Early Sunday morning, Roman watched out the window as Matt pulled up in his Jeep Cherokee and got out. It was the first time Matt had come to Roman's cabin, and he was so nervous. He looked around one more time, but everything was even neater than usual. He'd swept the floor the previous night and that morning too, and he'd polished the small pine table where he ate his meals until it reeked so badly of medicine and lemons that he couldn't even eat his cereal there.
He tugged up the tight biking shorts he was wearing. Tim had loaned them to Roman. He said they were good to wear because they had a big pad and without it your balls would hurt. The shorts were a little small. They also felt weird—they went to mid-thigh, were black, and clung like a second skin. His penis and bits were all caged up in there like they were being punished in solitary confinement. He'd never worn anything like them, and he thought he looked stupid. At least, he did until he opened the door.
Matt stared, his mouth open like he was saying 'ah' at the doctor's office. Roman wondered if there was something wrong with his legs and looked down. They were very muscular. The muscles above his knees were cut like diamonds. And they were also pretty hairy, with soft, curly tan hair. But they looked human enough to Roman.
"Uh..." Matt swallowed. "Wow. You're in great shape."
Roman fidgeted with the door handle, uncomfortable.
"You must work out your legs a lot. Those quads are..." Matt looked up at Roman's face and suddenly blushed. "I mean..." He coughed. "You'll have to tell me about your workout routine. It looks killer."
"Workout routine?"
"Yeah. How much do you squat? Or deadlift?"
For a moment, Roman panicked, having no idea what Matt was talking about. Then something clicked into place. James took Roman with him to the gym on base where James would grunt and groan and sweat and lift big heavy weights on a bar. The soldiers liked to brag about how much weight they lifted. That must be what Matt was talking about.
"I just walk and run a lot," Roman said.
"Man, you must have good genes." Matt took another look at Roman's legs and then looked away.
Roman felt a little warm and his stomach went wobbly. He clutched the doorknob harder. "Come inside. I mean… if you want to."
"For a second, sure." Matt smiled.
Roman stood away from the door. Matt walked in and looked around. The cabin where Roman lived was one of twenty the town owned. It’d been built on town land by volunteers from the pack. Roman had helped build another one this past summer. They were always in need of places for the newly quickened to stay since most of them had no money and no job.
Roman's cabin was so tiny, it only fit one person, so he didn't have to share. It was also farther out of town than most of the pack cared to be. It was a single room with a futon against one wall that made into his bed, an old plaid couch in the middle, an older TV, a coffee table, his small kitchen table where he ate and studied, and a wall of kitchen cupboards, oven, sink, and fridge. He loved it fiercely because it was his. Now that he worked full-time for the town, he didn't even feel guilty about living there without paying rent.
"Geez, Roman, you're so neat and uncluttered. I'm afraid you wouldn't be impressed with my place. I've got so much stuff." Matt went over to the pictures on the wall.
Roman joined him, his chest growing tight. He wanted Matt to look at the pictures, but suddenly they felt so, so private.
"Who's that?" Matt pointed to the picture of James and Roman. It had been taken by a military photographer, and it was Roman’s most prized possession. After he’d gotten to Mad Creek and learned to write, he’d written a letter to James’s sister. Lily had helped him find her address and get the words just right. He’d written that he’d been a friend of James, and told her how brave and wonderful a man James had been. James’s sister had replied with a very nice letter and that photograph.
In the picture, James was squatting down, one knee on the ground, and he had his arm over Roman's shoulder. Roman's tongue hung way out and he looked full of joy. That was before he'd ever become a man.
"That's Sergeant James Pattson." Roman hesitated. "He was my best friend."
Matt turned to look at Roman's face. His smiled faded. "Was?"
"He was killed by a land mine."
"I'm sorry." Matt's voice was quiet. He kept staring at the picture. "My older brother, Mitch, was KIA in Iraq. I was fifteen at the time. Man, that fucked my dad up. Me too. I mean… trying to live up to his memory, you know? So yeah, I get it."
"Do you have a mother?"
Matt huffed and gave Roman an amused look. "Yeah. It's sort of mandatory." He swallowed, his sparkle fading. "She died of breast cancer when I was a kid."
There was an acid thread of pain in Matt's voice that worried Roman's dog, made him sit up and take notice. But Matt changed the subject and the tone vanished. "Hey, do you have any pictures of you with your dog? You were in K-9 too, right?"
"I don't have any pictures like that."
"Was your dog like this one? A German shepherd? He's a beaut." Matt nodded at the photo.
Roman felt out of his depths, like the floor had gone liquid. Lying was so foreign to him. "Y-yes. My dog was just like that one. Can we go now? I have water if you need to fill a water bottle."
"No, I'm all set." Matt pulled away from the picture with a regretful look. Something eased in Roman's chest now that they were off the subject. "I've got both bikes in the back of my Cherokee, so you want to take that?"
"Okay."
"Great. Let's go."
There was unmistakable unease in the air as Roman led them out of his cabin. But he didn't have any idea what it meant.
Despite practicing at Tim and Lance's place, Roman was still nervous about riding a bike. When they set out from the trailhead, being on two wheels felt all wrong. Roman was wobbly and hesitant. Matt rode in front, but he glanced back often. A little way up the trail, he stopped, and Roman awkwardly came to a halt behind him, relieved to put his two feet on the ground.
"You okay?" Matt asked.
"Yes. I don't have much experience on a bicycle."
Matt looked confused. "Oh. Hell, Roman, you should have told me. We don't have to ride today."
"No. I want to try it." And Roman realized that he did. Matt had been looking forward to this, and Roman wanted him to have fun.
"If you're sure. Let's head to that first ridge and see how it goes. We can always turn around."
They continued up the trail. It was a lot harder than when Roman had practiced in Tim's driveway because they were going uphill and there were roots and small rocks. It was difficult to go fast enough to stay upright.
Roman decided that he did not like biking at all. Figuring out how to manage on two legs was hard enough. But then he heard James's voice in his head. Come on, Roman. You can do it! He'd done harder things than this in his training, like climbing up a slippery wet roof with a steep slant. It was about confidence and speed. He pedaled harder, using his quad muscles and picking up speed despite going uphill. That made it much easier not to wobble.
He kept up with Matt, sometimes right on his back tire, because he needed to go fast in order to go at all. Before he knew it, they reached the ridge.
Matt got off the bike and stretched. He grinned at Roman. "That was a nice little workout." He had sweat on his face and neck. Roman found the glistening skin there fascinating. He wondered what it would taste like if he licked it. But dogs did that, not humans.
"Yes, it was hard but good." Roman’s heart pounded, thump thump, from the climb.
"The best things always are." There was a funny, flirty tone in Matt’s voice. Roman blinked at him. Matt cleared his throat and looked away. "You up for some more?" He nodded at the spine of the ridge they were standing on. "It'll be easier going now."
Roman considered it. The ridge had mild, rolling ups and downs, and it went for miles. They'd hiked up there last week, and Matt had fallen in love with it. Roman couldn't blame him. The ridge they stood on was low compared to the mountains around them, so the view was like being in a bowl full of hills. The sky was completely clear and blue, and the day was cool and breezy. The changing leaves were at their peak and the shirring, glimmering blanket of gold and orange had to be the most beautiful thing in the world—Roman was pretty sure. You couldn't even see Mad Creek from there since it was hidden by another ridge. It was like they were all alone on earth—just them, the forest, and all the life Roman could sense in it.
"I want to go on."
"There’s the hard-ass I know and love. Come on." Matt mounted his bike and went first. Roman followed.
It was much easier now, especially with Matt’s words of praise glowing in his chest. Roman liked to be a hard-ass. And he liked the dips in the trail. They went so fast downhill, their speed made them fly up the short inclines. The wind buffeted his face and hands and he found himself smiling. It was a little like being in a car, but he felt as close to the land as he did while hiking. After a few miles, he decided riding a bike wasn't so bad after all. A few miles later, he was filled with joy.
Maybe it wouldn't have been so much fun by himself, but he liked riding behind Matt, seeing his tight form in black biking shorts and an oversized red T-shirt that clung to him in the wind. Matt was his friend. He was pack.
No. He's not pack. Lance’s voice spoke in Roman's head, warning him.
But Roman's heart insisted Matt was. He'd been spending so much time with Matt, and Matt was easy to be with. Even when Roman made mistakes, scratched his ears or said something humans would find peculiar, Matt just shook his head fondly or laughed like Roman was being funny on purpose. Matt laughed at almost everything. His spirit was filled with light even when he was feeling sad. He had a good heart.
They rode for about an hour on the ridge until it came to an end, and the only way to go farther was a steep drop down. Matt got off the bike and stretched again.
"Hey, I brought some brunch."
"Brunch? Isn't that something fancy people do?"
Matt smiled. "Hey, we're fancy. Besides, it's Sunday, isn't it?"
His bike had bags on the back. He unzipped them and pulled out a piece of material that was silver on one side and white on the other. It was very small, but it unfolded to blanket size. Matt put it on the ground and held the corners down with rocks so it wouldn't fly away. Then he brought out a small bottle of champagne and several plastic containers.
"Have a seat." Matt patted the blanket next to him.
Roman lowered Matt's spare bike carefully to the ground and sat down. The containers held little salmon sandwiches in triangles with the crust cut off, grapes and strawberries, and rolled up taco-like things. Roman was really surprised.
"You went to a lot of trouble, but it’s just me," he protested, even though his stomach growled. His inner dog was always hungry.
Matt smiled, a warmer smile than usual. The breeze ruffled his dark hair. He shrugged. "I had a lot of egg sandwiches to make up for."
"But those were from the diner. I didn't make them."
"This wasn't that hard. Luci made the taquitos and the rest was no big deal."
"Okay."
The mention of Luci made Roman frown. She'd seemed nice when Roman had met her at the movies. But she was a pretty girl, and the idea that she lived with Matt, and got to spend all that time with him at home, maybe even sleep in bed with him... it made Roman feel bad. He ate a salmon sandwich as delicately as he could manage and tried to figure out why he felt that way.
When he'd been with James, they were together 24/7. No one had been closer to either of them than they’d been to each other. Roman felt a tug inside himself to Matt, to be like that with Matt. And it was confusing, because he knew that wasn't how it was. Matt was not James, and Roman wasn't a dog any longer. He had responsibilities of his own now, even if most of those currently revolved around Matt.
The mental complexity of it bothered him, fuzzed his brain. His dog wanted to simplify all of it, wanted Matt to be pack and to be his friend all the time, and for that to be the end of it. It wasn't. Matt went home at night and Roman wasn't allowed there. Besides, Lance wanted something else entirely.
"What do you think?" Matt waggled the small bottle of champagne. "It's not enough to get us drunk, but think you can steer that bike downhill with a little bit of this in you?"
"Yes. Does it have bubbles? I had one once with bubbles. I really liked it." It had been at a pack New Year's Eve party. Roman remembered it well.
"Yes, it has bubbles, tough guy," Matt said with a smirk. He unwrapped the foil around the top and pointed the bottle away, popping it. Spray flew out and hit the rocks and a gust of wind blew it right into Matt's face. He sputtered in shock.
Something about it was so, so funny. Roman felt a pain in his stomach that worked its way up his throat and burst out of his mouth. He thought it was a bark but, no, it was a laugh. A big one. The sound coming out of his own mouth was so surprising it made him laugh harder.
Matt grinned at him, wiping his face with his sleeve. "It gets shaken up in the paniers."
The word paniers was hilarious too! The laughter erupted from Roman’s chest in an almost painful way. Fortunately, it was more ha ha ha than howl. He pulled up his knees and put his forehead against them until he could get it under control. Laughter. Real human laughter. Another first. God, what a wonderful feeling!
When he finally caught his breath and raised his head, Matt was watching him with a warm, happy expression. "Found that amusing, did you?"
"Yes." Roman's breath was still shaky and a smile stretched his lips.
"Uh-huh. Remind me to watch out for banana peels around you. Wouldn't want you to hyperventilate." Whatever his words meant, their sound was light and friendly, so that was all right.
Matt took a drink from the bottle and handed it to Roman. Roman decided it must be okay, even though Leesa got really mad if he drank from bottles at work. The tip smelled and tasted of Matt, sweaty and clean at the same time. The champagne was sour in a good way and the bubbles fizzed in his mouth.
Roman handed Matt the bottle, took a taquito, and bit into it. It was crispy and cheesy and very yummy. This? The champagne and the food and the day and the view and the laughing... this was very good. This was perfect. And Roman knew enough to appreciate a perfect moment when he had it.
They ate the meal, passing the bottle back and forth between them. Roman liked the taste of Matt on the neck of the bottle even more than the champagne, and he tried to discreetly lick to get more of it. Inside the biking shorts, he started to feel tingly and the material got tighter.
He looked up to find Matt watching him, his brown eyes darkened. Roman passed him the bottle and turned away on the blanket. He brought his knees to his chest to hide what was going on down there. This isn't the time for that! He was going to break these shorts, and then he’d really look stupid. He ate some grapes.
"Roman?" Matt's voice sounded funny.
"Yes?" Roman didn't turn around.
Matt cleared his throat. "There's something I wanted... that is..."
Roman waited.
Matt huffed. "Okay. So, obviously Sheriff Beaufort is still not happy about having me in town."
Roman didn’t think that was what Matt meant to say, but he answered. "He likes you okay as a man." He shifted back around so he could see Matt’s face.
Matt batted his eyes in confusion. "Right. Well, that's good. But—" He rubbed his jaw with his hand, uncomfortable. "Look, I'm not an idiot. Clearly the sheriff has told the whole town something about me. Everyone acts like I've got leprosy. And you've been doing your damndest to keep me out of town."
"Our work is in the woods," Roman said earnestly, though he could feel his face grow warm.
Matt held up a hand. "I know. I'm not saying... look, you've been tremendously helpful. And I do believe you're as interested in stopping any possible drug farms as I am—"
"I am."
"Right. So. I'm not trying to come down on you or anything. I just... there's something going on in town. And I wondered if you would tell me what it is."
Roman didn't know what to say. His mouth would not form the lie he needed. He stared into Matt's eyes, not wanting to show fear or appear to back down submissively.
"Roman?"
"Lance Beaufort is a good man," Roman said. "He's a very good man."
Matt nodded. "Okay. He seems to be. But—"
"Mad Creek... it's a different kind of place." Roman expelled an anxious sigh that was almost a whine. "The people there... there are a lot of vulnerable people there. People who need protection. Lance only wants to keep them safe. And so do I. We're like a big family."
Matt shook his head, confusion all over his face. "Safe from what?"
"From..." Ideas tripped through Roman's head, but none of them felt like the right thing to say. Either they were too close to the truth or they made no sense. He felt helpless. He closed his eyes. "Trust me. There are things that—if people outside knew, it would hurt my town and all the people in it. But it's nothing to do with drugs or your job. And it's nothing bad. Please believe me." He put his heart into his words. He didn't want to be at odds with Matt. He wanted to be Matt's friend. He wished so hard that he could just trust him and tell the truth.
Matt looked at Roman for a long time, as if making a decision. "All right, Roman," he finally said. "But I hope someday you can talk to me."
"Me too." Roman wondered if that would ever be possible.
They went back to eating. Roman sensed that Matt was still frustrated, but that he was letting it go for the time being. But for how long? Would there come a time when he'd find himself on opposite sides of the battlefield from Matt? He hoped that day wouldn't come.
Soon every container was empty and the bottle was too. Matt leaned back on the blanket with his arms propped behind him, face to the sun. His eyes appeared to be closed behind his sunglasses, so Roman let himself stare. Matt was very fit. He was a healthy-looking animal. And his face made Roman feel happy inside. Strange. When he’d made that bad mistake in Coarsegold, lost his mind and thought Matt was James during that firefight, maybe he hadn’t been so wrong after all. Matt wasn’t James, but something about him was. Roman liked him almost as much.
Matt opened his eyes and caught him. Roman looked away quickly.
"Roman?" Matt said, his voice soft.
"Yes, Matt?"
"There's something else I wanted to ask you."
Roman waited. When Matt didn't speak again, he wondered if he was supposed to say it was okay. "You can ask."
Matt cleared his throat and took a heavy breath. "I wondered... that is.... Dumb question but... are you straight?"
Roman looked out over the view at an eagle soaring nearby, but he was very aware of Matt in his peripheral vision. He sensed in Matt's body language and tone that the question was important, but he didn't understand why. Hell, he didn't understand the question.
Was he straight? What did Matt mean by that? Was he asking if Roman was a liar? Or a thief? There was some phrase Lance used sometimes—something about being 'on the level'. Was that what Matt meant?
As usual, when Roman was unsure of what was going on in human communication, he faked it. "Sure," he said, casually.
"Sure... you are straight?"
"I'm straight." Roman looked right at Matt and nodded confidently.
"Right. Of course. Yeah, dumb question."
Something changed in the air between them. Matt went back to basking in the sun, but there was tension in his body and something sad or even angry crackled in the air. Roman wished he could fix it, but he didn't know how.
"Well, we should head back," Matt said after a minute. "I promised Luci I wouldn't be too late. We were invited to dinner at Beaufort's place tonight."
"Okay." Roman got up and helped put things away. In just a few minutes, everything was stored back in Matt's paniers.
"Beat you to the bottom," Matt said, but his tone didn't make it sound fun the way it should have.
Roman tried to play along anyway. "Never." He hopped on his bike and took off fast.
He stayed in the lead because it was easier going downhill. The wind still whipped his arms and face, but the day felt ruined. And when Matt dropped Roman off at his cabin, he didn't think either of them was sorry it was over.