Break-Away Strength

by Charlie Richards

  As Reggie had spoken, D’s jaw had sagged open and his eyes had widened. Now he whispered, “They’re all gay.”

  Reggie nodded. “They are.”

  D visibly sagged against the sofa, much of the tension draining from his shoulders. “I worried you’d find out I’m gay and, uh—” His cheeks flushed. “You’re a big guy with some impressive muscles. You could do some damage, ya know?”

  Reggie clenched his hands together, letting them fall between his thighs. He gritted his teeth, fighting down the swell of emotion, a need to protect someone like he hadn’t felt in years. After taking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

  Lifting his gaze, Reggie took in D’s still worried expression. He offered a strained smile. “You’ve been bashed before. Haven’t you?”

  Scoffing, D mumbled, “What gay man hasn’t?” His eyes widened. “I remember.” Then, his brows furrowed. “Well, I guess I don’t remember exactly. Just a feeling, I guess.”

  “Understandable,” Reggie responded. “Those kinds of encounters surely leave a lasting impression on the psyche, even if you don’t remember them.” He smiled as he continued, “And my guess would be not many... unless they remained hidden in the closet. I know Jake has already been in a scrape or two.”

  Seeing D’s cocked head, probably trying to place the name, Reggie clarified. “Jake is Carl’s son, remember? He’s a senior, graduating this year. He’s been on the football team for a couple of years, so lots of foolish teenagers, testosterone filled locker room, jock behavior.” He shrugged. “You can guess how that turns out every once in a while. He has a great group of friends who have his back, though.”

  As Reggie spoke, he noticed D yawn, twice. He leaned forward and patted his leg. “Sleep for a bit. I’m going to call Morgan, then clean the fish. Either way, I’m going to wake you in an hour.” He rose to his feet, noting how D’s gaze followed his movements, almost as if he were worried to let him out of his sight. “Just relax there,” he urged again. “Are you allergic to fish?”

  “No,” D immediately replied. In the next instant, his brows lifted. “I don’t understand how I can know that and not my name or what I was doing floating down a river alone without ID.”

  Trying to ease the young man’s concern, Reggie rested a hand on his shoulder and helped him slide sideways so he reclined on the sofa. “Once we have the answers, it’ll all make sense.” He straightened. “In the meantime, get some rest.”

  After Reggie watched D ease down on the couch and pull the blanket around his shoulders, he resisted the urge to bend down and kiss the man on the brow. Instead, he turned and strode toward the tiny mudroom. He pulled on his coat, then headed outside to grab the rest of his gear.

  Damn, his urgings were confusing. On one hand, he wanted to care for D as if he were his son. However, his desires to soothe his concerns, solve his problems, reassure him and make him smile were decidedly not fatherly. In fact, they were damn similar to how he’d felt about Catherine.

  Reggie groaned, pausing in his action of pulling up his stringer of fish. He shook his head at himself. That had to have been the most ridiculous thought he’d ever had.

  After carrying his fish to the cleaning station at the back of the cabin, he set them on the metal counter. He picked up a hammer, then, holding down first one, then the other, he gave each fish a hard, quick pop on the head. Ideally, it would kill the fish. He’d know if the fish was only knocked out, because it would start to wriggle when he sliced the knife into it just before the anal fin.

  After making quick work of cleaning his fish, Reggie washed his hands at the outdoor sink. He wiped them on his shirt, then pulled his phone free of his jeans pocket. He dialed the number Ryan had given him.

  To Reggie’s shock, after two rings, someone answered. “Hello?”

  “Uh, hey,” Reggie started inanely. Rolling his eyes at himself, he quickly added, “This is Reginald Herrera. I got your number from Ryan. I’m a friend of Carl’s and, well... I need a little medical advice.” Grimacing, he admitted, “Damn. I feel like such a leech using friends to get answers, but... I don’t feel like I have much of a choice.”

  “Ooookay,” Morgan responded slowly. “Look, I don’t have much time between patients, so, uh... in the name of helping my lover’s friend, um, can you get to the point?”

  Reggie grimaced. “Sorry. I need to know the best way to watch for and treat a concussion. I also need to know if amnesia can really be caused by a knock on the head or how I would know if someone was faking.”

  Morgan remained quiet for a few seconds, then stated, “With questions like that, I really recommend that you take him to the closest hospital.”

  Sighing, Reggie ran his free hand over his scalp. “I know, but I can’t. He—” Snapping his mouth shut, he resisted the urge to run off at the mouth with excuses that even he himself didn’t understand. He should have just taken D to the hospital as soon as he’d passed back out that first time. “Please.”

  “All right,” Morgan murmured. “Here’s my recommendation.”

  After listening to Morgan outline things to watch for and to do for ten minutes, Reggie’s mind spun. He knew he was in way over his head. Again the idea of just taking D to a hospital entered his mind, but he resisted the urge. The young man trusted him, and for some reason, keeping that trust was more important than any inconvenience.

  Reggie finally hung up. He shoved his phone in his pocket, then picked up his gutted fish and headed for the cabin. Once inside, he toed off his boots, then took his fish to the kitchen. He returned to the foyer and peeled off his outerwear.

  Taking a few steps into the front room, Reggie checked on D. He saw his charge’s eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell steadily. Deciding that if D wasn’t asleep, he was doing a damn fine job faking it, Reggie left him to it.

  He headed back into the kitchen. As quietly as possible, he opened and closed cupboard doors, pulling out supplies. He quickly seasoned the fish, wrapped them in aluminum foil, and set them aside to be grilled.

  Next, Reggie peered into another cupboard and pulled out a can of new potatoes. He took down a pot hanging from the rack and filled it halfway with water. Opening the can, he poured them into the pot. Reggie went through the same steps with a can of green beans.

  Once again, Reggie checked on D, then pulled on his warm outerwear. He took the fish outside and started up the grill. As he waited for it to heat, he focused on the nearby river and analyzed the eddies.

  The task relaxed his mind. This was why he was here at the cabin. He was here to fish and get his head on straight.

  A second later, D’s handsome face and hazel-brown eyes flashed across his mind.

  His prick thickened.

  Okay, not so straight, then.

  Reggie could be honest, at least with himself. He didn’t know when he’d last had such swift arousal time. Even beating off had become less and less appealing because it took so much work.

  One thought of D’s face and eyes had blood flowing south. Letting himself dwell on the man, he recalled the sight of his toned torso. His dick plumped further, stretching in the crotch of his jeans. When Reggie thought about the tiny rainbow tattoo and the man’s flaccid dick resting against his thigh, his own cock actually twitched.

  Sighing, Reggie cupped himself through his jeans. He tipped his head back and just reveled in the feeling of being aroused. Massaging just beneath his wide cap, he enjoyed the warm thrum pulsing through his veins.

  It had been so damn long.

  Okay, so maybe it is time to scratch that itch. Not with D, of course, but with another man. One closer to my age.

  Reggie didn’t have to let anyone else know. He could experience it in private, explore what he’d never had before. Plenty of people his age were looking for a good time, right?

  Removing his hand from his groin, Reggie smiled. He resisted the urge to keep rubbing his dick. Instead, he allowed the sensations to simmer as he placed the fish on the grill
and headed back inside to turn on the stove.

  Twenty minutes later, Reggie created two plates of food. He sure hoped D liked fish. He knew not everyone did. Hopefully, D hadn’t just been being polite earlier.

  Then, something occurred to Reggie. How would D even remember if he liked fish or not? How would he know if he had any allergies, too?

  Reggie would have to keep a close eye on him.

  Carrying both plates to the living area, Reggie spotted D pushing into a sitting position. He swung his legs over the side, wedging his back into the corner. After tucking the blanket around his legs, he smiled up at Reggie.

  Doing his best to ignore the warmth he felt upon seeing D’s smile, Reggie settled a plate on the young man’s lap. “I had planned to have a beer with my fish,” he admitted. “That’s not going to bother you is it?” Seeing D’s questioning look, he added, “Because according to the doc, you don’t get any for a while... or coffee.”

  “Good thing I don’t like coffee,” D whispered. Then, his brows shot up. “How do I know that?”

  Reggie cocked his head, uncertain. “Maybe it’s a kneejerk reaction,” he offered, trying to soothe the man. “Most people automatically offer coffee, so if you don’t like it, you probably say it a lot, I’d wager.”

  D nodded, his brows furrowed. For an instant, he just stared at his plate. Finally, he blinked, then lifted his gaze to Reggie. “I’ve already interrupted your life too much. Please, drink whatever you want. I’ll be fine with water.”

  Returning his nod, Reggie placed his plate on the coffee table. He returned to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Picking up a bottle of water from the door and a beer from the shelf, he headed back to the living room.

  As Reggie watched, he saw D lift his fork to his mouth. He gingerly slid the bite into his mouth. From the slight curve of his lips and how he immediately went back for another bite, Reggie knew D wasn’t faking liking his food.

  An inordinate amount of pleasure filled Reggie, which he knew was completely ridiculous. Still, he couldn’t remember the last time his kids had shown such enjoyment for his food. Pausing next to the couch, he frowned. When was the last time his kids had even let him cook for them?

  “Everything all right?”

  Reggie jerked out of his odd thoughts and met D’s gaze. “Yeah,” he assured, settling on the other end of the sofa. “It’s nothing.”

  He settled the bottle of water on the blanket next to D’s leg, then leaned forward and grabbed his own plate. After placing it on his lap, he popped the cap on his beer. He took a swig, then set it on the floor.

  Finally, Reggie focused on opening his own fish. He sucked in a lungful of the escaping, fragrant steam. Grunting, he eyed the perfectly prepared trout, knowing it’d be damn delicious. He’d had years to perfect it, after all.

  In an effort not to burn his tongue, Reggie stabbed his fork into several green beans. He brought them to his mouth and ate them. As he chewed, he glanced D’s way. Seeing the way the young man eyed him, he felt his prick—which had softened as he cooked—twitch a bit.

  Forcing his attraction to the back of his mind by reminding himself that he would find a more suitable partner soon, he chewed and swallowed. “Is something wrong?”

  D shook his head slowly. He glanced down and forked up another bite of his fish as he mumbled, “No, just... you lied, Reggie.” He peered at him from the corner of his eye with his brows furrowed. “I don’t know how I know, but you were thinking about something awful hard earlier and it wasn’t nothing.” His face flushed pink as he finished, “I’m sure it’s not any of my business, but... could you just say that instead of lying?”

  Chapter Four

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, D grimaced. “Shit,” he muttered. “Ignore me. I shouldn’t have said that.” Nor could he really say why he had.

  “No, it’s fine,” Reggie assured. He put down his fork and reached toward him, touching his knee lightly for a few seconds. He offered a conciliatory smile. “It seems lying is a trigger for you. You may not know why right now, but there’s a reason behind it.”

  Reggie pulled back and picked up his fork again. “It’s not that I meant to lie,” he stated, offering an almost chagrined smile. “I saw the way you enjoyed the fish and I felt a measure of pride that you liked my food so much.” Looking almost embarrassed, he added, “Then I tried to remember the last time one of my kids enjoyed my cooking so much. It’s been a long damn time since they’ve even let me cook for them, let alone me seeing an appreciative expression like that.”

  Hearing Reggie’s admission, D felt bad for pressing the guy. That was in part because he had just been reminded that his sexy older hero was a het male with kids. Was a wife waiting at home for him, too? Maybe a sweet grandmotherly type that always greeted their kids... hell, grandkids, with cookies.

  D cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he instantly apologized. “You’ve done so much for me. I shouldn’t have questioned you.” He cleared his throat, then trying to lighten the mood, he asked, “So, how many kids do you have, Reggie? Is your wife waiting at home?”

  Reggie’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. His jaw snapped shut, and he lowered the fork to his plate. Forcing a smile, he shook his head.

  “No,” Reggie admitted. “My wife, late wife, Catherine, passed away nearly ten years ago.”

  “Shit,” D hissed. “I’m so sorry. I just keep putting my foot in my mouth with you. I don’t, I don’t mean to.”

  Blowing out a breath, Reggie shook his head, then picked his fork back up. As he used the edge to cut the round white thing on his plate, he stated, “No, uh, not your fault,” he muttered. “I’ve just started finding myself attracted to another and have been feeling guilty.” He scoffed, offering a wry smile his way. “Came up here to spend a few weeks getting my head on straight and accept that life moves on... changes. Ya know?”

  D’s eyes widened. “No sex in almost ten years?” Realizing what he’d just blurted out, he dropped his fork and slapped his hand over his mouth.

  To D’s relief, Reggie barked out a laugh. “When you’re my age, you’d be surprised at how much you don’t miss it.”

  Shaking his head, D couldn’t help sweeping his gaze up and down the big man’s form. “You must have really loved her for a good looking guy like you to not miss it.” Closing his eyes, he grimaced. “Shit. You probably don’t wanna hear crap like that.” He opened his eyes and offered the man a pleading look. “Please. Please, just blame it on my head injury. I’m really not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

  Again, relief flooded D when Reggie chuckled. “You’re good for my ego, D,” he told him. Then, he cleared his throat before continuing, “In answer to your question, three kids. Oldest is my son, Seth. Two years later came Susan, and four years after that, we had Lily.”

  Reggie’s smile turned nostalgic, his look vacant as he slid a bite of the white thing into his mouth.

  Unable to contain his curiosity, D stated, “What are those?” Reggie lifted his head and focused on him, his expression questioning. D stabbed his fork into one of the small, white, oval things that Reggie had put on his plate. “This. I don’t know what it is.”

  His lips curving, Reggie swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “They’re called new potatoes,” he told him with a chuckle. “They’re small, white potatoes that come in a can.”

  “Potatoes in a can,” D mumbled, nodding. He stared at the odd-looking thing on his fork. “I’ve never heard of it, but your fish is amazing, so—” He grinned and winked at Reggie, then popped the food into his mouth.

  To his surprise, he hummed in appreciation at the mild flavor. It was a perfect complement to whatever buttery lemon-spice Reggie had used on the trout. Add in the green beans, and it was a wonderfully rounded meal.

  After D swallowed, he nodded as he said, “That’s surprisingly good.” He grabbed his water and, putting down his fork, cracked the top and chugged a few gulps of the liqu
id.

  “Is that why you gotta wash it down with water?”

  D froze for an instant, then saw the teasing light in Reggie’s eyes. He couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, yeah, old man. You and your new-fangled potatoes,” he teased with a wink. “Haven’t you heard about the invention of ketchup?”

  Reggie’s eyes widened. He gaped for an instant, then straightened. “Do you need ketchup? I have some.”

  Seeing Reggie rock forward as if to rise, D held up his hand. “No, no! Sorry. I was just teasing.”

  After a couple of seconds, Reggie eased back into his seat. His lips curved into a wry smile. “Guess I’m out of practice on that, too.”

  Uncertain what to say to that, D cleared his throat and stabbed his fork into several green beans. “So, what do you do for a job, Reg? Or are you retired?”

  “Electrician,” Reggie replied. “And I’m retired. I help out a buddy for fun now and then.”

  D’s eyes widened. “Wow, nice. That requires a lot of years of practice, right? Gotta be a journeyman and stuff, right?” After seeing Reggie nod, he rolled his eyes. “That’s way better than me. I mean, I’m just a physical trainer. I know that takes schooling, but—” Seeing Reggie’s eyes widen, he paused. Realizing what he’d said, he hissed, “Holy shit. I’m a physical trainer. How’d I remember that?”

  Reggie chuckled softly. “I think it’s another one of those... I don’t like coffee things. You’re just blurting stuff out.” He shrugged. “Stuff that’s second nature to you. When I asked the doc about amnesia, he mentioned something about listening to verbal cues... how our subconscious mind remembers things that our conscious mind won’t. These are the things that can help us find out your identity.”

  D nodded slowly as he took another bite of the fantastically flavored fish. After swallowing, he whispered, “So, what should I do?”

  Reggie’s eyes narrowed speculatively as he picked up his beer and took a long drink. As the man drank, D couldn’t help but admire his lightly tanned column of flesh. Even the slight beginning of age spots on his skin didn’t detract from his appeal, and D wished he could touch.