Better Than Friends (29 page)

“What do you mean? Mom is….”

“She’s a fucking drunk, Curt! C’mon! You knew that. I don’t even know if she gets that he’s gone. Really gone. And everyone else is just….”

“What?” I prodded.

“Fucking vultures. They want a piece of his pie. Nothing more.” His nostrils flared in a rare show of anger as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“What do you mean? He had plenty of friends and—”

“No. He had business acquaintances. Golf buddies and club members concerned with furthering their own interests. He always knew that’s what they were. He was a fucking tyrant to deal with on his best days, but on his worst?” Cary’s eyes clouded unhappily.

“Suffice it to say, dear old dad died on his own. I was there, but no one else. But trust me, they’ll all be sure to be at his service.”

“I’m sorry, Cary. I couldn’t—”

“Don’t apologize, Curt. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I don’t blame you for staying away. I honestly understand. I know he was a bastard. I know there was no one in your corner and I….” Cary’s voice hitched painfully. “I’m the one who’s sorry, little brother. I’m sorry.”

I swallowed hard and turned my head to watch the traffic whizzing by as we headed north into the city by the bay. I didn’t trust myself to speak as my brother’s grief let itself be known. I knew Cary loved me. I felt the same for him, but I’d always let my hatred of our father cloud my dealings with my brother. It wasn’t fair, but my eighteen-year-old self didn’t know how to separate the good from the evil. I’d selfishly held him at arm’s length for the past ten years, assuming he was more like our old man than he truly was.

I felt something inside me thaw. Perhaps the healing process was already underway.

Cary wouldn’t hear of me staying anywhere but with him. He had moved out of our family home located in the mega-affluent Sea Cliff neighborhood with its sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean after he finished grad school and had bought a hip little condo in the Marina District. We stayed up late that evening, drinking gin and talking about life. We navigated around painful subjects with a practiced ease we’d developed over the years, but resentment and animosity were noted only by their absence. We were two brothers becoming reacquainted for the first time after a long time apart.

T
HE
MEMORIAL
was held at a country club my father had written many checks to over the years. I was pretty sure one of the eighteen greens was named after him and maybe one of the grand conference rooms too. I shrugged, knowing it had given him great satisfaction in life to have people worship him for his money and success. Weakness, perceived or actual, was not a trait my father had any patience for—which was how I ended up on the East Coast. I chuckled to myself, acknowledging for the first time that my move to DC ten years ago was the best thing that ever happened to me. Away from my father’s judgmental eye, I had thrived. I had a family of close-knit friends who I loved and cherished. I had a fantastic job with a respected firm. I had more positive in my life than negative. That wouldn’t have been the case if I’d stayed here.

I felt something shift and settle inside me again. I took a deep breath and looked out over the mass of people in their finest who’d come to bid my father farewell. Who knew if I’d have this kind of turnout when my time came, but I did know that the people who showed would be people who loved me for who I was. I could live happily with that. I smiled, turning toward the expansive ocean view only to stop suddenly when I spotted a familiar figure off to the side. No way. It couldn’t be.

But it was. It was Jack.

My pulse sped as I pushed my way through the crowd to get to him. I stood at the far end of the lush green lawn, the throng of mourners behind me and Jack two feet in front of me.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered.

Jack gave me one of his devilish, lopsided grins, his blue eyes twinkling kindly. He looked positively magnificent in his dark jeans and black leather jacket. A complete standout among the well-heeled country-club crowd. His dark hair blew into his handsome face as the bitter bay wind kicked up suddenly and then settled again.

“I couldn’t let you do this alone.”

My mouth was open. I closed it quickly and bit my cheek hard as I tried to pull my thoughts together.

“Jack, I….”

“Hey. This is probably not the time or place, but… fuck it. Maybe it’s perfect.” He sighed deeply. His tone was low and serious. “When you walked out of my office the other day, I realized a couple things. I realized if I don’t take a risk on the future, I’ll never let the past go. All that shit I said back at Peter and Jay’s wedding about leaving the past behind would be just that: bullshit.”

Jack looked away from me and out toward the green rolling expanse of the golf course before turning back to me.

“Curt, I’m older than you, and I’ve seen shit and experienced crap I wished I hadn’t. I hope I’ve learned a few things along the way to make it all worthwhile. One thing I know for sure is I don’t want to be your friend. I mean….” He stopped and gave me one of his shrugs, asking me silently to forgive his clumsiness. “I do, but I want… the rest too. I want to watch baseball with you, and play stupid
Jeopardy
trivia games. I want to tease you and make you forget the shit you can’t control when it starts to make you crazy. I want to take you to dinner whenever you wanna go, and I wanna feel your thighs wrapped around me when you’re holding on, scared out of your mind on the back of my bike.” He licked his lip nervously and continued. “I want to make love to you, and sometimes I just want to fuck you.”

“I….”

“Shh, let me finish. This part is important. I want you to know I do trust you. I think maybe it could be the glue that makes everything else work. I know you’re not like anyone else. I know how you feel about me. I trust it and I feel the same way. I love you. I want to start my future right now… with you.”

I blinked in disbelief. Could this be real? Did someone like Jack really want…? I stopped my internal turmoil and my stupid doubts before they got away from me.

Yes, he could. He came three thousand miles to be with me as I literally and figuratively said good-bye to my past. It was time to let go… of old insecurities, old grievances, and old hurt. My future was bright… extraordinarily so, if Jack was at my side.

I launched myself into his arms and held on tightly before pulling slightly back to stare meaningfully into his brilliant eyes.

“Yes. We start now.”

He smiled, a wicked, wide grin that told me the future was full of possibility. I was damn lucky to spend mine with my best friend.

“Life is not a spectator sport. If you’re going to spend your whole life in the grandstand just watching what goes on, in my opinion you’re wasting your life.”

—Jackie Robinson

A
PRIL
21
was a perfect spring day. Cool but sunny, or at least that was the way it appeared through the sliver of sky I could see from bed. I laid my head over Jack’s heart, listening to its steady beat as he slept on. It was a Monday morning, which usually meant I’d be up, showered, and impatiently waiting on my coffee before heading to the office. Not this Monday. This day was special.

There was no way I could have guessed how different my life would be on that very date a year ago. This was an anniversary of sorts, but neither Jack nor I would call it that. It wasn’t our beginning, because we were already on our way. We’d been committed to each other for months now, and this weekend we’d made another type of commitment. We were officially living together. We’d spent the entire weekend moving my things into Jack’s place, and I was taking a rare day off to recuperate. And celebrate April 21.

“Mmm. Why are you up so early?” Jack stretched his long arms over his head and arched his back before slinging a large hand over the curve of my naked hip.

“I’m always up early on a Monday. I was making myself stay in bed to celebrate not having to go to the office. But we should probably get going. We have a baseball game to get to, and—”

“That’s not ’til this afternoon. We have plenty of time to do other things before then.” He smiled slowly, his eyes lit with mischief as he leaned forward and kissed the corner of my mouth. “How does it feel to wake up in my bed?”

“It’s my bed too! And it feels the same as every morning, since I’m always waking up here anyway,” I lied.

“Sorry, you’re right. What’s mine is yours, which means what’s yours”—he snaked his hand down between my thighs to palm my semihard cock—“is mine.”

I shifted my hips forward, letting him take whatever he wanted. I was his. I certainly wasn’t going to argue.

The amazing part was how natural and right this felt. I didn’t fool myself into thinking it would always be easy. Jack was still going to fuss about things being neat and clean, and I would most likely make him crazy in my compulsion to control things. Miraculously, we’d learned our differences were what balanced us as individuals and as a couple. I no longer worried about certain things I had no hope of controlling, like our age gap or my fear of motorcycles. I was learning to let go and just enjoy life. Enjoy the amazing man who I was beginning to realize probably benefited from my brand of crazy just as much as I did from his. When I left my shoes in the living room instead of storing them in the closet, he would raise an eyebrow, warning me to clean up after myself. When I stuck my tongue out at him and dared him to make me, he would either roll his eyes in a mocking “why me?” gesture or he’d chase me, hold me down, and tickle me until I cried “uncle.” By that time we were both breathless, turned-on, and ready for a sexier kind of physical contact.

I was learning not to quantify and question. I was learning to take what was offered and appreciate my amazing luck. I was learning to trust, because there really was nothing better than being in love with your best friend.

L
ANE
H
AYES
is a designer by trade, but is spending more time these days doing what she loves best. Writing! An avid reader from an early age, Lane has always been drawn to romance novels. She truly believes there is nothing more inspiring than a well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her first novel was a finalist in the 2013 Rainbow Awards. She loves travel, chocolate, and wine (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband, three teenage kids, and Rex, the coolest yellow lab ever.

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