Authors: Vanessa North
Tags: #M/M Romance, Love’s Landscapes, gay romance, culinary/bartenders, reunited, second chance, long distance, businessmen, masturbation, switch/versatile
It takes hours. I close the pub.
Luckily, some of the patrons had pulled out their phones and recorded video of the whole thing, so the police could see exactly what happened. They said they still had to take both guys in, but Jonah probably wouldn’t be charged.
“We’ll need you to file a report of the damages.” The officer who took my statement was the last to leave.
I nodded. “Insurance company will need that anyway.”
“Okay, Mr. Hana. We’ll call you if we need to speak to you again.” She looked over my shoulder at Jenny. “Young lady, he’s going to be locked up tonight, but I have no guarantee about tomorrow. You call us immediately if you see him. You got a safe place to stay?”
Jenny nodded, exhaustion plain on her face.
The officer smiled gently. “You do right by those kids, Jenny. Everyone knows it. Take care of yourself too, okay?”
Jenny’s face crumples then, and the officer takes her leave. I pull Jenny into my arms and hold her through the sobs racking her body.
“My hero.” She finally straightens up and smiles weakly at me. Her eyes are all red, and she’s still shaking a bit.
“Me? Nah. How about Jonah?” I raise an eyebrow at her and she blushes.
“He’s sweet, but he drinks a lot and he got in a bar fight.” She shrugs. “I don’t need that in my life. Nice guy though.”
“I can clean up by myself tonight, hon. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
“Thanks, Nick.” She hugs me again. “I think I will.”
I walk her out to her car, and then return to the bar and start cleaning up broken glass and putting up the bar stools.
Hours later, as I crawl into bed, I remember the text I’d sent Kevin. I pull out my phone and check my messages.
Sorry, phone was off in flight. Don’t want to text about it. Call me?
Then, when I didn’t answer that one, he sent another about a half hour later.
Nah, nevermind. You were right. I shouldn’t make more of it than it was. Bye, Nick.
My veins turn to ice. That sounds awfully final. I had told him
I
shouldn’t make more of it than it was. I never said anything about him making anything of it at all, did I? What the fuck had I said? But the morning feels like it was eons ago, and my brain is fuzzy with exhaustion.
Before sleep can overtake me, I send off one more text.
Call me.
****
He doesn’t call.
Not that night. Not the next day. Not that week.
My calls go unanswered.
Two weeks after we were snowed in together, another snowstorm hits. I snap a few photos of the snow and send them to him with a text.
Don’t think I’ll ever see the white stuff again without thinking of you.
I don’t expect an answer, but I’m still disappointed when I don’t get one.
On Valentine’s Day, the bar is full of singles and the restaurant is full of couples. Jonah is at his customary barstool flirting with Jenny, and I can’t help but feel a little wistful as I watch couples walk by on the street outside. Jenny starts laughing loudly, and she gestures me over to see what’s so funny.
One of her regulars had given her a box of candy hearts covered with profanity instead of love words. Some of them are funny, some crude, but I snag a yellow one that says simply “I’m a dick.” I take a photo of it and send it to Kevin. I pop it into my mouth, letting the sugar dissolve on my tongue, leaving its chalky flavor behind.
I’ve taken to texting him at random times. It comforts me, but he never answers, not even to tell me to stop. Maybe it comforts him, too. Or maybe he’s blocked my number and hasn’t seen any of them. Yeah, that’s probably more likely.
A few minutes after I send the candy heart photo, he texts me three words.
No you’re not.
It’s a small thing. Just three words. But it feels huge. He hasn’t blocked my number, and he doesn’t think I’m a dick.
A few weeks later, I see a familiar profile across Pack Square, near the noodle shop where we ate on our aborted date. I shout his name and hurry across the street, but he’s gone when I get there, and he doesn’t appear to be in any of the restaurants or retail shops nearby. Maybe he was a figment of my imagination. Maybe I thought I saw him, just because I wanted to see him.
The last Thursday in March, Jenny is awarded sole custody of Samantha and Blake. Even though she’s taken the day off, Jenny brings Miriam and the kids by the restaurant for supper and takes a moment to come downstairs to celebrate with a hug and whispered “thank you” in my ear. When she pulls back from the hug, her eyes widen, and she covers her mouth.
“What? You see a ghost?” I prod her gently.
“He’s here. Your guy.” She nods her chin, pointing with it over my shoulder.
I turn around and there he is.
Kevin.
He’s standing inside the doorway to the Drop, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, not his typical weekday business attire, and he’s watching me. For a moment, he looks like a runaway puppy who just discovered he’d lost his owner. Then he smiles and all is right in my world.
“Kevin.” I cross the room to him, not sure whether to hug him, shake his hand, throw myself at him? In the end, I stand there, awkward as all get out, and say, “You’re in Asheville.”
He nods, then looks away. “You got a minute to talk?”
“I can’t. Jenny’s got the night off, and Corey’s not coming in until after his evening classes. But later? Can you stay?”
“I’ve got dinner plans, actually.” He blushes, not meeting my gaze. “But I can come back, after.”
“It’s really good to see you,” I blurt as he turns to leave. He looks up then, meeting my gaze at last, and he grins.
“You too, Nick.”
And then he’s gone.
****
Chapter Eight
When Kevin returns, it’s after midnight and he knocks on the door to be let in. Corey is cleaning up behind the bar, so I gesture for Kevin to follow me to the office.
Once there, I’m not sure where to sit. Behind my desk? Kevin looks around and settles into one of the chairs, and I sit on my desk, facing him.
“So—” we both say at the same time. After some awkward laughing and throat clearing, I gesture for him to go ahead. He shakes his head, and I start.
“Why are you here? Something with work?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” He shrugs. “But that’s not what I need to talk to you about. Do you like it here? Asheville? Are you happy?”
“Mostly. I mean, I’m
lonely,
Kev. I don’t have family, just my employees and my friends from the soccer team. It’s not Vermont, but it kind of reminds me of Vermont, without all the memories with Mom.”
“Is it home? I mean, would it hurt to move somewhere else?” He’s staring at me intently, as if my answer to this is really important.
“Yeah, it’s home.” I nod, not sure whether I’m convincing him or myself. “Why?”
“Because I need to make a decision. I need to decide whether to take the General Manager position at the company we acquired. It would mean moving to Asheville. It would mean leaving New York. It would mean leaving my father’s direct employ. It would mean—”
“Move here? To Asheville?” I try to imagine it. If he lived here, we could… what? Date? Be friends? Soccer buddies again?
“Yeah. So I have a pretty good reason to be here— work. But it’s not the only reason. I have a history of making a mess of what I want. And of making more of things than what they are.”
My heart thuds in my chest, a hot lump of emotion taking on a visceral, physical sensation inside me.
“Kevin… what exactly are you saying?”
He stands up and paces over to the door, then back toward me. He walks around the office a few times, and then sits down again.
“I love you, Nick. Since forever. I kept trying to say it without saying it, and I wrecked it. I loved you back in school. Remember I told you I had been in love once, and it was an unrequited thing? It was you. You were the guy, you were always
my
guy.”
I’m stunned. “You never… all those times…”
He rubs a hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes. “I know you think I’m a total slut. The only reason my hookups ended up always being one-night stands was because I didn’t want them, I wanted you. And by never showing that I could handle commitment, I made you think I wasn’t cut out for it. I fucked it up.”
“Kevin…” He
loves
me?
“When we started talking again, this winter, it was everything to me. It was the second chance I always wanted, and I pushed you for more than you wanted to give me. I’m an ass. I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize. Because if I take this job, I’d like to have a friend here in town, and I promise it all stops now. I’m not pushing anymore.”
“You didn’t push me,” I whisper.
“What?”
I speak up. “You didn’t push me. I wanted you. I’ve been in love with you for years. Hell, Kevin, the only reason I held out as long as I did was because I thought it was one-sided. I thought if I told you how I felt…”
Nut up or die alone.
Jenny’s words seem to echo in the office, months after she said them.
“I thought you’d reject me. I was scared to make a big gesture. You didn’t ruin it, I did.”
“How could you think I would reject
you?
Are you crazy?” He stands up and moves between my knees. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer. The look of tenderness on his face takes my breath away. He strokes a finger down the side of my face, tilts my chin and looks me straight in the eye. “I love you, Nick. I want you. As my friend. As my lover. My boyfriend. Not to scare you, but maybe husband someday. It’s not legal here, but it is back home. I want as much of you as you can give me.”
My mind is reeling. Did he just say
husband?
“I want that.” I say the words before he can take his back. “I want that. We’ve wasted a fuckton of time. I want all that, with you, and I want it right fucking now.”
His kiss is demanding, claiming. A reunion and a victory celebration both at once. I run my hands up his back and into his hair. I pull him so close, he tumbles forward until I’m flat on my back on my desk, my legs around his waist as he grinds into me.
It’s out-of-control hot when he slips his hand up under my shirt, tweaking at my nipples, first one, then the other. I writhe underneath him, trying to get our cocks lined up just right. Crazy, doing this here, when any one of my employees could walk in.
“Does that door have a lock?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yeah.”
His weight disappears off me for a moment, then he’s back. He yanks me to my feet and reaches for the button of my jeans. He tugs them down, running his hands over my thighs and ass.
“I want you right here, bent over your desk.”
“I don’t have condoms.” I manage to croak out.
“I have never gone bare with anyone. Ever. And I get tested every year. I got tested three weeks ago, negative. And I haven’t been with anyone but you since November. It’s totally your choice, Nick, but I’m cool with it.”
“Do it. I want this. But use some of that.” I nod at a big jug of olive oil on the shelf behind him.
He smiles and reaches for the jug, cracking its seal. “Do I want to know why this is in your office?”
“It was a sample. New supplier. It came with the mail, and I haven’t brought it up to the kitchen yet.”
“Hmmm. Fortuitous.” He turns me around, pushing me forward until my chest hits the desk. I grab the sides and hold on. There’s something particularly vulnerable in bending over for someone. Not only letting him have my ass, but offering it to him, trusting him with my body, and with my anticipation, my expectation.
Trusting him like this with words of love between us is a heady thing.
His fingers slide slick over my ass, warm in contrast to the cold wood against my face. His cockhead slips inside me, hard and wet with the oil. I groan at the first tight burst of pain, but then I’m in it with him, pushing back, bearing down, and drawing him inside.
“Fuck.” He whispers. “God, being inside you bare is like…” He shudders, not finishing the sentence. “Can I move?”
I nod, pretty sure I’m beyond speech. He starts slowly, just easing in and out of me, letting us both feel the subtle differences. Sex without condoms. A commitment of sorts, between us. A promise. I thrust my hips a little faster, urging him to fuck me harder, faster. He doesn’t disappoint. He puts one hand on my shoulder, one on my hips, and he drives into me with every bit of passion and love he’d held back over the years.
“I’m going to come,” he says. “Oh fuck, Nick, I’m—” He breaks off in a wordless sound as he starts to shudder and shoot inside my body. I’ve got my hand on my cock, I’m jerking it as he gets off, but I’m not there yet. As he pulls out of me, his cock slides easily, slick from his come in my body. Then he turns me over and takes my dick in his mouth.
His come-covered cock is sticky against my leg, but I don’t care. His come is inside my body, and the thought is more of a turn on than I would have imagined. He probes my ass with a finger while he sucks me, and we both groan when it slides in easily. He strokes deep, feeling for my gland, and when he bumps it, I shudder. It feels so fucking
good.
The visuals in my head, of his come and his finger in my ass, and that look of adoration on his face while he sucks me— it’s too much. He reaches up and claps a hand over my mouth as I come, shooting my spunk inside his mouth. He swallows all of me, and I shudder again. His hands and mouth ease away from me, and he straightens our clothes, smoothing mine with gentle hands.
“You’re inside me.” I draw him into a kiss.
“And you’re inside me.” He pulls back to say before he opens up to give me a taste. The urgency and demand is gone from our kiss, replaced by something sweet and gentle. Something I’d call love, something I’d never expected from him, but had always craved.
“I gotta go help Corey close.” I tuck my head against his shoulder. “Will you stay? Come home with me tonight?”
“Anything you want, babe.” His voice rumbles against my ear. “Anything.”
****
Epilogue