by Ann Grech
Before I could back out of the room, Cherie hung up her cell, placed it gently down on the counter, and asked in a deathly calm tone, “Mom, would you like to explain to me why the kitchen is telling me that a last-minute change to the menu was made for both breakfast platters?” When her mother looked haughtily over to her, I could see the feigned innocence as if it were a neon flashing light above her head. The flash of a smirk, which she quickly covered up, was a dead giveaway. “Don’t pretend you’re clueless. You added a selection of mixed nuts when you know damn well my fiancée is allergic to them.”
“I thought it would be lovely to have some nuts with the fruit,” she replied matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge her.
I’d heard enough. I motioned to the door, and when I realized neither of them would see me, I scurried out. There was no way I was getting involved in that. Cherie’s mom had been awful from the start, trying to do everything in her power to tear them apart, and now it seemed like she’d stepped it up a notch. I headed to Kora’s suite across the homestead and got busy snapping photographs after I warned her away from the platter.
The day went off without too much more of a hitch, but I didn’t see Cherie’s mother around again either. I’d heard rumors that she’d been asked to leave and hadn’t gone easily, but I’d been busy taking photos of Cherie and Kora’s kids. The little boy and girl were adorable, and I’d gladly whisked them away when Cherie’s brother had barged into the room warning Kora about the platter and explaining what was going on.
By the time I fell into bed that night, exhausted but glad that I’d captured their happiest moments together, all I wanted was to curl up around Trent. It wouldn’t happen that night but that was okay. I could wait.
I hated waking Trent up after such a long shift, but he’d asked me to in his note. We were already late to Ricky’s house. It didn’t matter though; it wasn’t like the get-together to welcome Caden, his daughter, Gracie, and his father, Gabe, home was a surprise party. As long as we were in time for supper, it’d be fine. I transferred the casserole I’d cooked to a thick terracotta bowl, covered it, and wrapped it in a towel so Trent could hold it on the drive over. Then I made a coffee for Trent, doctoring it just how he liked it before taking it into him. He was in his bed today, taking the room the farthest away from the kitchen and my office so he could sleep. Six hours wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.
I opened the door and peeked inside, slipping in before placing the mug gently down on the nightstand. Trent was sprawled out on his stomach, lying diagonally across the bed. The dark sheets pooled low around his waist and contrasted with the threadbare white tee he wore. There was a strip of smooth skin that peeked above the waistline of his pajama pants—this time a gray set—that I wanted to lick. I palmed my semi, reveling in the sexual attraction that washed over me. I wasn’t a creeper: it wasn’t like I was going to jack off in his room while he slept, but damn, he certainly was something to look at. One arm was up near his face, the other tucked into his side. One knee was bent, his perfect ass right there for me to stare at. And I finally could.
I sat down close to him and ran my fingers through his short hair, then continued on over his shoulders and down his back. He groaned as if he were in pain and shifted, rolling onto his side and curling around me. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple, and this time he hummed, his lips tilting up in a smile. “Second day in a row you’ve woken me like this,” he mumbled before stretching. He groaned again and moved a hand to his back.
“You okay?” I asked, concern lacing my voice as I rubbed up and down his spine gingerly.
“Yeah, long night. We had call out after call out and there was a lot of heavy lifting. My back’s a bit sore, but a hot shower’ll help.” Trent moved, blinking his eyes open and placing his hand on my leg. I smiled at the small move. It wasn’t much, but it was huge at the same time. Having him show me any kind of affection made me want to pinch myself.
His wince when I touched a sore spot had me concerned. “If you’re not feeling up to going tonight, we can cancel. It’s not a big deal.”
He turned to face me, his eyes staying open for the first time since I woke him up. “No. Your brother’d like you there, and I know you wanna go. Gimme a few minutes and I’ll have a shower, then we can leave.”
I shifted, letting him sit up, but he threaded our fingers together and tugged me closer. “Hi,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.
I smiled and kissed him again, murmuring “Hi” back.
It didn’t take long for Trent to have a shower and join me in the kitchen as I plucked a bottle of red from the wine rack. I nearly dropped the bottle when I saw him. Dark blue jeans that hugged his thighs and ass, a plain white Henley, and his black leather jacket paired with a chunky pair of boots. The dark stubble on his chin, which was almost thick enough to be a beard, gave him a rougher edge while his cologne had me swaying closer to him, breathing him in.
He smirked, then motioned to the car, picked up the casserole, and headed out with me following like a puppy dog. Shaking out of it, I plucked my keys, wallet, and cell phone off the countertop on the way and drove the few minutes to my brother’s house. As we stood on the front step after ringing the doorbell, I slipped my hand under Trent’s jacket, low on his back, and rubbed. “How is your back?”
“Good.” He nodded and turned to me, moving out of my reach. He motioned to the dish he was holding and asked, “So what did you make?”
I let my hand drop and answered awkwardly. “Just a casserole. Nothing too complicated—meat, potatoes, and pumpkin. Fresh herbs. Lots of garlic and wine.”
Ford opened the door and welcomed us, saying, “Come on in, guys. We were wondering where you’d gotten to.”
“Worked the night shift,” Trent explained. “I slept in a bit. Sorry we’re late.” He pushed past Ford and headed straight for the kitchen, placing the bowl down gently on the countertop. I stood stock still, suddenly not in the mood to be there. Either I’d misread the signs, or Trent didn’t want me touching him in front of our closest friends. When Ford tilted his head, looking at me curiously, I plastered on a fake-ass smile and walked in, letting him close the door behind me.
The night went off without too much of a hitch. Ricky had love hearts in his eyes every time he looked at Caden and Mason and was touching one of them the whole night. Caden’s pops, Gabe, seemed great, and I fell in love with Gracie on sight. She was the most precious thing. It was a competition with Reef, but I held her for as long as he’d let me, and I managed to feed her a bottle. If nothing else, she kept my hands busy. She kept me from wanting to touch Trent. From snuggling up against his side like we’d done in bed. My mind was still going a million miles a minute, analyzing every move each of us made. He kept his distance from me, seemingly deep in conversation with Gabe for most of the night while I caught up with the others. Every time he made a move, I countered, going in the opposite direction to keep as much space between us as possible. I was probably overthinking things, but I didn’t think I could cope with him fobbing me off again.
It wasn’t until Gracie was fast asleep in her new bedroom and we were all chilling on the sofas eating dessert that I found myself sitting next to him. We were all talking and laughing, and I knocked my shoulder into his, teasing him about landing face-first in the snow when he skied the bowl cut into the mountain at Cardrona. I was too close. It was too personal a move. My gut sank, nerves exploding as I waited for him to pull away. To push me away like I made him dirty. But he didn’t. His move in response was subtle but it rekindled my hope. He looked at me and smirked, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks turning pink. When he leaned closer, just an infinitesimal amount, I felt his breath catch and watched as his eyes flicked to my lips then back up again. Still looking at me, he responded, “We could talk about the day you slipped on the green run, you know.”
I swallowed hard, resisting the temptation to lean closer. Instead, I pouted as playfully as I could.
“I was lugging around cameras and a bag of lenses through ankle-deep icy slush and trying to take shots of a couple who wanted to run off to their honeymoon straight after they’d said their vows. I hardly had a chance to take any damn photos before they were off again. Who does that? Leaves their photographer in the dust?”
The laughter and conversation still surrounded us, but I drifted into my own thoughts again. I needed to know. I needed Trent to spell it out to me. Uncertainty swirled around me like a whirlwind, questions spinning around in my head. Did Trent want to keep us a secret? Or was he comfortable with us? Was he ashamed of me? Or did he just need more time to adjust? The more I asked of myself, the more arose, leaving me teetering on an edge ready to fall into a vortex that I was a little terrified by. I wanted to go home, but I didn’t want to be rude. I wanted to talk, but I feared what he’d say. Being pushed and pulled in every which way, I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. But the anxious flutter in my belly didn’t let up. When Gabe finally stood up and started collecting the dessert bowls, I didn’t hesitate, quickly taking the hint. But I was torn too. Was I ready to face the conversation that would no doubt change the course of our future?
Placing my bowl on the countertop, I looked around the kitchen and bit back a sigh. We couldn’t leave it like that. Like he was reading my thoughts, Ricky dismissed us, saying, “Just leave it all. I’ll clean up later.”
I could have hugged my brother. Without thinking, I placed a hand low on Trent’s back and went to guide him out the door. Even through his shirt, he was warm against my fingertips. It was an innocent touch, something I would have done to anyone. At least to anyone else. The second I touched him, I knew it was a mistake. He stiffened, and my gut rolled. I froze. Suddenly the dinner I’d had didn’t seem like a good idea. I closed my eyes and blew out a shaky breath. I wasn’t good enough to be anything but his secret. He wanted to keep our relationship hidden. To lock it away like something dirty. He was ashamed of me, of us.
I didn’t have a chance to drop my hand. He moved so damn fast that he would have given Usain Bolt a run for his money. I sucked in a breath at the sharp pain lancing through my chest before shoving my hands in my pockets.
“We’re gonna head off, then,” I muttered, trying to hide the hurt. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Rick.”
The drive home was quiet. Trent didn’t even look at me, and I didn’t know what I would have said or done even if he had. When I pulled into the garage, I didn’t bother waiting for him. I got out, closed my door, and went straight to my room, changing into a pair of sweats. He wasn’t due at work for over an hour, but when I walked out to make a cup of tea, he was already in his uniform. Keys in hand, he walked by me with his head down, not saying a single word. I reached for him and grasped his hand as he stepped past. He stopped, his shoulders hunched over and mouth turned down in a frown, but he squeezed my fingers. That simple move—holding my hand tighter rather than pulling away—mended something in me. At the same time it shattered me all over again. I knew he didn’t hesitate to touch me because it was just us, but he was still touching me. I dared another look at him, watching his chest move up and down as he took a breath. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he looked over to me, and the raw pain etched into his expression stalled the air in my lungs. He’d hurt me, but it was nothing compared to the bleakness I saw in his eyes. I wasn’t a pushover—even though it seemed like I was always backing down with him—but something in me told me to let it drop. I forced the words out, squeezing them past the constriction in my lungs. “Be safe, Trent.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and rubbed his face with his free hand before looking down at our joined ones. “I will.” He squeezed my fingers again and gave me a small smile before walking out to the garage. I didn’t move. I didn’t see him off. I couldn’t. I rubbed my chest. My heart hurt. My lungs felt like they’d been caught in a vise. I wanted to curl up and cry. Mourn for Trent’s pain. I was hurting, but that paled in comparison to what I’d seen etched into his features. It cut me deeper than my own pain.
Mechanically, I made my tea and curled up on the sofa, staring into space. I shifted the cushions around and tried to get comfortable, but every time I moved, I heard a snap. A crinkle. There must have been something there. I’d look later, but for the moment I ignored it, closing my eyes as exhaustion washed over me.
I napped, tired but too uncomfortable to fall into a deep sleep. I wanted to stretch out, but the best I could do was hang my feet off the edge of the sofa. I shifted and heard the crunch again. The noise was annoying as hell. I dug around between the cushions but didn’t find anything until I slipped my hand down the side of the sofa. My fingers brushed against some paper, feeling along the neat fold. I pulled it out, having no idea what I held in my hands, but I could feel the writing pressed through the page. Curiosity got the better of me and I unfolded it, freezing when I saw the words Dear Mom and Dad in handwriting I’d know anywhere.
I folded it back up and smoothed the creases in the paper before placing it onto the coffee table. I shouldn’t read it. There was no doubt it was private, and while I desperately wanted to know more about him, I’d never violate his trust in me like that.
13
Trent
Work had never felt so long. So arduous. My fourteen-hour night shift had come to a close and I couldn’t wait to get home. I was about two minutes away from pulling into the drive, but I was scared to do it too. I’d nearly asked Angelo whether he’d still be there when I arrived home. Whether I’d fucked up badly enough that he wouldn’t want anything more to do with me, because typical me, I’d managed to ruin things already. As soon as I’d tensed at Rick’s house, I wanted to kick myself. It was a simple touch, nothing like what I’d hoped might happen when we took things to the next level. Now I might never know, and in the process, I’d hurt him. Again.
I wasn’t ready to do PDAs yet, but we were in a safe place at Rick’s house. Hell, if we couldn’t be ourselves there, with two bisexual men who were glued at the hip and a second trio of men, where could we? Logically, I knew that, but letting go and exposing that part of myself again was terrifying. Revealing myself to Angelo had taken me half a decade of trust. To then do the same thing only a few days later in front of some people who were relative strangers? It was harrowing. I wished I could be more like Angelo. He was himself wherever he went. He had his own unique style and you either accepted him, or you didn’t. But I couldn’t be like that. I was scared. Afraid of being judged. No, that wasn’t right… I was afraid of being punished again for being honest. Once more, logic told me that there wouldn’t be a punishment like the one I’d endured at the hands of my godfather, but still. Fear was a powerful motivator to hide. And the closet was safe. I’d been in there for so long that the straight jock costume I wore now fit me like a second skin. Slipping out of it and going to a get-together as the real me was like walking down the main street of town naked.
The crushing pain of knowing how much I’d hurt Angelo again overwhelmed me. But then he’d reached for me. Grasped my hand. He’d given me a lifeline, and I’d latched on. When he’d told me to be safe—the same thing he told me before every shift—I knew we’d be okay in the end. I was going to have to work hard to get over my insecurities, but for him, I’d do it. I wanted to live freely. I wanted it with him. The fear I had was eventually going to make me stronger. It had to, or I’d be stuck behind the closet’s locked doors forever, and while I could live a life hidden away, I’d never drag Angelo in there with me.
I closed the garage door behind me as I pulled in and hauled myself out into the townhouse. Angelo wandered out of his office as I walked in, and he smiled tentatively at me. I’d never been as relieved, as grateful to see him in my life. Dropping my bag, I strode forward and wrapped him in my arms. He was stiff for a moment. Unyielding. But then he tentatively brushed his fingers over my hair, and I squeezed him tighter. I shook in his arms, overwhelmed with relief, fear, and exhaustion. He held me
close and I whispered over and over again that I was sorry. Sorry for hurting him. Sorry for denying him. I wasn’t ready to dance in Winter Pride yet, but it was on me, not him.
Angelo held me just as tight. He kissed my hair. He whispered soothingly to me, and when I finally had the strength to pull back, he brushed his fingertips across my cheek and tilted my face up to his, kissing me slowly. “Please be patient with me,” I begged, my forehead pressed against his. “I want you. I want us. I want to be free, but I don’t know how.”
“I’m here, Trent. We’ll work it out together. I promise.” He ran his fingers through my hair, and I closed my eyes, sinking into his touch. “You need some sleep. You’re exhausted.”
I nodded. I was weary. Beyond shattered. I was tired at the beginning of my shift, already sleep deprived. It was a crazy shift too. Call out after call out except for an hour six hours into the shift. Instead of resting like my partner did when we had time for some shut-eye, I’d paced. Ruminated over my screwups.
Angelo took my hand and led me to my room, stopping as we reached my bed. He turned and undid the buttons on my green shirt before moving to my belt and undoing it too. He dropped to his knees and unlaced my boots, pulling them off when I lifted my foot. Peeling my socks off, he tossed them toward the hamper I kept in there, missing both times. When he stood, he rested his hand on the side of my face and kissed my cheek, a soft, lingering kiss. I turned into it and took his lips, our tongues sliding and recapturing the moment we’d first expressed that we loved the other. I held him close, wanting there to be no gap between us. I needed him. Needed him to hold me. To love me.
I whispered the words against his lips again, “I love you,” coming more freely this time.
Angelo’s response, his murmured “Love you too” meant everything. I closed my eyes and sank into his touch, letting him undress me slowly. I was down to my boxers when Angelo stopped, resting his hands on my hips and brushing his thumbs over my sides.
