Jacob Michaels Is Not Jacob Michaels (A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Book 3)

by Chase Connor

  I held my hand out. “Just give me the key, Oma.”

  Oma slapped the key into my hand as if slapping me the angriest high-five ever. Ignoring her anger, I looked down at the common key and turned to the door. Ernst tugged at my pant leg with one little fist.

  “Sir.” He squeaked. “Maybe we ought-not go down there?”

  “It’ll be okay, Ernst.” I looked at Oma over my shoulder. “Right, Oma? We’re not going to find anything too crazy down there are we?”

  I smirked at her.

  “Not unless old Christmas decorations and mouse shit are scandalous to ya’.” She snapped. “Or if cobwebs are too much for your heart.”

  “There ya’ go, Ernst.” I winked down at him. “There’s nothing to worry about. Even Oma says so.”

  He glanced over at Oma and from the way he twitched, I could only imagine the face she was giving him. The fact that Ernst had taken a liking to me so quickly…or so quickly again would eventually be checked off of my To-Do List of things I needed to try and remember. However, the Kobolds in the house were not my biggest concern. They lived and moved in the shadows and kept the house clean. Maybe pulled a few harmless pranks. Otherwise, they were not the reason why I felt the way I did. Not having access to my full Rolodex of memories was the problem. Oma wasn’t going to explain it to me directly—even if she fully understood it or knew about it—so I was taking things into my own hands. I was going down into the cellar no matter how anyone felt about it.

  The lock didn’t do much once I had crammed the key into it. From the feeling of resistance, my first thought was that Oma had given me the wrong key. Either that was intentional or, she hadn’t opened the door in so long that she didn’t remember which key opened it. However, after a little steady twisting and turning, the lock started to move. Oma grumbled behind me, obviously not pleased with anything that was going on. I ignored her and twisted the key gently until the lock was disengaged.

  Instincts took over, and I didn’t stand there, looking at the unlocked door, breathing in my victory at getting access to the cellar. Instead, I turned the knob and pulled the door outwards. A cold blast of air shot up the stairs, chilling me to the bone, but only darkness greeted my eyes. Ernst shivered and moved to stand behind my legs as I peered down the dark stairwell. Looking into the darkness, all I could think about was what I would do if all of my answers were in the room beneath us. What if I went downstairs and had the biggest revelation of my life? What if I left the cellar a changed man?

  “Spooky.” Oma snorted. “Ain’t it?”

  “You got a flashlight?” I looked over at her.

  “Turn the damn light on, ya’ idiot.” She snapped. “It’s right there on the wall at eye level. You ain’t just dumb, you’re also blind.”

  “Thanks,” I stated blandly before turning to look for the switch she had referenced.

  Locating the light switch was easy enough. It was just inside the door, mounted to one of the wooden studs to the right. I gave it a quick slap and lights—well, probably one light—came on below. The cellar was still dark, but there was enough light for me to see that the floor was dirt. The stairs were wooden but solid looking, and shadows loomed everywhere. The walls of the stairwell were unfinished, as was to be expected, and there was a fair amount of dust with a scattering of cobwebs along the stairwell. Ernst was quiet, but his fingers were trying to dig into the backs of my legs. I reached down and patted the top of his head, feeling a surge of something again, but no memories flashed through my head. I laid my hand on top of his head for a moment, but nothing else happened.

  Oma was still frowning when I looked over at her with my hand atop of Ernst’s head.

  “What?” She spat.

  “Just wondering if I’m going to find any bodies down here,” I said. “I mean, you are the resident witch around here, right? Are there bones of children down there?”

  Oma squinted angrily at me.

  “Double, double, toil and trouble.” I waggled my head. “Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

  “What?” She snarled.

  “Read a book, Oma.” I rolled my eyes. “For God’s sake, pick up a damn book. Fuck, watch a play or a movie that doesn’t star me.”

  She flipped me off with a snarl.

  “Charming.”

  Oma ignored me.

  “You goin’ down there or what, smartass?” She shoved her fists against her hips. “Or are you just proving a point?”

  Instead of responding, I stepped down and began my descent into the cellar as Ernst tried to keep ahold of my pant legs. Gently, I pulled his hands away from my legs and smiled at him. Wordlessly, I let him know that he did not have to come with me, then patted him on the head again. I didn’t know if pats on the head were appropriate for Kobolds, as though treating them like a family pet, but he didn’t to mind. Ernst seemed to find the gentle touches reassuring, so I ignored my desire to examine it.

  Slowly but surely, I took one step at a time, descending further into the cellar, my fingers trailing the walls along the stairwell as I moved. After a few moments, I heard Oma stomp to the cellar door and start following me down. Whether or not that was a good thing, I wasn’t sure. If she came into the cellar with me, would she try to distract me in my examination of the room, or would she just stand there and watch. Seeing as there was no option but to let her go into the cellar—it was attached to her house after all—I walked down the last few steps. My feet touched the dirt floor, and I moved away from the steps to survey the room around me.

  Stone walls, lots of cobwebs, the kitchen floor overhead, a stack of boxes in the corner, a bare bulb mounted to one of the studs overhead. It was dank and dark and musty but otherwise looked like a fairly organized cellar. Save the dust and cobwebs, it was reasonably clean as well. Oma stepped down onto the dirt floor as well and looked at me, waving her hands around dramatically. Her grand gesture of “what did I tell you” made me want to flip her off. I controlled my instincts and just looked around the cellar at the absolute lack of anything.

  In one of my dreams, there had been a well that had been waist high with green light beaming up from wherever the bottom of it was. Reality was a different story—just a solid dirt floor from wall to wall with very few things of interest scattered around. Oma appeared impressively organized in her storage skills. Someone easily could have converted the basement into a den, a family room, or even an apartment. It wasn’t huge—but it was bigger than most apartments you’d get in New York City on a budget. Probably got more natural light, too.

  “Find what you was lookin’ for?” She snorted.

  “You’re a real peach, Oma,” I stated blandly as I turned, looking around at…nothing.

  “I can go get you a shovel if you want to dig up the floor.” She added. “Just in case you ain’t yet satisfied.”

  “If there’s nothing down here…why were you so against me coming down here?” I turned to her, lacing my arms over my chest.

  “All this damn nonsense you’ve gotten into your head—I don’t want you to keep feeding it!”

  “I’m sorry?” I laughed bitterly. “I think the Ernst, Lena and…the others whose names I can’t remember right now—”

  “Hans, Felix, and Oskar.”

  “Yeah.” I waved her off. “Them. They prove that not everything my brain comes up with is just nonsense. You lied to me about them. You said I was crazy. Well, lady, I think we proved that I was not crazy. So it’s gonna take a shit more than an empty cellar for me to believe everything is peachy keen in Fuckville, Ohio.”

  “Fuckville?” She turned her nose up.

  “I don’t know!” I threw my hands up. “I’m not really on top of my game today, all right?”

  “Obviously.” She mimicked my hands-over-chest pose and stared impassively back at me.

  “I’ve had dreams about this cellar.” I jabbed my finger down at the floor in a childish display of stubbornness.

  Should’ve stomped my foot as well.
r />   “There is something about this cellar.”

  “Well,” Oma clucked, “since I have no idea what you’re talking about, I guess you’re just going to have to find it. Dig your way to China for all I fuckin’ care. But everything better be back the way I had it before you brought your arrogant ass down here!”

  Oma waggled her head and turned towards the stairs. She laid her hand upon the handrail, and her foot landed on the first step.

  “Where’s the well, Oma?”

  Anyone who didn’t know my grandmother wouldn’t have caught it, but I saw the slight pause she took, the uncertain look on her face before she turned to me with a scowl.

  “Who has a well in their goddamn basement?”

  “There was one here in a dream I had.”

  “Then it must be true.” She rolled her eyes. “Just like the other night when I dreamed that Sam Elliott had come to make sweet love to me years back.”

  “Gross.” I turned my nose up.

  “He’s a fine lookin’ man.” She whispered conspiratorially. “And that voice. Oh, my.”

  “Well the voice is one thing, but he’s too old for me and—stop changing the goddamn subject, Oma.”

  “I ain’t changin’ the subject! You’re the one getting all hot and bothered!” She reached up to lay a hand at the front of her neck. “I’m just makin’ a point that dreams ain’t real!”

  “Oh, you’re not real!” I snapped back.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Well,” She rolled her eyes, “I’m glad to see your mental health is in a grand state. Why don’t you go lay down? Obviously, you need some rest.”

  “Blow it out your ass, Oma.” I snarled.

  Oma rolled her eyes as I stormed across the cellar, rounded her, and stomped up the steps. I didn’t even wait to see if she followed. Once I was out of the cellar, I made my way through the house and upstairs to my room. Making sure my door was shut and locked, I threw myself on the bed. Moments later, Ernst appeared from the corner behind the dresser and tiptoed towards the bed. My eyes landed on him, and he looked up at me with a disconcerted frown. Sighing, I patted the other side of the bed. Ernst crawled up and sat down in the Lotus position, his hands in his lap. Together, we both used the bed as our place to go over our concerns and worries.

  Chapter 7

  Are you scared?

  No. I’m just lost.

  I’d be scared.

  I have no reason to be scared. I just don’t know what to do. Things are changing. She’s worried.

  What do you think we should do?

  I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.

  I wish I could help you.

  We could…run away.

  Together?

  Would you run away with me?

  Of course, I…did you see that?

  What?

  Rob! Run!

  Why? What did you see?

  Rob!

  “Rob?”

  Knocking.

  Lucas’ voice.

  When I sat up in bed, shaking off the afternoon nap sleep, Ernst was standing on the bed like a meerkat at attention. The visual made me want to laugh, but I chose to rub my eyes instead, wondering when I had drifted off. The way Ernst had been standing, the feeling that we had both drifted off for a nap gradually hit me. Everything going on around us was sure to tucker a fellow out, so climbing into bed led to the inevitable.

  “Are you in there, Rob?” Lucas’ voice and another round of soft knocking sounded from the door.

  “Yeah.” I croaked, then cleared my throat. “Hold on.”

  Ernst looked over at me warily.

  “Hide for now, Ernst.” I winked at him. “It’ll be okay.”

  Ernst nodded, then hopped off the bed and disappeared underneath. Whether he was hiding under the bed or had used the shadows underneath to just…leave…I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. I bounced to the side of the bed and slung my legs over. Since I knew that Lucas wouldn’t be ignorant enough to bring Oma to my room with him, I quickly unlatched the door and swung it wide. Lucas was standing there, a crooked smile on his face. He had on his work jeans, a long sleeve flannel, his Carhartt, and it was evident that he had been working all day.

  Before I could stop myself, I had twisted my fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him into the room. I slammed the door and locked it behind him and had shoved Lucas towards the bed before he could utter a word. Lucas looked at me with wide eyes as I pulled him into me and smothered his mouth with mine. My fingers traveled down to his waist to tug his shirttail out of his jeans before they moved to the front to start undoing buttons. Lucas looked up at me with wonder as I pulled my mouth away from his to work on extricating him from his shirt.

  “What’s gotten into you, babe?” He chuckled appreciatively.

  “I missed you so much.” I exhaled.

  “I missed you, too.” He reached up and ran a thumb along my cheek as my fingers continued working.

  “How much did you miss me?” I asked as I pulled his shirt open and pushed it over his shoulders and off of him.

  Lucas reached up and took my face in his hands.

  “I know where this behavior is leading,” Lucas whispered through a toothy grin. “And…I don’t want to keep you from wanting to do that, babe. But what’s going on here?”

  “I told you,” I said as I leaned forward to kiss him again. “I missed you.”

  “A few days ago, you didn’t even want to admit you wanted me around, Rob.” He moaned happily as my mouth moved to his neck. “And now you miss me all the time? I’m not complaining, but…unh!”

  My hand had snaked its way into the front of his pants as I kissed and bit at his neck. Lucas’ hips pushed forward of their own accord as my hand began to move and I licked a trail from the side of his neck down to his collarbone. Lucas’ fingers found my hair as my tongue traveled down to the middle of his chest and my knees slowly bent, taking me to lower places. As my tongue trailed over his stomach, and my knees connected with the floor, I looked up at Lucas, grinning evilly as he looked down at me, his eyes wide, his fingers tugging at my hair.

  “I hope you never stop missing me.” He breathed out as I ripped the front of his jeans open.

  Later, as the sun was starting to set, the sky turning pink, I was laid alongside Lucas in the bed. We hadn’t gotten as far as removing the rest of our clothes, though both of us were completely satisfied. My head was just below Lucas’ chin, pressed against his chest, both of my arms wrapped around him as I held myself against him. Lucas’ fingers were raking through my hair gently, a gesture that would be soothing in most situations, but only kept me on the edge of hunger and satiated. My face nuzzled his chest as he kissed the top of my head, his breath wispy in my hair.

  “What do you know about amnesia, Lucas?” I asked softly.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re a college boy.” I chuckled throatily. “What do you know about amnesia? Or memories?”

  “I didn’t go to med school.” He replied, kissing my head again. “English. Remember? They didn’t really explain neurology or anything like that much.”

  “Oh.” I kissed his bare chest, my eyes moving to look at the top of his jeans, still flapped open.

  Lucas was tucked away inside of his boxers, but just seeing his pants unbuttoned and wide open made me warm and think thoughts that were not conducive to what I wanted to achieve.

  “I feel like I have so much to make up for.” I whispered against the tight flesh of his chest. “So much time to make up.”

  “Well, you were gone for a decade,” He laughed lowly. “That’s a lot of years you weren’t spending with me when it’s obvious you should have been.”

  “Obviously,” I replied. I wasn’t being sarcastic. “A few days ago, I was sure that getting into a relationship…with anyone…was a huge decision. Now I feel like I should have run back home years ago—back to you.”

  “That doesn’t m
ake sense, Rob.” He was pulling my face up to look at me.

  Lucas planted a kiss on my lips then stared into my eyes.

  “When did we first meet?” I asked.

  He shrugged lazily. “I mean, Point Worth has three school buildings. I’m sure we initially met in kindergarten or first grade. I don’t know. We never really ran in the same circles, so it’s hard to pinpoint.”

  “I can kind of remember you from freshman and sophomore years,” I said. “But, it’s hazy. Like I don’t really remember you there. And I feel like I’ve missed you since then. But I also feel like if we went to the same schools for so many years, I should have a better memory of seeing you around.”

  Lucas stared at me for a long time, his fingers trailing through my hair gently, slowly, as he thought. I could practically hear the wheels clicking in his brain as he considered what I was saying.

  “What’s this about, Rob?”

  “Do you remember me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “You played guitar a lot. And sang. And you were in plays, and the choir and…you were the special kid. The one everyone else wanted to be, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Half the kids hated you, and half of them loved you—but they all wanted to be you. You never gave anyone a reason to hate you…or love you for that matter.”

  He laughed.

  “But you were extraordinary.”

  “That’s pretty vague.”

  “How is that vague?”

  “You told me that you’ve been enamored with me since high school.” His fingers stopped moving. “That night we first…made love.”

  “Yes.” He breathed the word.

  “Which locker did I have in school?” I asked. “Where was it? Do you remember a time you looked up at lunch and saw me walking by your table? What was I wearing? Did you ever talk to me in class? Ask me for a spare pen or pencil? Did we accidentally bump into each other in the hallway and chuckle and say ‘excuse me’ or even ‘Go fuck yourself’? Do you remember me raising my hand in class to answer a question? Who were my friends? Give me some details.”