Page 8 of Backward Motion

Connor shrugged and downed the rest of his beer. “I’m full of surprises.”

Sam snickered. It had taken two beers, but he was finally loosening up. When Connor had first spotted him sitting at the table next to Brian, he’d looked like a deer caught in headlights. Sam was also outrageously bad at trivia. He thought the capital of Turkey wasIstanbul, which had prompted the rest of the team to launch into a raucous rendition of “Istanbul (Not Constantinople).”

Connor was having trouble hiding how pleased he was to see Sam outside of work. Sam looked far more casual in a sweater and jeans, his hair ruffled and falling across his forehead instead of artfully styled. Despite the simple nature of the job, Connor had noticed Sam took particular care with his appearance. He arrived at the office in pressed shirts and tapered slacks that accentuated his slight frame.

“All right, pass your answer sheets to the front and take five before we get started on our final round: What’s that sound?” the MC drawled.

There was a chorus of groans from their table. They always did the worst on this one.

“I’m getting more beer before the bloodbath,” Evie announced.

As she jostled through the throng of people to the bar, Marcus turned to Sam. “So, Brian says you’re back from Austin. What’s it like? Heard it’s a fun city.”

“Pretty much what you’d expect. Everyone’s hustling—it can be a bit cutthroat.” Sam gave a constricted laugh. “But it’s nice, decent weather. There’s always something going on—festivals, premieres, that sort of thing.”

“Give me zero traffic and a rock-bottom mortgage any day,” Marcus said.

“I know, right?” Brian said. “I can see why you moved back. Sounds intense.”

As though hoping for the discussion to end, Sam glanced toward the front of the room, where the MC was preparing for the next round.

“Come on, there’s no comparing Oakdale to Austin,” Connor said, feeling the need to nudge the conversation away from Sam.

“Then why don’t you move there, big shot?” Brian countered. He was joking, but it rankled, unseating all of Connor’s familiar insecurities.

“I’ve got a business to run. What’s your excuse?”

Brian held up his left hand to reveal the gold band on his ring finger. “I’m tied down. Family man, househusband. There’s no more hope for me.”

“I’m sureThe Real Housewiveswould be open to featuring their first male star, gender equality and all,” Marcus offered.

“Too bad my wife isn’t rich enough to bankroll me,” Brian said as Evie returned and began refilling their glasses.

“I think it’s crazy you guys all grew up here,” Marcus mused while they waited for the final round to get underway. “Must feel like being stuck in a time machine.”

Connor took a sip of beer. Marcus and Evie had moved from Lincoln in search of small-town vibes. Small towns always seemed to appeal to those who hadn’t spent their entire lives in one.

“I don’t know. Despite the clichés, you don’t have to move away to change. I think we’re all pretty accepting of the fact that we’re not the same people we were growing up,” Brian said matter-of-factly. “Look how our resident troublemaker straightened out.”

“I’m sensing a theme this evening,” Connor retorted.

Across from him, Sam had gone quiet. Pushing back his beer, the man stood. “I have to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. We’re about to start!” Brian called as Sam disappeared down the corridor past the kitchen. “Sam’ll be great with film scores and SFX stuff. He’s a big movie buff. Or at least he was back in the day.”

The MC returned to the front of the bar, and Connor watched a ring of condensation form at the base of Sam’s glass. He turned to Brian. “Oakdale’s not as accepting as you make it out to be,” he said quietly. “Not for everyone.”

“Aaand we’re back!” the MC exclaimed. “Put on those listening ears for our final round of the night!”

Chapter Six

Beside Connor in the passenger seat of the van, Sam fiddled with the laces of his too-big steel-capped boots. Connor hid a smile when he saw Sam had rolled up the hems of the overalls he’d loaned him so they sat flush with the tops of his boots.

They were en route to Connor’s first job of the day. He’d figured Sam could shadow him for the week to get a feel for the technical side of the work. Sheryl had worked with his father for decades and had a wealth of knowledge of all things electrical. While Sam had proven a quick study—already mastering the booking tool and surprising Connor by integrating it with his accounting software—he still struggled with a basic understanding of the trade.

“Sorry, the last apprentice we had was a size twelve,” Connor said, gesturing at the giant boots he’d dug out of the workshop.

“Now I feel inadequate.” Sam gave him a curious look. “I didn’t know you trained apprentices.”