by Eleanor Dax
Chapter 1
“'We've met?' Seriously?”
“Well, we have.”
What was the use? Ethan Banks shut his mouth and kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. Clapping eyes on Beau back at the brewhouse had thrown his whole world off-center and he hadn't quite recovered.
He'd just come out of the back room with a fresh keg and nearly dropped it on his foot in shock. His boss hadn't looked very impressed with the slip, but Ethan couldn't believe what he was seeing. He hadn't set eyes on Beau Baker in over three years. The idea that he might just show up one day at Ethan's work was straight out of fantasy.
And Ethan would know - that particular fantasy was an old favorite.
His boss, Tony, pointed a clicky pen in Ethan's direction before jamming it behind his ear and replacing it with two thick, accusing fingers. “If you think you're getting a dime out of me when you break your goddamn leg," he barked, "you're even nuttier than that garbage you call art.” To Beau, he asked tersely, “Now, you're looking for what? A radio station?”
“Radio tower,” Beau corrected. “I heard there's a shortcut.” He stood at the bar, hands stuck leisurely in the pockets of dark, tailored gray slacks, and made the scuffed, faded interior of Ansel Brew look even worse than it normally did. He looked impossibly at ease for a man who was in a bar to ask questions and not drink.
With a nod and perfunctory smile, Beau finally greeted him. “Hello, Ethan.”
Setting the keg carefully down, Ethan clapped the dirt and sawdust from his hands. "Sorry, Tony,” he muttered. "Hi.” He looked at Beau in amazement. “What are you doing here?” Beau's whole get-up screamed 'city.' Maybe the edge in Tony's voice hadn't been entirely due to Ethan's sweaty palms.
“Working. And yourself?”
Wasn't it obvious? Suddenly tongue-tied, Ethan shrugged.
When Tony's gaze fell on Ethan again, it was even less impressed than before. “Friend of yours?” he growled. Tony wasn't a bad guy, he just liked to get his money's worth. Ethan couldn't exactly blame him for that, but before he could defend himself, Beau answered.
“We've met.”
Now outdoors, a mile or so from the pub, they climbed in silence, the path narrowing until it forced them to go one at a time. There was a perfectly good road, but apparently Beau was set on doing it this way. In fact, he had somehow taken the lead, leaving Ethan to glower at his back. “So you do know where you're going?” he muttered.
In his mind, they'd parted amicably enough. It had been the right decision for him at that time and Ethan didn't for a second regret making it. He did wish like hell it had never happened, though, but that was why they invented therapy. It had just been bad timing, he reminded himself. If they'd had a real chance, who knew how things might have ended up?
The truth was, Ethan wasn't about to go around telling people, but for him, Beau was it. The One. He was sure. He dated a little, but not once in the three years since moving to Ansel had he come close to establishing that level of connection.
Granted, the town was small. Even for straight guys his age, options were limited. For Ethan, gay, pushing thirty, and financing an art career by slinging beers for locals, it was fairly dismal. Now, here Beau was, looking as trim and handsome as ever, and instead of warm blue eyes, Ethan was met with polite distance.
Bummer, man.
It wasn't just the sex he missed. That had been amazing, for sure, but it was everything else, too. With Beau, Ethan had felt like a funnier, smarter, sexier version of himself. Now, he relied far too heavily on puns, was of average intelligence at best, and, in the looks department, well, unremarkable; his nose was too big, his face a touch too narrow. He'd always been on the lanky side and that hadn't much changed.
Beau's reception of him now only hammered those points home.
Yeah, it hurt, all right. He kicked a rock and watched it scatter off into the brush.
Ahead of him, Beau stopped and Ethan nearly crashed right into him.
Catching himself on a tree, he asked, panting, “Problem?”
Beau's response was slow in coming. “Shouldn't we be there by now?”
With a put upon sigh, Ethan brushed past him and took the lead. “We're close. Come on.”
It wasn't long before they found the trail again and Ethan took them to the top. The facility was just ahead, the ground littered with broken bottles and its walls covered in tags. Some looked fresh.
“There it is,” he said and hung back as Beau went ahead, eyes glued to the ground, as usual. That got a little smile out of Ethan. Beau was always finding the little discarded knick-knacks people dropped. It was good to see that hadn't changed.
He watched Beau wander the perimeter with his hands in his pockets, but soon lost interest and turned his face skyward. The early evening clouds were streaked with a touch of pink. Thanks to Beau's leadership skills, it had taken them a little longer to reach the facility than Ethan had predicted.
“It's going to get dark fast,” he warned.
“All right,” said Beau before disappearing around the side of the building.
Ethan's mouth formed a flat line. He was pretty sure Beau had barely heard him. He lingered near the road, trying to decide when he should push for them to go. He guessed they had a solid hour to get back down to familiar surroundings, so there was no real rush, but Ethan liked to have some 'just in case' time:
Just in case they got turned around.
Just in case they were hit by The Big One.
Just in case Beau decided to come clean, declare his feelings, and have a passionate makeout sesh with Ethan right there on the side of the mountain.
Anything like that.
After a few minutes of just waiting, Ethan decided to follow Beau around the other side of the building.
It was a strange piece of architecture, a square, high structure made of reinforced concrete. It was slowly crumbling, too, due to a combination of exposure and disuse, and steel bars were visible in places.
“Beau?” But when Ethan turned the corner, it was empty. A bad feeling twisted his gut. He tried again, calling Beau's name, careful to keep the worry from his voice, but heard no response.
He kept walking and eventually came to an open door. Someone had placed a large rock between it and the jamb to keep it ajar. Poking his head in, Ethan tried once more. “Beau?”
His voice echoed in the dark. Fumbling for his phone, he found the flashlight app and held it out in front of him.
The bright white light lit up a wide, L - shaped room furnished with a single metal desk and filing cabinet. Debris was strewn about: papers, dirt, dry leaves, and an empty, black maw waited for him at the far end. As his gaze stopped on it, Ethan shrank back.
A big, creepy doorway, he nervously thought. Cool. He felt suddenly, strangely detached.
“Beau?” As he listened, he stared at the black square and a sour taste filled the back of his mouth. He spit on the ground.
The room was clearly empty, but somehow didn't feel that way. The hairs on the back of Ethan's neck stood on end. This was an empty, forgotten place - emphasis on forgotten.
But if that were true, why the hell had Beau driven all the way down here and insisted Ethan take him to see it?
“This isn't funny!” he shouted.
It wasn't like Beau to leave someone hanging. Was it? But literal years had passed. Maybe Ethan needed to accept that, at this point, he probably didn't know Beau well at all.
He hung there, frozen with indecision. It didn't seem likely that Beau would have gone farther into the room. It didn't seem likely that he would enter that dark, terrible square. He would have brought a light, for one, and if Ethan knew anything, it was that beyond that black portal lay nothing, but darkness.
�
�Banks,” he said out loud, impatient and frustrated. “It's a fucking door. Get a grip.”
Yes, it was a door. Not a mouth, not a maw, just a simple door at the end of a room. And it was open. Still, a sick feeling twisted his gut when Ethan stared at it. Who knew what could be in there? The place had to be abandoned - but just how abandoned where they talking? He couldn't help that nagging feeling that the radio tower wasn't as empty as it seemed. Slowly, cautiously, he walked deeper into the room.
As he got closer, a strange sound reached his ear, faint. He almost wasn't sure he really even heard it. Ethan frowned. “Hello?” he called. “Is someone there?”
Behind him, a loud bang sent Ethan jumping out of his skin. “Jesus!” he shouted, wheeling around. A dark silhouette filled the exit and as Ethan's stomach dropped, his eyes adjusted.
Beau said coolly, “There you are. What are you doing in here, anyway?”
Opening his mouth, Ethan found he couldn't speak. He swallowed hard and tried again, answering numbly, “Looking for you.”
With a brief chuckle, Beau answered, “Well, you're not going to find me in there.”
It was the blitheness of Beau's comment that did it. Ethan's fear eased and he felt hollow inside. It wasn't long before embarrassment and anger filled that space. Before he said something he might regret, he headed for the exit, muttering, “'Scuse me.”
Calm and obliging, Beau moved aside, studying Ethan as he passed.
Being outside helped. Ethan breathed several heavy lungfuls of cool, damp air and his head started to clear. “Didn't you hear me calling?” he demanded.
Slowly, Beau shook his head. He smiled at Ethan like he'd smiled at Tony back at the bar, like he were humoring him.
Heat filled Ethan's cheeks. Turning away, he walked nearly to the tree line before composing himself. From behind him came the sound of footfall over dry twigs and leaves.
“Are you all right?” There was no longer any trace of humor in Beau's voice and somehow that was worse. Ethan knew exactly what Beau was thinking because he was thinking it, too.
But that didn't mean he wanted to discuss it. “I'm good,” he answered tightly. “Find anything?”
Still watching him, Beau shrugged. “Enough for now.”
“Then we should go.” Without waiting for a reply, Ethan headed back to the path. He was eager to put as much space between himself and that building as he could before nightfall. Behind him, Beau jogged to catch up.
“You didn't have to come, you know,” he pointed out.
“Like you'd have found the place,” Ethan snapped. “You're welcome, by the way.”
The following silence took some of the wind out of Ethan's sails. Beau had never been the defensive type. Maybe Ethan had overreacted.
They walked in quiet for a few minutes and Ethan's thoughts turned dark circles in his mind. He couldn't help but glance repeatedly over his shoulder and nearly tripped over a rock. He caught himself in time, but still Beau reached out.
“Whoa! You all right?”
Ethan nodded.
Of course it would go this way. He'd only pined after the guy for three long years. Pressing his fingers against his eyelids, Ethan tried to shake it off. So much for progress. His therapist would have a field day with this one. Feeling responsible for the weird mood, he said, “It gets dark fast out here.”
“I can imagine.”
Ethan wasn't sure what to say to that and they walked again in quiet. What the hell was wrong with him? He was supposed to be better than this by now.
“Hello? Ethan?”
“Huh?” Roused from his troubled thoughts, Ethan looked over. Beau stared at him sidelong, eyebrows raised. He clearly expected a response. Sheepishly, Ethan said, “Sorry. What?”
Without skipping a beat, Beau asked, “I asked how you like it here. Seems like a strange choice for you.”
“Does it?” Ethan envied the ease and polite neutrality of Beau's manner. “How come?”
Beau shrugged and explained, “It's just you seemed to enjoy the city life.”
Eager for the distraction, Ethan considered the comment. Maybe at one time he had enjoyed the city life. “I needed a break,” he said. “I guess it can be isolating here, but so is San Francisco.” He shrugged. “I don't know. It's a lot cheaper, that's for sure.”
“I believe it.”
The lack of judgment made it easier for Ethan. The radio tower and that damned door seemed far behind them now. He continued, “And it's quiet. Beautiful, too. You can see the stars at night. That's kind of something.”
Around them was nothing but green and the quiet chatter of nearby critters, the rustle of wind through leaves. Every once in a while the faint whoosh of a car reached their ears. “Are you still in your house?” he asked after a polite moment.
Beau seemed to weigh some decision. “Yes,” he said at last.
Feeling more confident, Ethan decided to push him a little. “Is that your final answer?” he asked, and offered a sly, sidelong smile.
Beau's grin was frank. “It's the easy one.”
“I'm all for easy. Hey, there's the bar.” Ethan was relieved. He did like it in Ansel, that was true. He liked the quiet and solitude. But at night, it got dark - really dark, and, most especially after their little adventure at the tower, he wanted nothing to do with it.
Beyond the reach of downtown's cozy, tight-knit glow, there were no streetlamps in Ansel. Instead, there was nothing but trees and dark and winding mountain roads. It was far too easy to get turned around and, once that happened, things could go downhill quick - figuratively and for real.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Beau asked, catching him off guard.
Ethan considered the offer. Part of him wanted to prove just how over Beau he was and decline, but another part was desperate for any scrap of time. Why couldn't there be a healthy, happy medium? Plenty of people could grab drinks with their exes and not immediately enter crisis mode - or so he assumed. Then again, plenty of people could also confront open doorways without spiraling into a panic attack. “Sure,” he said at last. “But I'm buying.”
Chapter 2
Ethan led the way inside. Things were quiet, normal for a Tuesday evening. Tony was nowhere to be seen, but the head bartender, Molly, was there chatting up a couple of regulars. Ethan bobbed his head hello and asked Beau what he was drinking.
Hands in his pockets, Beau glanced around the place as if he hadn't just been there an hour ago. He shrugged. “Surprise me.”
Ethan poured them a couple drafts and joined Beau on the other side of the bar. “Cheers,” he said.
After a moment, Ethan wiped the foam from his mouth, swallowed his pride, and said, “Sorry about that, by the way. Up there.” He sneaked a look.
Beau was shaking his head, frowning at his glass. “You don't have to apologize. You don't have to apologize for anything.”
The response made Ethan feel glad. He studied the side of Beau's face, the best long look he'd gotten in some time. The last few years had been kind to Beau. A little gray flecked his hair. Ethan resisted the urge to run his fingers through it.
Beau asked, “Had you ever been up there before?”
Wrapping both hands around his beer, Ethan nodded. “Not as close as that, but yeah. I always figured it was some government building.”
Beau said easily, “You aren't far off. It's an Air Force radio tower, built to survive a nuclear blast-supposedly, anyway.”
Remembering the crumbling walls, Ethan had his doubts.
As if he could read Ethan's thoughts, Beau said archly, “I know.”
They drank in silence for another moment. Then Beau's phone buzzed, just once. Instead of sneaking a glance at the lighted display, Ethan watched Beau's face. A line appeared between his brows as he skimmed and finally dismissed the text.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Beau casually asked.
Gee, wonder what brought that up? A little disappointed, Ethan shook his head. “You?” When Bea
u hesitated to answer, Ethan held up a finger and said, “Again, not a trick question.”
Beau's smile was perfunctory. “Since you like easy answers, here's another: no. I'm not.”
Naturally, Ethan wanted to know more. Feeling brave, he jutted his chin at Beau's phone on the bar. “So who was that?”
The look Beau gave him could be interpreted as one of warning, but Ethan only grinned at him, big, toothy and guileless.
Relaxing by a fraction, Beau answered tightly, “Preston.” He seemed to brace himself for judgment.
Ethan's brows climbed into his hairline, but he wisely elected to keep his mouth shut. Preston was a detective with the San Francisco PD. Ethan had met him a handful of times and always left the encounters with a bad taste. It didn't help that the guy was Beau's longtime ex and had a serious case of wandering eye and dick.
“Wow, okay,” Ethan said at last. He wasn't in Beau's life anymore and hadn't been for a long time. And as long he was being reasonable, he might as well recall that Preston had a much longer history with Beau than he did.
“You want another?” he asked, eager to change the subject.
Beau stared at the inch or so of beer left in his glass, deciding. “All right.”
Molly came over as Ethan started to rise from his seat. “I got you,” she said. “What are we drinking?”
“Thanks. The brown.”
“Brown it is.” Molly studied Beau as she pulled their drinks, then looked pointedly at Ethan.
Ethan knew how to take a hint. Obligingly, he said, “Molly, this is Beau. Beau, Molly.”
Setting their glasses down on the bar, she offered a limp hand. “Beau,” she murmured, eyes narrowing in thought. “Have we met?”
Beau gave her fingers a light squeeze and flashed one of his brilliant smiles. “Trust me, I would have remembered.”
Ethan stared at Molly, trying to silently convey that she could go now, but she ignored him. Then her eyes widened and she said, “Oh-h,” in a knowing tone. “Beau.” She winked at Ethan and returned to her other customers.
Mortified, Ethan stared at the wall. He could feel Beau's eyes on him and finally looked. Beau was smiling, his eyes bright with humor.
