Wild and Unruly

Chapter 9

"We've now begun our final descent."

Louis's knuckles tightened over the end of the seat rests, his right heel tapping as he stared out the window of the little commuter jet. He wasn't sure if the hollow ache in his stomach had more to do with the physics of air travel or the nervous tension that had been building inside him ever since he'd left Zayn behind in the bar. Either way, he clenched his jaw sternly and tried not to hurl with excitement.

I don't know why you're so worked up, Louis told himself, reaching over to pluck uselessly at the crease in his right trouser leg. It's like a one in a million chance you'll find anything relevant.

But he was fooling himself. Really, Louis. He knew the nausea-tinged heat that was flooding his chest and stomach in little bursts wasn't about what information he might or might not find in the County Recorder's office. It was about --

Harry, he gulped helplessly as he felt the soft bump of the landing gear meeting the runway. He drew a hand over his face and took a deep breath. Oh, fuck.

He fumbled for his phone and turned it on, staring at it for a few seconds and silently gnawing on his lip as he waited for any missed notifications to come through. There was a text from Zayn that said if orig deed not extant, try old gov survey maps. Nothing else. Louis quickly brought up Harry's contact and pressed the call button, awkwardly pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he groped underneath the seat in front of him for his briefcase.

Come on, Harry, he pleaded internally. Come on, come on...

"Hello, this is Harry Styles at the Lonely Rose Ranch. I'm probably out with the cows right now..."

Louis exhaled heavily and waited for the beep. He was irritated by Harry's apparent refusal to talk to him, and the slight queasiness in his stomach amplified the irritation until it was verging on fear. "Hi, Harry," he said, suddenly, taking another deep breath as he struggled to control his voice. "I'm in Sheridan. I'm at the airport. I think I have an idea about what to do. It's -- it's a long shot, but... Anyway, I tried to call you three times before my plane took off in Denver. Oh, I quit my job. Uh, also. So there's that. Call me. Please." He almost hung up, then. But at the last second, his hand jerked the phone back up to his ear and he added, shakily, "Pardner. We're still... we're still pardners, right?" Tears threatened to well up.

He said he wanted a partner. That's what he said he wanted.

Louis blinked rapidly as he breathed for a moment, and then ended the call. He'd been picturing a grand reunion throughout the flight, unable to keep himself from embellishing it, running it through his mind over and over again. "To hell with Walter Mohs!"he imagined himself shouting as he strode up the front path to the ranch house, maybe waving some important papers around, if luck was on his side. He pictured Harry standing in the open door, his sweet mouth slightly open in surprise and awe. He'd be in his dirty denim jeans, hair lightly tousled, face angelic in the waning light. They'd meet in a heated embrace on the porch...

Louis snorted at himself. Oh God, I'm ridiculous, he thought, rolling his eyes and scrubbing a hand through his hair as the plane taxied. As if I'm just going to march on into the house like, hello, I'm back! Love me! Harry was too annoyed with him, too beaten down by what had happened to participate in a scene like that. What they needed to have was a long talk. About commitment, about living arrangements, about the future. Regardless of what happened with Walter fucking Mohs.

Louis realized with a sudden, bubbling jolt of laughter that he'd also been imagining movie applause during the kiss on the porch. "Always so grandiose," he muttered. It wasn't going to be like that.