by A J Lange
Zane thought his heart might be well and truly shattered, but the jagged, broken pieces might also find their way back together. He nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”
Zane followed Gray’s small car, the unfamiliar vehicle an unpleasant reminder of why it was different, why they were different. They backtracked out of the park for nearly an hour, to Cuba, a tiny village that clearly subsisted on the tourism trade, nothing else in the small town to encourage growth. There were few restaurants to choose from, and Gray pulled into El Bruno’s Mexican Restaurant and Cantina. They didn’t speak as they waited to be seated.
Zane ordered a beer, and a tamale platter.
He wasn’t even hungry.
Gray ordered tacos and rice. And tequila, which earned him a raised brow from Zane. Gray shrugged. “I need a little liquid courage right now.”
It was the needed tension break and Zane relaxed, feeling his lungs expand; he hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath in fits and starts.
When their food arrived, Zane told an amended version of the story of the vase. Gray frowned at Zane’s hesitant conclusion, and rubbed his temple.
“Do you still have headaches?” Zane wished he could massage his fingers against the dark scalp, ease the tension he could see there, sorry that he was probably the cause of it tonight.
Gray nodded wearily. “The doctors say they may be with me for a while. They’re worse when I’m struggling to remember,” he trailed off, then smiled apologetically. “That wasn’t an accusation, by the way.”
Zane’s breath caught at his tone. Was he flirting? Mouth dry, he inched closer, leaning ever so slightly into Gray’s personal space across the small booth. “Do you remember anything from before the accident?” He asked. He could smell Gray's shampoo when he ducked his head close to Zane’s mouth to hear him over the restaurant noise.
Gray shook his head. “Not much, flashes mainly." He was frowning at Zane again, puzzled by something. “I remember a man.”
Zane’s heart lurched and he thought, desperately, Goddammit, I’m going to puke.
Gray continued. “Tall, brown hair, too long and hanging across his eyes...” he paused, eyes distant.
Zane snorted. Tanner. Goddamn his horrible luck anyway. His boyfriend gets a head injury and loses all memory of him but retains Tanner, of all people. He schooled his face when he realized Gray was watching him curiously. “Uh, that describes someone I know, actually,” he said gruffly.
Gray’s eyes flicked to his mouth when Zane took another long drink from his bottle and Zane relished the pull of attraction that hummed between them.
He wondered if Gray felt it too.
◆◆◆
They left the restaurant, standing hesitant and unsure between their cars in the parking lot.
“Where are you staying?” Gray asked when the conversation stalled. Zane couldn’t see his eyes in the deepening night.
“Uh, nowhere. Possibly my backset," he joked, patting the hood. “I sort of didn’t plan this trip.”
“Do you want to stay with me?”
It caught Zane off guard. He suspected the proper thing would be to say no; he still didn’t know where Collin was, and Gray was...fragile. Zane could see that now. He was Gray, but he wasn’t. He was a muted, previous version of the Gray Zane loved and it was unsettling. At the same time, Zane didn’t think he was physically capable of walking away. Not again.
“Sure, thanks Gray.” He had no idea how his voice could possibly be so calm, so steady. He went to walk around the car, back to the driver’s side, but Gray stopped him at the edge of the bumper, hand on his arm. Zane froze, startled green eyes locked on blue. He felt Gray’s fingers grip him tighter and then he pressed his lips hesitantly to Zane’s.
Zane’s lashes fluttered closed and he stood as still as possible. The kiss was brief, butterfly wings brushing over his lips, and when he opened his eyes Gray was studying him intently.
Gray touched his lower lip with a fingertip. “I remember this.”
Zane exhaled slowly. “Me too,” he whispered.
Gray stepped back, breaking the spell, and Zane continued around the car, heart hammering through his chest, blood pumping furiously fast, making him dizzy.
◆◆◆
Gray was staying at a roadside motel called the Frontier Inn; Zane supposed in travel guides it would be described as quaint, the neon sign out front that beckoned weary travelers a throwback to the heyday of midcentury America.
They sat on the double beds and watched the local nightly news broadcast. Gray had a cooler of beer, incongruously, since Zane knew it wasn’t his beverage of choice.
Zane saw no further evidence of a second guest staying in the room.
He was also too cowardly to ask.
Gray yawned loudly, and Zane chuckled, then frowned a second later when Gray dropped his head into his hands.
“You okay?”
“Mmm,” Gray moaned. “Head hurts.”
Zane moved to sit carefully on Gray’s bed. “Do you have anything to take?”
Gray gave him a long look, but nodded. “I really shouldn’t though, not after the tequila.”
“Or the beer,” Zane murmured, reaching cautiously for Gray’s head, moving slow to allow him time for retreat at the first sign from Gray that he should stop. Gray shivered when Zane’s fingers rifled gently through his hair, then found the muscles knotted up at the base of his neck. Gray met his eyes as Zane probed the soreness, and Zane found he had to look away first, his cheeks warm.
His fingers stilled and he withdrew them to his lap. At Gray’s tired sigh, he moved to his feet. “Let’s get you in bed.”
Gray stood wearily and watched as Zane turned down the sheets. While Gray got ready for bed, Zane turned away, oddly self-conscious at the rustle of garments when they hit the floor. He turned off the television, and went to latch the motel door. He turned back to find Gray watching him, tired eyes fighting sleep.
“Zane,” he whispered, and Zane wondered if he was imagining the longing behind the confusion.
“Just sleep, Gray,” Zane said softly, and sat beside him again. He waited until Gray’s breathing evened out before he stood, but Gray immediately awoke, his hand reaching for Zane.
“Will you stay?” Gray’s voice was rusty from sleep, his palm too warm, too welcome, on Zane’s thigh.
Zane, helpless to refuse this man who had the ability to wring his heart from his chest with one look, nodded. He nudged Gray to scoot over and kicked off his boots. Gray moved to the center of the bed and watched under hooded, sleepy eyes as Zane stripped the t-shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans.
Zane flushed when Gray’s eyes followed his fingers as they worked the buttons on his fly. He kicked the jeans aside, finally, and slid under the cool sheets, the mattress dipping with his weight. Gray rolled against him, and wrapped an arm around his waist. Zane felt hot breath along his collarbone as Gray mouthed a kiss there. He wondered if Gray could feel him trembling.
“Sleep, Gray,” he said gruffly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Gray tightened his grip on his waist but relaxed against him.
They slept.
Chapter 20
Zane stirred, waking from the most restful night he had had in months. He groaned a little, unwilling to give it up, burrowing deeper into the soft bedding, nestling closer to a warm back.
His eyes blinked open.
Oh.
Gray dragged the blanket over his head. “Stop moving.”
It came out muffled, sounding more like Stoffmnvnth.
Zane’s mouth lifted in a sleepy grin. Still not a morning person, then. He resisted, just barely, the desire to duck under the sheet and press his lips against the smooth skin of Gray’s back, the instinct to possess fierce. As if he read his mind, Gray leaned back suddenly, head popping into view and crashing against Zane’s chin.
“Ow,” Zane complained. His hands apparently had a mind of their own, and had alrea
dy decided to grip at Gray’s hip, his waist. He had never realized before that someone’s skin could be familiar, that it could feel so right under his fingertips. Lord. He was, this was... overwhelming. It was going zero to sixty in four seconds on a straight stretch, not a cloud in the sky or another car on the horizon, Zeppelin blaring from the speakers.
“Sorry,” Gray muttered under a yawn.
Zane inhaled deep, surrounded by a smell so particularly Gray, so tantalizingly close, that he had to close his eyes against it. God he had missed this.
Zane’s chest hurt from missing this; hell, his everything hurt from missing this. He concentrated on evening out his breathing. In. Out. Zane mused that he had become quite well acquainted with his lung habits over the past year, his own personal quirky side effect of being madly, hopelessly in love. Or devastatingly heartbroken.
Gray moved suddenly, and Zane was jolted from his reverie, but he was trapped, nowhere to go without falling off the narrow motel bed. Gray executed a neat roll and plastered himself against him, chest to chest, one arm slung around Zane’s waist. He sighed contentedly. OctoGray, Zane thought fondly.
“I’m hungry,” he mumbled, mouth mashed against Zane’s skin.
Zane didn’t know what to do with his hands. He was enjoying this, hell his dick was more than enjoying this, it was downright exuberant, but Zane’s brain couldn’t flip that fast. Nor, if he was honest with himself, could his heart. And fuck, he didn’t want to be honest with himself, but last he knew, Gray was ‘with’ Collin, whether the blonde Englishman was here or not, and Zane was... Well, Zane was a predicament from Gray’s past who had run away from his life and somehow still managed to spend the night.
Gray caught on to Zane’s problem (both the one below his waist, and the one above), the longer he lay wrapped around him. He rolled to his back, and stared up at the cracked, water-stained ceiling. Zane moved his head on the pillow so he could catalog the handsome profile lying next to him. There had been a period in Zane’s life when most of his mornings had been spent in this exact pastime, he remembered sadly.
“You want to go get something to eat?” Zane asked, wondering if it would be breaking any rules if he reached out and felt the stubble (bordering on beard now, really) on Gray’s jaw. What exactly were the rules after someone had just wrapped around you like a cat?
Gray turned his head to the side and looked at him seriously. Fuck, Zane thought. The blue of his eyes was inhumanly deep. Fuck fuck fuck.
“What are your plans after that?”
And that was his Gray, really. Cutting to the heart of the matter, no bullshit required.
“Well, I can’t hang around Chaco Canyon much longer. Once you’ve seen it, you’ve kinda seen it.” Zane stalled, something he was really good at. He had no idea what he was going to do in the next five minutes, much less the rest of the week. He only knew he didn’t want to run into Collin; he might be a little afraid of what he would do if he did. One day in proximity, and Zane was sucked firmly back into a state that required Gray to breathe, to pump blood through his veins. Zane wasn’t sure he had the energy to go back to the day before that.
Gray sat up and stretched, arms high overhead, and Zane’s hands itched to touch him. Even a shade too thin, too pale, shaggy and tired, he was pure sex; at least, he was for Zane. Gray scooted off the bed and dragged on his jeans, then retrieved a collapsible duffle from under the bed. He started shoving his belongings into it.
Zane sat up on an elbow, surprised. “What are you doing?”
Gray glanced at him, matter of fact. “I’m going with you.”
A rush of affection poured over Zane, liquid honeyed relief. There were a million questions flooding his mind but the one he asked was the simplest.
“Why?”
Gray merely smiled, zipping the duffle bag shut. He grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. Zane grinned when he realized it was his, but he didn’t point out the error. He had clothes in the car, and holy Jesus he had nearly forgotten how good Gray looked wearing his clothes. How good it felt to see Gray in them. He got out of bed and started to dress too.
“Are you sure?” Zane wasn’t confident of much these days, but one thing he knew for certain was that he wouldn’t survive Gray walking away. He had to be absolutely positive.
Gray tossed the packed duffle to the door and grabbed a small toiletry bag from the dresser. His eyes were hot as they traced Zane’s features, and Zane flushed. “Why? Because, I know you. I know this.” He gestured between them. “Zane, I may not remember all the history behind us, but since I woke up, you’re the first thing that’s made perfect sense to me.” He tilted his head. “I’m supposed to be with you, aren’t I?” But it wasn’t really a question and Zane found himself fighting to breathe again. He was going to be on a goddamn oxygen tank before he got his life sorted out.
“Yeah, Gray. You’re supposed to be with me.”
The last piece of Zane’s shattered heart began to wind its way home.
◆◆◆
Gray dropped his key at the front desk while Zane loaded his bags in the back of the Jeep. He got a really perverse pleasure seeing their duffles lined up next to each other on the faded metal.
When they were both seated, ready to go, Gray inhaled deeply. “I love this car.”
Zane chuckled. “Who wouldn’t?” He winked. “So, where to, Professor?”
The nickname caught Gray off guard and his eyes flew to Zane’s face. Zane could see turmoil in his eyes, but fear didn’t seem to be uppermost, so he waited for Gray to answer, prayed this wasn’t the moment Gray decided to be rational.
It wasn’t.
“I don’t think I care. Where were you going before you found me?”
Zane bit his lip. “I have a list,” he said sheepishly. He leaned over and dug it out of the glove box, elbow brushing Gray’s knee. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon.”
Gray took the sheet of notebook paper from him and read it carefully, then clicked his seatbelt into place. “Neither have I.” He smiled at Zane, sinking comfortably into the leather seat. “But the Painted Desert is on the way. I’ve always wanted to see it.”
◆◆◆
Zane made it as far as the gas station at the end of the tiny town before his goddamn traitorous conscious got the better of him. He filled the tank before sliding behind the wheel again.
“What about Collin?" He had to force the words through his teeth, jaw tight.
“I’ll call him from the road.” Gray looked at him evenly. “I’m going with you, Zane. Drive.”
So Zane drove.
◆◆◆
They stopped in Gallup to top off the gas tank and check fluids. The Jeep wasn’t temperamental, but on these long, hot roadways, he wasn’t taking any chances. Gray had gone inside to grab snacks. Zane had hinted that he better not come back with strictly bird food, but Gray had not risen to the bait, using his bossy Professor stare over the hood until Zane broke first. Damn him.
Zane sat in the driver’s seat, windows rolled down, humming along with the radio. This part of New Mexico wasn’t exactly a mecca of classic rock stations, but a little static never hurt anyone. Or so Zane had argued cheerfully when Gray had muttered under his breath earlier. His phone buzzed against his hip and he pulled it from his pocket. Harry.
Harry: Collin is pissed.
Gray must have called Collin while inside the store. Zane tried not to feel too smug.
Zane: Collin can suck my dick.
Harry: Dude. Poor word choice.
Zane: Shut up.
Zane could see Gray’s dark head through the convenience store window; he was at the checkout now. His phone buzzed again.
Harry: How is he?
Zane thought carefully before he answered. First, he barely knew how Gray was because this Gray was an enigma. He couldn’t read him as easily as before, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to a slight personality shift or to the fact that there was still lingering co
nfusion from the injury, and that was muting everything else. Or maybe Gray had just learned how to hide from Zane.
Zane: Ok. Head still bothering him.
Harry fired off an immediate reply.
Harry: Do you have his meds?
Zane: Yes mom.
Harry: Don’t be a smartass.
Harry: AND NO SEX.
Zane: OMG.
Zane: I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but he doesn’t want me like that.
Zane looked up as Gray walked out of the store, white plastic bag in hand.
Harry: Not to be repetitive, but are you high?
Zane was still chuckling when Gray slid into the passenger seat. “Everything all right?”
Zane smiled and nodded. “Yep.” His phone buzzed again and he glanced down as he started the car.
Harry: I fully expect you to delete this text after reading so there’s no proof that I have feelings and shit BUT there is not a single atom of my brother that doesn’t want you Zane Nolan. All of you. He may not know why, but he knows he wants you.
Harry: Just be careful. And I’m not talking rubbers.
Zane shoved the phone in his pocket without answering. Gray handed him a individually wrapped apple pie and Zane smiled broadly.
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
Gray rolled his eyes and tore back the peel on his banana.
Zane put the car in reverse and maneuvered back onto the exit ramp for I-40.
Also, no way in hell was he ever deleting that text message. It might be the only thing that kept him off the ledge in the darkest days ahead.
◆◆◆
The Painted Desert was incredible. Zane dutifully pulled into every overlook for Gray, expecting to be bored silly, but even he had to admit that the cone-shaped formations, stacked in layers of clay and sandstone in a kaleidoscope of colors, defied all reason. He coerced a young girl of probably twelve to snap his and Gray’s photo together at Kachina Point with his little cardboard camera.
He thought of the newspaper photo, still hanging behind the register at Joe’s; he could never bear to take it down, so it had stayed, long after Gray himself was gone. Pictures weren’t as good as the real article, but this time (please God let this be a this time) Zane was going to make sure he had plenty of both.
