“Sorta. He told me you canceled your show, and I hung up on him to call you. I needed to hear your voice.”
It was such a relief to know they both wanted to figure this out. He could hear it in Colt’s voice, in the honesty in his lover’s concern for him. It might be hard at first, but if they were honest, they’d find that magic again.
“I’m okay, love. I’ll be just fine. Even better when you get here.”
21
Colt hadsent him a Christmas tree. He didn’t know you could send people Christmas trees, but he’d opened the door this morning and in it came. Some hunky guys set it up and turned on the lights, and a tiny little girl decorated it with colored balls and a sweet felt tree skirt. They’d swept out the way they’d come in, leaving him with a festive sunroom.
How cool was that? And how sweet was his music man?
Kyle had his foot up high and the stereo up higher, bags of frozen peas packed around his toes. He’d been on total rest except for the one show he did a night, but tonight’s show had been the last one. Closing night. They’d put that baby to bed.
He’d overdone it. It wasn’t a conscious thing. It just kind of happened with the energy of the last performance. It was worth it, but he was paying for it now.
He lay there in his recliner, taking in the tree and allowing it to cheer him up while he relaxed and let the painkillers kick in. In his head, he was dancing. Choreographing. Making the best use of this mess that he could and trying to be okay with the fact that the whole cast was out celebrating without him.
Colt was on the road somewhere. They’d talked before the show, and at some point when he found a good place to stop again, Kyle knew he’d call to say good night.
Timmy had been at the show and had made sure he got home okay, but he’d sent Timmy home after that, saying he was tired, but mostly he just didn’t want anyone fussing over him for a little while. It was time he figured this out for himself.
It had been all of half an hour. So far so good.
His phone rang, a low bluesy sound filling the air. Colt.
“Hello, lover. Are you driving safe?” Baby, lover—maybe he didn’t really have the right to use those again yet, but so far Colt hadn’t complained.
“Sort of. How you, cher?”
“I’m… well? I’m going to miss that show, and I’m kind of glad it’s over at the same time. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
“Surely. I’m sorry you’re hurt. What you doing tonight?”
“Not a thing. I’m sitting in my reclining chair in the sunroom, listening to music and dancing in my head. Totally serious. I’m pathetic. And tired.”
“You want to share a pizza?”
He laughed. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Soon, right? How long? Where are you?”
“Standing on your stoop with a pepperoni and mushroom.”
“What?” He sat up. “What? Oh my God. I…. Okay, I’m coming. Hang on. I just… be patient. I gotta put the phone down.” He hung up. He hauled himself out of his chair, letting the ice packs fall to the floor, scooped up his crutch, and hobbled his way across the house to the front door. Fucking pizza was probably cold, and Colt was probably colder waiting on him. At least the pizza was from New York.
He unlocked the door and pulled it partway open, as far as he could manage with his crutch in the way.
“Hey, cher. I brought supper.” Colt eased his way in, shut the door behind him. “Let me put this down, and I’ll help you settle, hmm?”
He didn’t want to settle, he wanted a kiss.
Colt looked… thin. Not bad, really, just a little drawn in the face, and his tiny butt seemed even skinnier. Nothing that some beer and five or six more pizzas couldn’t fix.
He followed Colt toward the kitchen, though a lot more slowly. “This is a lovely surprise. Did you know when we talked before the show that you’d be here tonight?”
“I hoped. I didn’t want to disappoint you if I was wrong.” Colt came back to him, helped him sit down. “What you want to drink?”
“Just water is fine. Thank you.” He watched Colt move around his kitchen, smiling slightly just because he liked it so much. He’d been thinking about this moment for a couple of days, but he didn’t know Colt would be here so soon, and he hadn’t decided how he needed to handle it. The only thing he knew for sure is he’d done a lot of talking and not enough listening. “Pizza smells so good.”
“It does. It’s good here.” Colt got his foot propped up, got him a plate and a glass of water.