Lone Star by Josh Lanyon

ambition of becoming a professional dancer—failure had no longer been an option.
    And now?
    Maybe Web wasn’t so far wrong. Mitch was about to be handed everything he’d worked and trained and sacrificed for. This was no time for second-guessing the decisions he’d made and it was sure as hell no time to trade off a bird in the hand for two in the Texas Hill Country bush.
    If Web had asked him to stay…
    But Web hadn’t. He’d just walked away and that had been that. Once again it was all on Mitch to take it or leave it.
    And once again Mitch was going to leave it.
    Decision made. That was a huge relief.
    Or it would be a huge relief when that weird ache beneath his heart went away.

Chapter Seven
    The Engstroms lived in a modern Spanish-style home surrounded by palm and citrus trees. The palm trees were wound in bright Christmas lights. The driveway was crowded with cars.
    Mitch sat in his parked car staring at the giant nativity scene dominating the front yard and tried to figure out what he was doing there. He hated big parties full of strangers. He hated little parties full of strangers. He hated parties. He hated strangers.
    But Web was going to be at this party, and it seemed to Mitch that it might be easier to speak to him in neutral surroundings than in the midst of his family. If things went well at the Engstroms, maybe they could go somewhere afterward and really talk, because for all Mitch kept telling himself that his mind was all made up, he couldn’t help thinking that he’d made that mistake once before.
    He made himself get out of the car and walk up the long, wide cement walk.
    It turned out not to be so bad after all. Gidget was surprised and delighted at Mitch’s appearance and insisted on pouring a double margarita and introducing him to everyone in sight. It was hard not to relax under the influence of so warm a welcome.
    “I told you everyone in these parts loves the ballet.” Gidget ushered him out to the long buffet table laden with homemade tamales, chili-cheese quesadillas, armadillo eggs, fried jalapeños, Texas caviar made with black-eyed peas, and chicken enchilada puffs. There was a separate dessert table with cinnamon cookies, bizcocho, butterscotch pie, pan de polvo, bunuelos, Three Kings Bread, and maraschino cherries marinated in chocolate vodka.
    “I don’t think most of these people give a damn about ballet, but I guess it’s true that Texans are the friendliest people in the world.”
    “If you do say so yourself.”
    Mitch laughed. His smile faded at the sight of Web out on the patio with a circle of other tall, rugged-looking men who, he guessed, were also Texas Rangers. The men drank beer and joked amongst themselves.
    “I’m packing pounds on just looking at this table.” Gidget sighed.
    Web hadn’t spotted Mitch. He was listening to a tall man with dark, curly hair who was, judging by the expression of the others, telling a long and familiar story. The other man finished, Web drawled something, and the ring of men burst out laughing.
    Mitch smiled faintly. He didn’t need to hear the words to know that the wisecrack was classic Web.
    As though feeling his gaze, Web glanced at the sliding glass doors and caught sight of Mitch. He turned away, said something to the group. There was more laughter. Web asked the man next to him something. The man raised his beer and nodded his head.
    Web nodded and walked toward the house. He was still smiling, still casual.
    Mitch’s heart began to thud as it always did when he heard the intro bars of music before he went on stage.
    The glass door slid open.
    Web stepped inside the house, moving aside as a string of small, shrieking children pushed past him and ran into the backyard.
    “Look who’s here,” Gidget said brightly.
    Web nodded hello. “Having fun?” he asked Mitch.
    “Sure. You?”
    “You bet.” Web nodded politely and went on to the kitchen. He passed through the family room a minute or so later carrying two