by Pandora Pine
Landon was busy making turkey sandwiches on whole wheat bread in the kitchen when Noble walked in, going straight for the fridge.
“Well?” Landon grinned.
Noble took a long slug from the bottle of water he’d just opened. “Well, what?”
“I photobombed your Skype session with Presley. What did he have to say about that?” Landon could feel butterflies rioting in his stomach. Even though he was only going to know Noble for the next two weeks, he was worried about what his friend thought of him.
“What makes you think Pres had anything to say at all?” Noble smirked.
Landon rolled his eyes. “Oh please! He’s one of your oldest friends. He must have had something to say about a strange man being here with you. I’m sure he was probably taking Skype pics when I sat down so he could email the still pictures to your other friends.”
Noble burst out laughing. “You may have a point there. I’m betting I’ll be getting nosy phone calls from Gregor and Griff any moment now.”
“What. Did. He. Say?” The suspense was literally killing Landon.
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Wordsmith.” Noble grinned at the shocked look on Landon’s face. “He thinks I’m fucking you.”
“Oh good! Nothing to worry about then.” Landon turned away from Noble grabbing the mayonnaise jar to put back in the fridge as a ploy so Noble wouldn’t see the aroused look in his eyes. At the mention of fucking each other, Landon’s cock had gone instantly hard.
“Why does it matter what my friends think of you? It’s not like they’re ever gonna meet you.”
Landon’s erection withered at Noble’s cold words. As much as it hurt hearing what Noble said, it was the truth. He’d be gone from here in a few days, back to his predictable, easy life on Plum Island. He’d gotten the new book off to a good start and his plan was to get back to it once they’d eaten lunch. Pushing Noble’s sandwich across the counter, he grabbed his own plate and headed for his makeshift desk.
“Chill, Landon. I was just fuckin’ with you. Presley said I looked happy. I am happy.” Noble followed behind him.
“I’m happy too,” Landon mumbled, setting his sandwich down near his laptop. He rubbed two fingers over the touchpad to wake it up.
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you?” Noble stalked up behind him.
Landon could feel Noble’s hot breath whispering across his neck. He shivered in response remembering the kiss they shared last night under the silver light of the full moon. “You heard me.” Landon sighed dramatically. “I said I was happy too.”
Noble chuckled, picking up Landon’s plate and headed toward the table where they sat for meals.
“Hey, that’s my lunch.” Landon finally turned around to look at Noble who was wearing a Cheshire cat grin.
“So come sit and have lunch with me. I want to talk to you about last night.” Noble took a huge bite of his sandwich.
Fuck, here it comes. Noble was going to tell him that their kiss had been nice, but that Landon wasn’t his type. Sighing, Landon took his usual seat, pinning Noble with his eyes.
“I haven’t kissed anyone since Vincent died,” Noble said, taking another huge bite.
Landon had no idea what to say to that. Should he thank Noble? Or just shut up and wait for him to continue. For once, he shut his mouth.
“I never thought I’d kiss another man or that another man would ever kiss me again.” Noble blew out a harsh breath. “It was, umm, nice.” Noble broke eye contact, raking a hand through the sunshine in his hair.
Their kisses had been more than just nice. They had been everything. “I never thought a man would ever kiss without wanting something in return.” Landon shrugged, taking a bite of his lunch. If Noble could be brave enough to share, he could be too.
Noble nodded. “I guess that makes us even, huh?”
“I guess it does.” Landon watched Noble polish off the rest of his sandwich, all the while waiting patiently for him to continue the strange conversation he’d started.
Noble didn’t say another word. He grabbed his empty plate and headed off toward the kitchen.
Landon got the impression that Noble feeling like he was on even ground was very important to him. What with his sobriety still in early days, it was easy to understand his need for that kind of control.
What Landon didn’t understand was how Noble felt about them kissing each other. He’d said it was nice, but Landon had a feeling that wasn’t the word he’d wanted to say, simply the first adjective that had come to his mind. With only eleven and a half days left here at Sand Dollar Shoal, Landon had some time to be patient and see what would happen next between them.
12
The deep, rich, amber liquid beckoned like a Siren’s song. Noble was sitting at the table in the hotel dining room staring into the depths of the still unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. He’d set his four month chip behind the bottle so he couldn’t see it.
In his mind, he could hear the crinkle the black plastic sealing wrap would make if he tore it off. Noble knew there would be a brief moment of resistance before the cap would turn in his fist. Then that first burning sip, soon followed by a second, then a third, until the bottle was empty.
He was a weak man. He could admit that, sitting here staring at the bottle like it was a lover. Need and desire pounded through his body, stronger than any sexual desire he’d ever felt in his life.
Picking up the bottle, Noble held it sideways, tilting it back and forth, making a sort of ocean wave out of the magic elixir. He never drank to forget Vincent and their life together cut tragically short. He drank to soften his own pain so he could remember Vincent without feeling as if his grief would crush him.
Lying his hand around the shrink wrap, Noble was about to twist it when Landon and Charlie came in from outside.
“Jesus, Noble!” Landon raced to the table, his snow boots leaving little mounds of melting snow mixed with sand in his wake.
“Go away, Landon.” Noble’s voice sounded cold and dead in his ears.
“Okay, I will.” Landon nodded. “Under one condition.”
Tightening his hold on the neck of the bottle, Noble’s lips curled into a snarl. “A condition? What are we, twelve?”
“Tell me why you want to drink and I’ll join you.” Landon pulled out the chair across from Noble.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Noble never took his eyes off the amber liquid swirling around the clear glass.
“Do what exactly?” Landon’s voice was calm.
“Fight against the undercurrent.” Noble’s voice sounded worn out, even to his own ears.
Landon leaned forward in his seat, looking ready to listen. “Fight mentally or physically?”
“What does it matter?” Nothing much mattered at the moment other than taking that first burning sip.
“It matters a lot. Your answer is gonna help me figure a way out of this, Noble.”
Noble snorted. “This isn’t one of your plotlines, Wordsmith. Your dashing Marcus Pike isn’t going to burst in to save the day at the last possible moment. That shit only happens in fiction.”
“True.” Landon shook his head. “Now answer my question. Do you need to drink mentally or physically?”
“Mentally. You have no fucking idea how hard this is. No fucking idea at all.” Noble practically spat the words at his friend.
“I’d disagree with you there, Landon.”
Noble snorted. “What? You gonna compare this to not having chocolate for a few days?”
Landon laughed, the sound echoing through the nearly empty hotel. “I spent ten years of my life watching my mother drink. She didn’t care if I was fed or clean or if I went to school. She didn’t care if either one of us lived or died. So yeah, I do have a fucking idea how hard it is.” He stood up and walked around to the other side of the table. “The only person who can put the bottle down is you, Noble. I’m not gonna stand here and preach platitudes at you.”
“What are
you going to do?” For the first time, Noble managed to pull his eyes away from the allure of the booze to light on Landon’s hazel eyes, which were unreadable at the moment.
“Come for a walk with me.” Landon held his right hand out to Noble. “The snow on the beach is gone. I bet the storm tossed up a lot of treasures for us to find.”
Landon’s reaction wasn’t what Noble expected. He’d thought his guest would try to wrestle the bottle away from him or get down on his knees and plead with Noble to put the bottle down before he could take a sip. Those were exactly the things Griff, Gregor and Pres would have done to stop him. His father, on the other hand, would have tried good old-fashioned guilt.
“It’s only 9am, Noble. There are still fifteen hours left in today for you to find a reason not to open that bottle.” Landon stuck his hand out further. “Charlie! Walkies!”
Noble heard the puppy bark and the clatter of her nails on the wood floor as she ran into the dining room. Charlie skidded to a stop in front of Noble. “Trying to guilt me into putting the bottle down by using my dog?”
Landon shook his head. “No. I changed my mind. I don’t want to sit here and watch you drink after all. I figured Charlie wouldn’t want to see it either.” Landon turned, heading toward the French doors. Charlie whined, but followed after him.
Noble sat, bottle in hand, watching them go.
XX
Landon was going to throw up. He could feel the oatmeal he’d eaten threatening to revolt on him. Bending over, he braced his hands on his knees and tried to take a few deep breaths. The temperatures had warmed into the low twenties, but each breath still felt like his lungs were filled with broken glass.
It had been a huge risk leaving Noble alone and vulnerable with the bottle of Jack Daniels clutched in his hand. He could only hope his stubborn friend could fight the good fight long enough to put the bottle down and walk the twenty or so feet from the table to the doors leading outside.
He’s spent years watching his mother drink her life away, all the while trying to come up with clever ways to get her to stop drinking and rejoin the land of the living. Nothing he’d ever tried had been successful. In the end, the only weapon left in his arsenal had been to ignore the problem. At that point in time, he honestly couldn’t give two fucks if his mother drank herself to death or not.
Noble was a different story. He’d sunk to the depths during the course of his addiction, but had been strong enough to pull himself back to the surface and swim to shore. He could only pray that Noble could dig deep within himself for the strength it would take for him to put the bottle down.
As if his prayer had been heard, Landon heard the French doors open. Turning back to the hotel, he saw Noble step outside, shutting the doors behind him. Charlie barked and took off running for him.
“Thank you, Jesus.” Landon mumbled, turning back to the ocean so Noble wouldn’t see the tears pricking his eyes. He’d never felt happier in his entire life than he did in this moment.
“Here.” Noble was holding out a gallon sized Ziploc bag toward him. “I’ll start at this end of the beach.” Noble pointed to his left.
Taking the bag, Landon nodded. “Yeah.” He watched while Noble started down the beach. “Noble?” He didn’t want to ask the question, but he had to know. Noble hadn’t gotten close enough for him to smell his breath.
Noble stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. “Still unopened. Now get a move on, tide’s coming in.”
Landon nodded, which was ridiculous since Noble couldn’t see him. Not knowing what else to say, he turned and headed in the opposite direction from Noble.
As he walked, he saw mostly broken razor clams and sand dollars. Landon stopped and picked one up, running his finger over the raised flower pattern. “Shame.” Sadness swirled through his body at the sight of all the broken things on the beach.
Oh well, he supposed he could take the broken shells, torn apart lobster traps and shattered shards of driftwood so long as the most important man in his life was still whole.
Most important man in his life? Why bother denying it? It had only been four days, but Noble was the best friend he’d ever had in his life. It didn’t hurt that the man could kiss like a bronzed god either. Snorting, Landon turned around to see Noble walking toward him, his treasure bag empty.
“Hey.” Noble stopped a few feet in front of Landon, not making eye contact. “I thought it would be more fun if we discovered things together.”
Landon smiled, his heart soaring. Tucking the plastic bag into the back pocket of his jeans, he reached for Noble’s face. It was cold, his two-day beard scratching against the palms of his hands. He tilted Noble’s face up. He could see shame burning in Noble’s dull eyes. “Hey there, handsome.”
Noble snorted, shaking his head as far as Landon’s hands would allow. “I’m a world-class douche monkey.”
Landon burst out laughing. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“If the shoe fits.” Noble shrugged taking a step closer to Landon. “Thank you, I…”
Landon pulled Noble into his arms, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, he held on tight. “You’re stronger than you know, Noble. I wish I could be half as strong.”
“You are. You’re the one who stopped me. You saved me.” Noble’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“You saved yourself.” Landon shut his eyes and rested his head against Noble’s chest, more thankful than he’d ever felt in his life.
13
It had started snowing again when Noble dragged Landon back to the hotel. He was starving and knew Landon must be too. He shucked out of his heavy coat and hat, setting them both to dry in front of the fire. Landon had stayed outside to gather some firewood, which was stacked under the back deck of the hotel where it was safe from the blowing snow.
Noble was grateful for the extra few minutes alone. He still didn’t know what the hell had triggered his meltdown earlier this morning. Outwardly, there was nothing wrong with his life.
He’d had a great chat yesterday with Presley. His father would be here in the morning to help work on the exterior of the hotel. Charlie was the greatest joy in his life and he and Landon had agreed that kissing each other had been nice.
Snorting, Noble went to the cabinet to grab a can of tuna. Kissing Landon had been more than nice. It had been like the Fourth of July, with fireworks shooting off in his brain and nearly in his pants as well.
With all of those things going so well for him, what the fuck had possessed him to pick up that bottle?
“I brought in enough wood to last for a few days,” Landon said from behind him.
“Thanks.” Noble turned around to look at Landon, whose face was pink from the cold. “Have you weighed yourself lately?”
Landon rolled his eyes, obviously not wanting to discuss his weight.
“No! I’m serious. You look thinner.” Noble set down the can and walked up to Landon. “It makes sense since I’ve been working you like a dog these last few days with all the shoveling and bringing in firewood.”
Landon shrugged. “My jeans felt a bit looser this morning, but I figured it was because I hadn’t washed them in a week.”
“I think it’s because you’ve literally worked your ass off.” Noble wanted to reach out to Landon, slip his hands under his Red Sox hoodie and run his fingers up Landon’s skin, but held back. He was still feeling a bit off-balance about what had happened this morning.
“I guess. You want me to make a salad to go with the sandwiches?” Landon was obviously trying to change the subject.
“Sure.” Noble said absently, his mind still turning over the near end to his sobriety. “Why do you think I almost fell off the wagon this morning?”
Landon sucked in a harsh breath, but seemed to be thinking about his answer. “You said that Griffin told you everything leading up to the hotel’s grand re-opening depended on you. You’re here alone trying to renovate thirty-six guest rooms and all the common areas of the
hotel. Over a foot of snow fell, which kept you busy day and night and away from the renovations. Oh, and you got an uninvited guest showing up on your doorstep. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty stressful to me.”
Noble snickered, bracing his hands on the stainless steel counter. “I never thought about it like that. I was just trying to power through it all.”
“I hear you.” Landon walked over to Noble, grabbing both of his hands. “I know this doesn’t even come close to what you’re going through, but part of the reason I’m as heavy as I am is because I ate my frustration and stress over not being able to write this book.”
Shaking his head, Noble squeezed their joined hands. “I’m sorry that I told you that there was no way you understood what I was going through.”Noble cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I said that shit about you and chocolate too. I was just looking to lash out and you were the only one here I could lash out at. I’m a total butt-munch. Can you forgive me for that low blow?”
“Of course I can. You forgave me for being a total dick, didn’t you?”
Noble nodded.
“Good. Let’s hurry up and eat lunch. Marcus Pike is starting to talk.”
“Go listen! I’ll make lunch and leave the plate next to you.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to think I’m not pulling my weight around here.”
“Go! Now!” Noble grinned, pointing toward the kitchen door.
Saluting, Landon obeyed.
XX
Once Landon had started listening to Marcus Pike, he hadn’t stopped typing until it was almost time to go to bed. Not only had Noble left him a sandwich for lunch, he’d also left an apple sometime in the middle of the afternoon and a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of chicken noodle soup later in the evening.
No one had ever done anything like that for him before. Not having his train of thought derailed because his stomach was growling was worth its weight in gold. He was nearly halfway to the one hundred page goal his agent had demanded he meet.
Now that Marcus Pike wasn’t insistently whispering to him, he could think about what had happened with Noble today. Landon was one of those people stress seemed to creep up on. It was always slow to build with warning signs along the way. Usually Landon ignored the warning signs and was along for the ride when the inevitable crash came. It seemed Noble was just the opposite.
