Dare to Hope
By Kara Nash & Caitlin Ricci
Dare: Book Two
Christophori Romanoff is an expert at being the perfect son for his homophobic father. But maintaining the facade comes with a heavy price, and when he swears off anonymous sex and getting drunk every night, he needs his friends more than ever. Only he’s convinced they’re busy with their own lives and better off without his interference. On the surface Chris is fine, but underneath the expensive suit and the law degree he got only to please his father, he’s breaking apart from the pressure, and he falls back on his oldest—and most dangerous—coping mechanism.
Samuel Mealamu hoped to hear from Chris soon after their last good-bye in Montana, but as the months go by without a word, he realizes what they started was one-sided. Still, he worries about the destructive path Chris was on and hopes the silence means he’s doing better. But nearly a year later, Chris finally calls, and it’s obvious he’s in trouble. Samuel thinks he’s seen Chris at his worst, but this new, far more broken man might be too much for even Samuel to help.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
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Chapter One
SAMUEL SHOT out his hand to grab his phone off the bedside table before the device even had time to ring properly. Being a light sleeper had its perks at times. In the dark the screen’s brightness almost blinded him, but not enough to keep him from seeing that the number was an overseas one—an American one if his memory served him right.
His heart sped up as he put it to his ear. “Hello, Samuel speaking.”
“Hey. So…. It’s Chris. And I just remembered it’s pretty late there. Shit. Sorry.”
Samuel sat straight up, leaning his bare back against the headboard of his bed. “Chris? Hey, how are you? Is everything okay?”
Chris laughed, but for some reason Samuel couldn’t quite name, it sounded a little off. Maybe eight months of not hearing Chris’s laugh, or even his voice for that matter, had begun to mess with his memories of the sounds.
“Of course things are okay. I’m good. Just hating winter here in New York, as usual. There’s snow everywhere, and the cabs can’t drive even half the speed limit because of it. I’ve been late to three meetings this week because of the traffic and accidents. We get snow every year, but it’s like people suddenly forget how to drive the second those flakes start to come down. It’s insanity. Tell me you have gorgeous weather or something. Please?”
“Actually, we do at the moment. It’s summer here, so maybe it’s time to make use of Bran’s kindness and come pay us a visit?” The idea of seeing Chris actually made him look forward to something, because settling into life back in New Zealand hadn’t been as easy as Samuel had thought it would be. Too much had happened to them all in Montana. New friendships were formed and lives changed, some dramatically, like Kaden’s, since he’d now hooked up permanently with Bran.
“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve got some time away from the firm, and I was hoping to come see you. If you’ll have me. But the catch is I don’t want Bran, or Kaden, or anyone else in New Zealand, except you of course, knowing I’m coming there. If you snitch it’ll be a lot longer than eight months before I decide to talk to you again.” His laugh was back, but it sounded even worse this time, almost desperate.
For Chris to hide something from his best friend was huge, because the two men were practically joined at the hip. How they had survived the last eight months without their cuddles and twisted passion for the game of truth or dare, Samuel would never know.
“Chris, keeping anything from Bran spells disaster. You know that, right?” Samuel would respect Chris’s wishes but had to at least try to get Chris to do right by his friend.
This time there was no laughter in Chris’s voice, only a hint at something painful that Samuel couldn’t even begin to guess at.
“I do know. He’s my best friend. His mate, as he’s taken to calling me since moving full-time down there on the other side of the fucking planet. But I need a little time with just you.” The brightness was back in his voice a second later, as if Chris had flipped a switch. “Gotta try to get into your pants again, this time without an audience. You know? So what do you say? Can I come visit you, or are you going to make me continue to freeze my ass off in this snow?”
It didn’t take a genius to know something was wrong, but Samuel played along. He had to until he had Chris where he could see him in the flesh and determine what the hell was up with the man. When it came to acting, Bran and Chris used to be masters at it, and Samuel knew pushing at anything over the phone would drive Chris away. And he didn’t want that, not when Chris had finally reached out to him for help. Yeah, the sexual innuendos were still there, but they were what Chris was hiding behind at the moment.
“Please? I’ll be good. I promise.”
A fist clenched around Samuel’s heart, and he went cold. Chris did not beg for anything, and this was Chris doing almost exactly that. Something was seriously wrong, but Samuel kept his voice calm, despite the sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“You? Be good? Ha-ha, but of course you can come and see me. Getting in my pants on the other hand, let’s just say, good luck with that.” It pained him to joke with Chris, but he had to keep things light or Chris would never board a plane to New Zealand.
“Yeah, we’ll see. So. Tomorrow work for you, then? I’m looking at a flight that gets me into Auckland at six, and I can take a cab to you if you text me your address. They are called cabs there, aren’t they?”
Samuel chuckled. “Nope, they’re called taxis, and you’ll do no such thing. I’ll pick you up at the airport. Fortunately I am the boss here, so I can take the milking off.”
Chris sighed loudly and sounded very much like he was getting frustrated. “Not gonna work. Please? I’ll take a taxi. It’s not a big deal. Just don’t fight me on this. I can’t argue with you right now. Not about a fucking taxi from the airport to wherever you live. Text me your address or just tell it to me now. I’m heading out to JFK. And remember, no telling Bran.”
The pleading in Chris’s voice stopped Samuel from arguing any further. “Okay, have you got a pen or online maps ready? Have a look at taking a shuttle from the airport to here, because it’ll be cheaper than a taxi.”
“Shuttle. Right. Pen. Go for it.”
Samuel gave the farm address to him, making sure he understood it was the driveway with the purple mailbox with the cow painted on it. “Think you can find it?”
“Purple box with a cow, pretty sure I still have my eyes and can spot it,” Chris said sarcastically but still playfully. “Thanks. See you tomorrow. Don’t bo
ther putting clothes on before I get there! They aren’t part of my plan!” Chris kissed him through the phone, then promptly hung up.
Like an idiot, Samuel lowered the phone and stared at it while still sitting in the dark. It was almost one in the morning, and he had a whole workday to get through before Chris would arrive in Auckland the next day. New Zealand was roughly seventeen to twenty hours ahead of the States, so Chris’s tomorrow would be the following day for them. Chris’s flight would take a good twenty-three hours or so, excluding any stopovers for the aircraft to refuel.
He placed his phone back down and lowered himself back onto his pillows. With his eyes closed, he tried to go back to sleep, but the effort was futile. His thoughts traveled back to their time spent working on Tobias Wilson’s farm in Montana for about two years before Bran and, by default, Chris stormed into their lives and changed almost everything. Kaden fell hard for Bran, a guy who made their blood boil for a long time with his selfishness and greed. In the end, however, and fortunately for Kaden, Bran redeemed himself by revealing he had a heart of flesh and blood after all.
The two lovebirds lived on the larger of Kaden’s two farms, about a twenty-minute drive away from where Samuel and Trent co-owned a large two-thousand-cow dairy farm stretching over seven hundred acres of Waikato country. They saw the other two men regularly when having meals together or when they went out for a night of drinks, fun, and dancing. Surprising all of them, Bran had easily adjusted to living in a rural town after the hectic lifestyle of Manhattan. Samuel had at the least expected Bran to have some withdrawal symptoms from the five-star lifestyle he used to have, but apparently Bran’s finances were still flourishing, even with him living on the other side of the globe.
On the downside, Samuel found it hard to hang around them for too long at times, to see the love, passion, and affection they shared, because Bran reminded Samuel of Chris so much, and a phantom ache started in his heart for a man he would probably never have.
Even the lighthearted, often absentminded Trent hadn’t walked away from Montana unscathed after laying eyes on Chris’s crazy, dark, ex-army half brother, Misha Romanoff. Forgetting he was lying down, Samuel tried to shake his head but didn’t quite succeed in the gesture. Trent needed all the bloody help he could get with that nutcase if they were ever to pick things up where they left off after saying good-bye in Montana. They were such opposites, and if it wasn’t so ludicrous to imagine the two together, Samuel would’ve found it totally hilarious.
Samuel would never again think of Montana as the green, flat, peaceful, crop-growing, blue-skyed land of promise, as they always described it on television or in movies. No way. To him Montana brought back memories of shitloads of drama, fighting, worrying, and confusion. Not to mention a healthy fear of truth or dare, but whether the fear came from the drama that unfolded during the stupid games or the raging hangovers the next day, he wasn’t quite sure.
Hell yes, they had heaps of fun too, but there had been so much heartache and self-destruction in the midst of it all. Mostly centered around Chris, and Samuel hated the moment Chris returned to Manhattan at his homophobic father’s command. Samuel hadn’t been sure Chris had been healed up physically or emotionally enough to deal with his controlling family, but Misha had left with Chris and promised to keep a close eye on him. Despite the latter, Samuel had been uneasy since then.
His thoughts returned to the unexpected phone call from Chris and the strange request for Samuel not to let anyone know Chris would be in New Zealand. He couldn’t help the dark sense of foreboding rising within him. For Chris not to want Bran to know he was in the same country or even the same town, only twenty minutes away from each other, was not only strange but a big deal on so many levels.
Not only would Bran feel betrayed, deceived, and hurt if he ever found out, which was bound to happen with them living in such a small community, but Samuel worried over the impact this would possibly have on their very special friendship. Furthermore, Samuel’s concern grew at the possible reasons why Chris would want to seek refuge with him, at his home, when his best friend lived almost down the road. What was so bad for Chris to want to hide away from the person who knew and loved him best?
From all he had heard tonight, spoken and unspoken, during their long distance call, Samuel concluded Chris was in trouble. What kind of trouble and the damage to Chris because of it, he couldn’t decide. Some time later, still without any easy answers for his questions, he fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter Two
THE TAXI dropped Chris off at a house that made his jaw drop. Yes, he knew Samuel lived on a farm and had prepared himself for a farmhouse similar to the one Bran’s grandfather had lived in back in Montana. Samuel’s house was anything but similar to the dwelling Chris had imagined.
The modern and yet rustic wood and glass house took his breath away, and all he could do was stare for a long time. The more he looked, the more he saw Samuel’s signature all over the materials and design. Samuel fit the house, or rather, the house fit the man perfectly, considering his native blood and ties to the land the Maori people called Aotearoa.
From what the online maps had told him, the closest town, Thames, would be only a fifteen-minute drive away. Looking around him, Chris found it hard to imagine civilization so close, because as far as he could see there were cows, paddocks, more cows, milking sheds, corn, and green. Plenty of green. If he hadn’t just been driven by taxi from the Auckland international airport to this breathtaking place, he would’ve found it hard to believe cities and towns were so close.
Slowly walking closer to the front of the house, he looked through one floor-to-ceiling glass panel facing the deck, through the open blinds he could see a man he was particularly familiar with sitting in the living room, watching TV.
He was only too happy to be out of the taxi. After nearly thirty hours spent between planes and airports, he wouldn’t feel anything like himself until he was able to get a shower and spend some one-on-one time with Samuel, but first he had to go up to his front door.
Chris pulled the shoulder strap of his duffle bag, the only luggage he’d brought with him, up a little farther on his shoulder before stepping closer to the front door. A glance at Samuel, sitting there with his back to Chris, told him that Samuel hadn’t noticed him there yet or heard the taxi arrive. He took the second he had and breathed deeply in a futile attempt to calm his nerves. He could do this, he knew. He was certain of it.
Looking at Samuel again, he saw that his time was up. The beautiful man, as dark as the creamy coffee he’d sipped to stay awake on the second plane ride over, was now standing up and looking straight at him through the window. Barely more than five feet separated them, after eight months of being apart. And the worst, most surprising part of it all was the way his body still reacted instantly to having Samuel around.
It was as if he couldn’t get enough of Samuel, like his body needed him, even if he had only kissed Samuel a few times. Ridiculous as it was to Chris, his palms were suddenly sweaty, and he couldn’t do anything about the stupid smile springing across his lips as Samuel opened the front door.
“Hi,” Samuel said.
Chris swallowed thickly, his words getting stuck somewhere between his racing heart and his brain, that had suddenly turned to mush. Samuel was still so perfect, and Chris had tried so hard not to think about him over the past eight months. It hadn’t worked, but his attempts at keeping his mouth shut and not bothering Samuel every time he happened to think about him had. He’d almost managed to last a year without having to run to Samuel for help. If he didn’t feel so absolutely fucking desperate, he might have actually been proud of himself for lasting as long as he had.
“Ready to come in?”
Nodding was the best Chris could come up with as he stepped into Samuel’s house. Chris felt like an idiot for thinking Samuel would live in a simple bachelor pad. The interior of the house consisted of more wood, and in the middle of it all sat a gorgeous open f
ireplace made of what appeared to be flat stones. To his right, an iron and timber staircase curved up to an upper level, but more than that Chris couldn’t see right now.
“Thanks for letting me visit,” Chris remembered to say as he stopped to remove his shoes beside the front door. Samuel’s hardwood floors looked recently mopped, and there was no way in hell he wanted to get them dirty from his shoes. There were far better ways to do that once he had Samuel naked.
“I was surprised to hear from you after so long.”
Samuel moved back a little when he came forward and out of the summer heat behind him. The door was closed, but some of the hot air had still followed him in, and it made Chris anxious to get his extra layers off. Winter had been in full force back in New York, and though he’d expected the warmer temperatures in New Zealand, it was still a shock to step off the plane and land right in the middle of summer.
Chris didn’t have a good reason for his silence over the months, at least not one he could share with Samuel, or anyone else for that matter. “Yeah, well, I’m here now. I may drop off the face of the planet, but you can’t get rid of me. Not really anyway.” He forced a smile, but Samuel didn’t look convinced. “Mind if I take a shower? I’m disgusting from traveling.”
“Sure. It’s upstairs. We’ll talk about why you’re really here when you’re done.”
Chris was sure Samuel wouldn’t be getting the answers he wanted out of him without a heavy negotiation. He wasn’t so eager to get thrown out of Samuel’s house already that he wouldn’t put up at least some fight. But with Samuel looking at him with so much worry in his eyes right then, Chris already felt himself wanting to open up and let him know it was all okay.
“Sounds great. See you soon,” he said with false cheerfulness as he pushed Samuel’s worry aside.
Being clean after his shower felt amazing, but he knew he couldn’t stay under the hot spray forever. Feeling like himself again, and not like some grimy airplane person, came with the usual clusterfuck of emotional baggage he’d become accustomed to. He hadn’t done anything to help himself in more than twenty-four hours, because he hadn’t had the time or the privacy while traveling, but now that he had a few minutes of quiet, while he could hear the TV going downstairs, he couldn’t help the intense need that rushed over him to release it all.
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