mill, was implied. It seemed like the city cop had caught onto small town life pretty quick.

"I appreciate that." Greg's hands shook. Every thought in his mind fled until a numbness took over.

"I'll keep her at the jail for as long as I can. In case you want to talk to her."

"I don't." The response came out of his mouth without thought. The indifference he tried to force on himself disappeared. In its place was a roar that started out gentle and grew in intensity the longer he stayed on the phone.

He clenched his jaw and picked the bottle of water up before slamming it down into the sink. The plastic at the bottom broke, and water leaked out of the crack.

"Closure helps."

Greg threw the bottle into the trash can and retrieved the metal one from the cupboard, starting all over again. "I…I'll take that into consideration."

Andrew sighed but didn't comment other than to end the phone call.

Greg finished filling his water bottle and pretended he wasn't picturing his mother in a jail cell. The only image that stuck in his mind was the one from the last time he'd seen her. His mother had been full of rage more times than not, and that was what had stuck with him throughout the years of separation.

Greg had no idea what the professor discussed. It didn't matter anyway because he'd already finished the last homework assignment and the final paper. The class was a three hundred level history course that satisfied one of the prerequisite requirements for the undergraduate degree. He'd left it for last because it had sounded easy and he needed easy on the last semester.

A George Michael song, about wanting someone's sex, blasted through the room. His bag and all its contents muffled the music a little. Not that it did anything for the embarrassment.

The professor stopped talking and met his gaze. Thankfully the class was a small one. Twenty-two other students besides himself laughed.

He scrambled to get his phone, which sat at the very bottom of the bag. He pulled it out and turned the volume down.

He met the professor's gaze. "Sorry."

The professor had a smirk on his face. "Interesting choice in ringtones."

"My best friend. He changes it on me all the time. Thinks it's funny." Kyler would pay for this.

The professor chuckled. "He's not wrong."

The guy had dark hair and olive skin with part of a poem inked around his left arm. Greg sat in class and read the parts he could when the lecture proved dull. The poem was an old one, written by an Italian woman who had died a long time ago. Greg had read it before in an English literature class he had taken his very first semester of college, so he had the thing memorized.

Greg smiled. "You'll understand if I don't tell him you said that."

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he shook his head. Everyone laughed again.

The professor glanced at his watch. "And on that note, we'll take a break. Ten minutes." He met Greg's gaze again. "Thank your friend for the chuckle, Mr. Mitchell."

Half the class stood from their desks and left the room, probably heading to the café on the first floor.

Greg winced when his phone's screen showed a picture of Kyler's nipple. "I'm in class."

"Please tell me you forgot to shut off your phone again."

"Asshole." Greg tried to whisper it soft enough so the professor couldn't hear, but he could tell by the smirk that he had. Greg nodded to the professor before leaving the room, standing in the hallway. "At least the whole class didn't see that mistake of a nipple pic."

"My nipple is never a mistake, you big beautiful boy, you." Kyler knew Greg hated it when someone called him a boy. He had a baby face that he couldn't grow out of no matter what he did. He'd grown his hair long and had a bit of a beard, and he still appeared younger than his years. "You need to lighten up some, Doc."

"Yeah, yeah. Next weekend let's go out." Maybe he would drink enough to forget about Andrew's phone call. He could stand to get laid finally. It wasn't as if he held out for Brian.

"Wait, do I have the wrong number? Doc wants to have a good time for once. What in the hell is the world coming to? If I were there, I would check you for a fever." Sarcastic humor dripped from Kyler's voice.

"It's the first day of the rest of my life. I want to celebrate."

"Totally down for that. So the reason I called was to see if you could bring some beer for the party on Friday. Not the cheap stuff either. Gotta break in the new digs in style."

"No problem. Super proud of you, man."

Kyler was a new homeowner and the house was two blocks up from the neighborhood where Greg's parents used to live. Kyler's home was on the smaller side, but he had worked his ass off for everything, saving every dime until he had enough for a nice down payment.

Kyler and Greg had a lot in common on the shitty childhood front. Of course, they had nothing else, but they didn't seem to need much to create a lasting friendship.

Kyler's mom had died when he was in the fourth grade, and he never knew his father. A typical story, right down to coming to small-town Pickleville to live with his aunt, who hadn't wanted a kid.

"Now who's the boy?" Greg grinned at Kyler not being of age to buy beer.

"Four months and then I'm retiring the fake ID."

"Why do you need me to get the beer again?" Jeff at the liquor store knew Kyler wasn't twenty-one yet and hadn't cared much, so Greg didn't know why Kyler stressed over it.

"The new chief, who is hot as fuck, by the way. Have you seen him?"

Greg smiled again. "I know him, yeah."

"Well, he talked to Jeff. Threatened really, which was not cool. How the hell did he know about Jeff selling to minors? That's what I want to know."

"Andrew isn't stupid."

"Wait. You know him? Like know him, know him?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "I'll invite him to your party." Because Greg knew that was where Kyler would take the conversation anyway and the ten-minute break ticked down a lot faster than he had time to tell what he knew of Andrew's story, not that it was much.

"I want details later."

"I'll come by after class."

"Bring a bottle of something good. Like rum or vodka."

"Can't spend the night, man." And Greg didn't drink and drive. Ever.

Greg had had a total of two drinks in his entire life, and one was because his father had made him try his whiskey when he was thirteen. The other one he didn't want to contemplate. It involved Kyler's basement and some bad Long Island ice teas. Greg had puked up a whole lot of tequila. Now he couldn't even stand the smell of the stuff.

Kyler sighed. "I'll miss using the ID. Made me feel like a badass."

"Isn't the name on that thing Chung Ming or something and the picture is of a Norwegian lumberjack type?"

"It's Sing Jung actually, and I don't know what a Norwegian is."

"Norway is a country. Norwegians are—"

"For the love of God, do not get on one of your weird tangents."

"I don't have tangents." His classmates started filing into the classroom. "I gotta go."

"Vodka, Greg."

"No." He hung up and shut off his phone, because knowing Kyler he'd try to call again. Greg pocketed the phone and told himself he'd remember to change the ringtone after class.