The Delicious Series: The First Volume

by Stella Starling

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” he’d said to Beck, repeating back his friend’s earlier words.

  It was one thing to trust Beck, but Nick hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of how people would look at him if the truth ever came to light. Still couldn’t.

  “Are you sure, Nick?” Beck had asked back then, his brow furrowing in concern. “Maybe you could—”

  “Dude. I’ve tried,” Nick had said, cutting him off. Feeling a little desperate. “I’m just not smart enough.”

  “Well, that can’t be true,” Beck had said loyally. “But okay. Whatever you need. You know I’ve always got your back.”

  “Same.”

  Beck had dropped the subject then—thankfully—and they’d talked about baseball for the rest of the afternoon. Nick wouldn’t mind doing that right now. Beck had just asked him if he remembered the day Beck had come out, and that little trip down memory lane had been as un-fun as the rest of the shit that had been swirling through Nick’s head all week.

  “Dad always acted like being gay meant there was something wrong with me,” Beck said now. “But you never let me buy into that crap.”

  “At least I’m smarter than your dad,” Nick said, a joke with some bite to it. Fucking Beckworth Senior. Some men shouldn’t be allowed to be fathers, in Nick’s opinion.

  “You’re smart, period,” Beck insisted. “That’s my point. Even though I promised to have your back about the reading issue, I’ve let you down. I’ve let you get away with buying into your own crap about this since we were kids, Nick, but enough already. You’ve seriously got to stop believing something that was never true in the first place. How much of your life has it affected?”

  “Not being able to read?” Nick asked with a humorless laugh. “You know the answer, Beckworth.”

  “No, dipshit. You’ve always managed to find ways around that, because you are smart. I’m not talking about not being able to read, I’m talking about the fact that you’re ashamed of it. How much has that held you back, bro? You ever bring yourself to tell anyone but me?”

  Beck knew the answer, but Nick went ahead and gave it to him anyway.

  “Nope.”

  No one.

  “And what has that cost you?” Beck asked, his hard-ass voice softening a bit. “You think Heather might manage to be less of a bitch if she knew you weren’t just blowing off all the texts and emails she sends you? Would you have lawyered up sooner, if you’d been willing to tell one that you’d need some extra help going through the paperwork? And what about Feather? You know your mom would never judge.”

  “She’d feel like shit if I told her now,” Nick said, kind of feeling that way himself.

  He knew Beck meant well. Hell, he even knew Beck was right. But just knowing something wasn’t a magic pill that would instantly dissolve feelings he’d been carrying around for his entire life.

  It had held him back, though. Nick hadn’t been able to picture someone like Jeremy wanting to stick with a guy who couldn’t even fucking read—who’d never be able to, because Beck was right about that, too. It was a disability. A missing piece, just like Greg’s arm. Nick’s brain just wasn’t wired that way—but now that he’d lost his chance with J, he had to wonder if things might have been different if he hadn’t let that stop him. If there might have been time to build something between the two of them if he hadn’t held back, something that maybe would have been enough to hold on to, even after he moved away.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, holding back a frustrated sigh. The sandwich bread in front of him was getting soggy from too much mayo, and even though he was now 99% sure he’d failed to feed himself earlier, his appetite was all but gone.

  “Your lunch break almost over, Dr. Beckworth, or are you gonna start showing me ink blots next?” Nick asked, tossing his first attempt at lunch in the trash and starting over. Hungry or not, it was probably smart to eat something.

  “Fine,” Beck said. “I’ll drop it for now. But—”

  Nick’s lip twitched. The guy was relentless.

  “‘But’ doesn’t count as dropping it, dude,” he interrupted.

  Beck laughed. “Just think about what I said, okay? And let me know when you’re coming back. Seriously, Nick, it’s great that you’re going to move home.”

  Nick couldn’t quite bring himself to agree, so he settled for making a non-committal sound. And, since Beck was stuck on his new psychoanalysis kick, of course he didn’t let that pass without comment.

  “What, you don’t want to come back to Seattle now?” he teased. “What happened, did you go and fall in love with the city of Tulsa while I wasn’t paying attention?”

  “Nope,” Nick said. Then, knowing perfectly well that he was opening himself up for round two of Beck-all-up-in-his-business, but still apparently incapable of keeping his mouth closed, he added, “Not the city.”

  “Wait, what?” Beck asked, the emphasis Nick had placed on the last word coming through loud and clear. “You met someone there?”

  Sandwich, the Sequel, was finally ready, and Nick took a bite to buy some time, wondering why he felt nervous. Beck wasn’t going to care that Nick had gone and proven his gaydar wrong. Hell, even if Beck had, Nick wouldn’t have given a shit. Anyone who had a problem with how he felt about J could fuck off, as far as he was concerned.

  J was it. End of story.

  Or at least, Nick wanted him to be.

  Didn’t want to let it go, even though he’d convinced himself he had to.

  And okay, maybe that was why he felt nervous. And also why he’d opened his big-ass mouth about it in the first place. Jeremy mattered, and Beck was the one Nick told the things-that-mattered to. The two of them had always been able to figure things out together, make them work, but this time Nick just didn’t see how that was gonna happen.

  “Swallow your damn turkey sandwich and answer the question already, bro,” Beck said impatiently.

  Nick choked on a laugh, doing as he’d been told. Shit. The guy really did know him too well.

  Annoying.

  And okay, comforting, too.

  “Jeremy,” Nick said.

  It took Beck a minute. “Oh, right. The fake boyfriend. Did you take my advice and have him introduce you to someone?”

  “No. I… it’s him, Beck.”

  “What’s him?”

  “Roger,” Nick said, shutting Beck right up. Did he really have to spell it out?

  Silence.

  Apparently, that would be a yes. He did.

  “It’s not Tulsa, it’s him. I don’t want to leave Jeremy.”

  Nick tried to place the creaking sound that came through the phone, and finally figured out that it must be that shitty office chair Beck refused to replace. So… what? The guy’s knees had given out in shock and he’d collapsed at his desk? Nick stifled a laugh. Beckworth put far too much stock in that obviously-faulty gaydar of his. Either that, or the idea that Nick might have actually fallen for someone had thrown him for a loop.

  “Wow,” Beck finally said. “I didn’t see that one coming. So… okay. What’s the plan?”

  “I don’t know,” Nick said, disappointment crashing over him. A part of him had half-expected Beck to pull something out of his hat. “Not really much I can do about it.”

  Beck laughed.

  “What?” Nick asked defensively.

  “You would never let me get away with saying that. Over, under, around, or through, right?”

  “J owns a business here. His whole life is in Tulsa. And we’ve never even… I don’t know if he’d want to…” Nick huffed out a frustrated breath without bothering to finish the sentence, all the reasons it wouldn’t work swirling through his mind.

  “Oh. Okay,” Beck said, his agreeable tone instantly making Nick suspicious. “Sorry, bro. I misunderstood. For a minute, I thought we were talking about something that mattered to you. You just feeling gay-curious? Because I’d be happy to hook you up with someone once you’re back—” />
  “Jesus, Beck. No. It’s him. I want Jeremy.”

  Beck stayed quiet while Nick poked at the uneaten half of his sandwich. Beckworth was trying not to laugh, he just knew it.

  “Fuck,” Nick finally said, cracking a smile.

  “Do I need to quote the Bambino?”

  “No,” Nick said, knowing Beck would do it anyway. As many times as Nick had egged Beck on with wisdom from the greats, Beckworth was never gonna pass up the opportunity to throw some of it back at him.

  “It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up,” Beck recited.

  “Got it, thanks.”

  “If it’s important to you, you’ll find a way. If not—”

  “—you’ll find an excuse,” Nick finished, cutting him off. Giving in and laughing at himself. “Yeah, dude. Thanks. I get it.”

  “Don’t feel bad, bro. We all have our blind spots.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that I can’t afford to be flying back here all the time, and I’m not gonna live halfway across the country from Ava.”

  “And you’re going to let that stop you?”

  The tightness eased around Nick’s chest, and he drew in what felt like the first real breath he’d taken all week.

  “Nope,” he said, grinning.

  “Good, because my lunch break was supposed to be over ten minutes ago. Shit, Nick, I’ve got a schedule to keep here.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I’m not.”

  More like grateful.

  And Jesus fuck, also hungry.

  “Thanks, Roger,” he added, cramming an oversized bite of turkey sandwich into his mouth. The words may have been muffled, but he was pretty sure the message would still come through loud and clear.

  “I love you, too, bro, but don’t push it,” Beck said, proving him right.

  12

  Nick

  Jeremy’s car was in its usual spot when Nick parked in front of Sir Reads-a-lot. A good sign, but seeing it made Nick realize that he hadn’t even considered whether J would be home before heading over.

  Or whether Jeremy would want to see him.

  He probably should have called first, but it hadn’t occurred to him. Beck’s little pep talk had jolted him out of the limbo of depression he’d been stuck in, and once he’d pulled his head out of his ass, the need to see J had surged through him like a shot of adrenaline. He still had no idea how a long-distance relationship between them could possibly work, or where they would go from here if Jeremy wanted to try, but he’d had zero patience for trying to figure those things out before taking action.

  A week without J was too long.

  Not that Nick had a clue about what he was going to say once he saw him. He’d hoped that the right thing would pop into his head on the drive over, but that had failed to happen. He wasn’t used to feeling nervous about seeing Jeremy, but after he’d rushed right over only to sit in the truck for a full two minutes doing nothing, he realized that, this time, he did.

  He shouldn’t have let so much time go by, but he couldn’t undo that now. And… Jeremy hadn’t called him, either. What did that mean? Nick wiped his palms on the sides of his jeans, clicking the lock button on his key fob as he made himself get out of the truck and get on with it. He’d already fucked up, so hopefully things couldn’t get worse.

  Hopefully, they’d get a lot better.

  Sir Reads-a-lot was supposed to be closed on Mondays, but the lights were on, so Nick tried the door there before heading up the stairs to J’s apartment. Unlocked. Was Jeremy inside doing inventory?

  Nope.

  It was Kelley.

  And not inventory, from the looks of it. She had a bunch of paperwork spread out on the counter in front of her, and when he walked in, she looked up, clearly startled. As soon as she saw who it was, though, her face broke into an easy smile.

  “Hey, Nick,” she said. “Glad it’s you. I must have forgotten to lock the door.”

  She swiped a ring of keys off the counter, heading toward him with the obvious intent of correcting that.

  “We missed Ava on Saturday,” she said. “You’ll have to read her chapter eight before the weekend, so she’s all caught up.”

  He swallowed, nodding. He knew Ava loved the book Kelley had been reading during their weekly story-time visits. It was something about a magical world, and every week, Ava gushed about the latest adventures of the four children in it, begging him to get a copy and read ahead so she could find out what happened next. He’d managed to hold her off by telling her she didn’t want to get ahead of the story if she was going to keep coming to story time, but obviously things had changed now. He should buy a copy so Heather or Beck could finish reading the book to her after they moved back to Seattle.

  “I’ll get out of your hair,” he said to Kelley. “Is Jeremy around?”

  “He’s supposed to be at Sherri’s this afternoon, I think,” she said.

  The name was vaguely familiar, but Nick couldn’t place it.

  “His car’s still out front,” Nick said, fishing.

  “Oh, is it? Well, they probably just walked over.”

  Nick froze. “’They’?” he repeated back. Kelly had said it casually, as if it didn’t mean he was already too late, and he swallowed, telling himself not to jump to conclusions. “Jeremy has company?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she confirmed, her eyes already drifting back toward the spreadsheets she’d left on the counter. “He brought that yummy Cassius home last night—God, why are the hottest ones always gay?—but come to think of it, I haven’t seen either one of them come downstairs yet. Maybe you can still catch him?”

  Nick nodded jerkily as he walked out, feeling cold. It had only been a week. Even though he’d intentionally tried to set Jeremy free to find someone else, he hadn’t considered that it might have already happened. Although just because Jeremy had someone over, it didn’t necessarily mean he’d already moved on.

  Even if Kelley had described the guy as “yummy.”

  And implied that he’d spent the night.

  Fucking FUCK.

  Who was Nick kidding? Instead of heading up to Jeremy’s apartment, he turned toward his truck, feeling sick.

  I thought we were talking about something that mattered to you, Beck’s voice said in his head, stopping him.

  He huffed out a breath, hesitating. Beck was right. And even if Jeremy had moved on, Nick couldn’t leave without hearing it from him directly. J did matter, and Nick wasn’t going to walk away again before he found out for sure. He’d just spent a week assuming he’d lost his chance, but the truth was, he hadn’t actually taken that chance in the first place. He’d spent all his time assuming it wouldn’t work, instead of trying to figure out how it could.

  And he hadn’t even told Jeremy that he wanted it to.

  Yet.

  That, at least, was one mistake he could correct. Nick headed upstairs and knocked before he could second guess himself, prepared to wait until J got home if there was no answer.

  But there was.

  Nick’s breath whooshed out of him, and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

  The man who’d answered Jeremy’s door was definitely not Jeremy. Cassius, Kelley had called him. He was bare-chested, wearing a pair of half-zipped jeans and very obviously nothing else. His military-short hair was wet, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. A shower that was still running, from the sound of it, which gave Nick a pretty clear idea of why Jeremy hadn’t answered his own door. Bile rose in his throat as he searched for some sign that the situation wasn’t exactly what it looked like, but he couldn’t find anything to reassure him.

  “‘Sup?” Cassius-the-dickhead greeted Nick, looking him up and down with an appreciative gleam in his eye that was fucking disrespectful to Jeremy, given the obviously-intimate time the guy had just spent with him.

  Nick’s hands clenched involuntarily into fists, tightly enough that the blunt tips of his nails cut
into his palms. He wanted to punch the cocky asshole in front of him for not realizing how fucking lucky he was to have what Nick wanted, and he shoved them into his pockets to stop himself from doing it.

  Cassius’s eyes tracked the movement, and he pressed his lips together tightly, as if he were holding back laughter.

  “You a friend of Jeremy’s?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “Yup,” Nick said, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

  The word wasn’t enough, didn’t cover what Jeremy was to him, but at the end of the day, that’s as far as they’d ever taken it. Friends. And even if he’d had a different outcome in mind when he’d headed over—even if it was killing him to think about Jeremy having jumped into bed with someone so quickly after Nick had had him in his arms—he couldn’t bring himself to deny the label.

  Or walk away, now that he was here, regardless of the evidence in front of him.

  “I think I like Jeremy’s taste in friends,” Cassius said, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking Nick out.

  Nick ground his teeth together. Fucking asshole. If he could stand there and look at Nick like that after having just been with Jeremy, he wasn’t worthy of the time J had already given him.

  God, what had J been thinking? Had Jeremy been sucked in just because the guy was good looking? Nick knew J had a thing for muscle, and this guy was definitely ripped—arms covered in intricate tattoos that highlighted the definition in his biceps and shoulders and curved around the upper portion of his chest, as if he were trying to draw attention to that fact—but Nick knew Jeremy.

  J would want more than that.

  He definitely deserved more.

  Jeremy needed someone who would push him out of his comfort zone, someone who could make him laugh, someone who would look out for him. Who understood him. Appreciated him. Someone who would love him, for God’s sake, not someone like this, who would start looking for a new place to plant his dick before he’d even bothered zipping up his pants.