by Willa Okati
* * * *
Robbie dealt Cade a brotherly slap to the ankles he’d crossed on the tabletop. Cade wrinkled his nose and otherwise ignored the warning to sit up straight. “He looked different than I remember,” he said. “Did he look different to you?”
The impulse to ask—who?—took some effort to repress, but Robbie wasn’t that kind of man. Usually. “A little. He got older. People do.”
“I guess,” Cade said. He’d shed his bad temper in that easy way of his, the one Robbie always wished he had a knack for. Both he and Ivan, they could nurse a grudge until Gabriel blew his trumpet. Even the little stings didn’t seem to fade.
Cade wouldn’t give up until Robbie asked him what he meant. “Your point being?”
“Not sure.” Cade waggled his foot in a one-two cadence. “Nathaniel almost didn’t remember him. Weird.”
“Nathaniel was barely a baby. I’m not surprised. I’m more surprised you remember him well enough to tell any kind of difference.” Robbie’s sleeve had started to dry stiffly, the wool scratchy, and he did indeed smell like a brewery. He’d packed a spare sweatshirt that he’d meant to sleep in, and he could change, but God help him if he could be bothered. He picked at the rough cloth instead, trying to worry it smooth again, and laughed softly in spite of himself. “I remember he used to trick you into doing chores.”
“Ugh, he did. Bastard.” Cade rolled his eyes as elaborately as a teenager. “I don’t even know how he did it. Still. He just made it seem like a good idea. Like it was my idea.”
“He had a knack for that. I didn’t ask questions. I was too glad to see you take out the trash and do your laundry before your gym clothes disintegrated.” Robbie grinned when Cade laughed. “Can’t help noticing you stopped thinking it was a good idea after he left.”
Cade snorted. “I really didn’t recognize him at first. Not when I saw you two. I just thought you were finally getting some. Then I remembered his face. Ugh.” He wriggled his shoulders. “Talking about my brother having sex makes me feel like I need to take a shower inside my skin. Where did you two go for your honeymoon? I can’t recall you taking off for one.”
“Feel free to drop the subject any time,” Robbie said, dry as old bones. “You don’t remember a honeymoon because it didn’t happen. We’re not married. We never got that far.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not about to answer that if you don’t want to be here all night.”
Cade wasn’t listening, already moved on to the next thought to flit through his hummingbird mind. “I can’t help wondering, is all. What’s he even do for a living?”
“Cop,” Robbie said briefly, warning Cade with his tone not to push it. He’d wondered the same sorts of things himself, a time or ten. What Ivan’s life was like. Was he happy? Did he remember that while he liked chili peppers, they didn’t like him? Did he get colds in the winter like he used to?
Did he ever arrest a man for fixing a stolen car? Robbie remembered that meeting all too well. The look on Ivan’s face when Robbie had refused to be ashamed…
He’d done what was necessary to take care of his family. He had no regrets about that part of it, not even now.
Robbie gave up picking at his sleeve and stood with a tired stretch. “Or at least he was getting a degree in criminal justice, the last I knew.”
“He looked like a cop,” Cade said, frowning again now. “Cop eyes, you know? You can tell ‘em a mile off. I remember that from when I was a kid.”
“As many times as you got in trouble? You should.”
“Past tense. Ancient history.” Cade crossed his arms behind his head and frowned at Robbie, serious for once. “What would have happened if I hadn’t come in swinging?”
Robbie gave him a long, flat look. “Do you really want an answer to that?”
“That’s not what I meant. But I guess it is an answer, just the same.” Cade fidgeted and looked away. “Maybe I overreacted.”
“Fine time to change your mind about it now, Mr Right Hook.”
“Mr Uppercut,” Cade corrected. He still wouldn’t look at Robbie. “Maybe you need to get it out of your system.”
“Soulmates are not viruses. You can’t purge them.”
“How do you know?”
Robbie rolled his eyes.
“So…” Cade said, drawing out the word. “What now?”
Robbie sighed, finger-combing his beard. “For a start, I don’t think we’re going to stay here tonight after all.”
Cade shrugged as if to say it’s your life and jumped out of his seat, clearly ready for action. God bless the young. “I’ll go let Nathaniel know what’s up. Do you know where he went?”
“Ice machine, I think.” Robbie dug in his pocket for the spare keycard, and to check his wallet. Maybe they could get a refund for the room. He hoped so. Some silver lining to the night, at least. “Tell him I’m sorry. We’ll get back home, and we’ll figure out what happens next.”
Maybe nothing happened next. Probably nothing. If they were lucky, Ivan would disappear as soon as the game ended, and they could all get back to the lives currently in progress.
Or not. Robbie rubbed at his soulmark. He could still feel the ghost of Ivan’s lips on his skin, and he knew what he wanted. What he burned for. How hard it was not to break down the damned door and be the one to go in search this time. Track him down and pin him to the floor and take what he’d been starving to taste for years.
He’d changed. But he couldn’t trust that Ivan had. And he knew he couldn’t trust himself to make the right choices. All the more reason to head back home now. It might not be what he wanted, or what he needed, but it was what he had, and if nothing else in his life, he’d learned how to make do.
Better for everyone this way. Because if he let himself think about it, he’d admit that for once the stars had aligned just so, and Cade had come up with a good idea. Or—if not a good idea, then one that tempted Robbie almost past his limits.
And what would happen then…he didn’t know.
* * * *
Ivan walked down the short, thickly carpeted corridor alone, all the way to the ice machine tucked in a discreetly recessed alcove. He stuck the bucket under the dispenser, pulled the lever and waited for the cubes to nearly reach the top before he spoke to the small, thin young man waiting patiently beside the machine. “You used to follow me around just like this when you were a little kid. Do you remember?”
“I’d forgotten until tonight,” Nathaniel said. He didn’t seem to mind getting caught. If Ivan looked hard and close, he could still see the boy he’d known in the man Nathaniel had become. “But I’ve been trying to remember.”
“You always were the smart one.”
“That’s what Robbie says. I don’t think he gives either himself or you enough credit.”
“He never did.” Ivan clanked the lid on the ice bucket and gave it a turn to seal it shut. He propped himself on the corner of the machine, giving himself something to lean on and a vantage point to watch Nathaniel at the same time. “Did he send you?”
Nathaniel scoffed. “You know Robbie. He wouldn’t even think of it.”
No, he wouldn’t. Some things didn’t change. “Then why are you here? I do have another cheek I could turn if you want to take a shot. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Not really my style.” Nathaniel had an ice bucket with him, but he didn’t seem particularly interested in doing anything with it besides holding on to it. Ivan let him take his time. He’d never really been sure what kinds of thoughts went through Nathaniel’s head, even when he was a tagalong kid dogging his steps. He had no idea what Nathaniel thought of him now, come to that. “I can’t remember if this is true or not—did you two meet when you had to arrest Robbie?”
“I didn’t arrest him. Too young for that. I was doing a ride-along for a term paper, freshman year.” Ivan grimaced. “The cop I was doing the ride-along with, on the other hand, yeah. That guy arrested him.”
; “But you are a cop now,” Nathaniel said, watching Ivan not exactly narrowly, but not far off the mark.
“Detective with the city police,” Ivan said. He wasn’t and wouldn’t be ashamed of that, no matter what it might cost, and he let Nathaniel see as much in the way he squared his shoulders and held his head up. “My family’s all law enforcement of one kind or another.”
Nathaniel hummed quietly, and seemed—maybe—to let that drop. Ivan wasn’t counting on it. “May I ask you a question?”
“See?” Ivan cracked, trying to lighten the mood whether that was a good idea or not. “Smart.”
“It only takes once being told you’ve already asked a question before you drop the ‘can’.” Nathaniel wouldn’t be swerved. Smart kid indeed. Maybe not technically a kid, okay, but Ivan couldn’t help seeing him as young. “I’m going to call that a ‘yes’, by the way, because you always did answer questions.”
Ivan nodded once, curious but still willing to wait.
“Robbie is…” Nathaniel started. He stopped, frowning, then began again. “I was too young to really know what was going on. Whenever I thought about it at all, I thought Robbie was a widower.”
Ouch. Ivan couldn’t help wincing.
Nathaniel didn’t offer fake sympathy, though. Credit to him for that. “Because he was sad. Whenever someone brought up soulmates, he’d get this faraway look on his face like it hurt him to think about it. He never spoke about you.” Nathaniel took a breath and rattled on, picking up speed. “But then I remembered something else. It’s what Robbie doesn’t say that you have to listen to. The things he keeps to himself are the ones that matter most.”
“I remember that, myself,” Ivan said. He hadn’t thought about it in years, but looking at Nathaniel, he was reminded of how much he’d hated the idea of not being around to see Robbie’s brothers grow up. He’d done a good job with them. “I’ve missed him. Always, in the back of my mind, or the front. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and get confused because he wasn’t there.”
“He did, too,” Nathaniel said, as if to himself, or as if lost in thought. He pressed his index fingers to his lips. “He never said so, but he did, all the same. I never asked because I never wanted to make him sad. Maybe I should have.”
Ivan raised his shoulders. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why are you telling me this? Not that it isn’t nice to know one of the brothers doesn’t hate me, but—”
“I never said that,” Nathaniel said, but with a tiny flicker of humor in his amber eyes.
They were beautiful eyes, Ivan noted. Robbie would have to play junkyard dog and beat them off with a stick once Nathaniel started looking for a partner, wouldn’t he?
“But I am saying I know my brother,” Nathaniel continued. “Maybe a little better than he knows himself, and it doesn’t matter what I think or how I feel. I want to see him happy. Whatever it takes to make that happen.”
Ivan frowned and shifted his weight. “I took a knock to the head tonight. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if I know my big brother—and I do—then right about now he’s loading up the overnight bag he never unpacked, and next he’ll be heading for the exit,” Nathaniel said with a small, impatient huff. “You’re thick sometimes, aren’t you?”
“Little bit,” Ivan said. His mouth had gone dry. “He’s leaving?”
“If you don’t hurry up and catch him? Yes.”
There were certain moments in life where thinking went out of the window, and action took over. Ivan didn’t stick around to ask Nathaniel if he meant it—he knew better. And he knew Robbie, or Robbie as he used to be, and while some things might change, others never would.
“Don’t tell him I told you!” Nathaniel called after him. He sounded neither encouraging nor discouraging, but Ivan would take what he could get.
He had no idea what he was doing, no more than he had when he was a teenager and stupidly in love, but at least he’d made a start.
Chapter Four
Robbie waited in line between a set of velvet ropes leading to the lodge’s reservation desk. Crowded tonight, though he might have guessed they would be, jam-packed with people who’d decided they didn’t really feel like driving home after all. Too hopped up on beer and excitement. As he’d thought he would be. As he was, though for different reasons than he’d intended.
He rubbed his knuckles over his chest, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop for hours. Days, maybe. Or longer. The part of the human mind that made soulbonding an imperative had figured out he didn’t mean to finish the job, and it wasn’t pleased. It shouted at him, demanding he stop, turn around, go back now to find Ivan and stake his claim.
Robbie blocked his ears to the demands of his body and faced forward, jaw set. If anyone noticed his fingers working at his chest—and he got a few odd looks—no one asked.
Relief tasted sharp and sweet when his phone buzzed from its resting place in his hip pocket and he had to fish the case out. A text from Cade. He’d found Nathaniel, but he’d also found a few friends from high school. Friends who had even more beer, Robbie would guess, but they were all over twenty-one and Cade promised to return Nathaniel in one piece.
Robbie hesitated before texting back a simple OK. Nathaniel had enough sense to watch his step, and anyone who dared tangle with his brothers would find themselves visited by the wrath of Eldest Gruff later on.
Eldest Gruff. He hadn’t thought of that nickname in a long, long time. Robbie’s lips quirked despite himself. Ivan used to call him that whenever he was in a particularly grim mood. Used to tease him, and sometimes even tickle his sides.
They’d ended up in bed more often than not, and he’d forgotten to take life seriously once he was there.
Funny what a man remembered, and forgot, and learned again.
The line edged forward a few steps. Robbie barely noticed, though he shuffled obligingly with the rest of the crowd. He’d focused on the cloud storage app on his phone. Not a photographer, him. He tended to shuffle the contents of one card after another in there and forget they ever existed. Did he have any pictures of Ivan? He thought—though he wasn’t sure—the cloud storage might predate their breakup.
Not smart to look, Robbie knew. He did it anyway, one stroke of his thumb bringing up the dated folders that went all the way back to…
There you are.
Ivan had changed, but no more than Robbie himself. The smile, a little amazed now, crept back to soften the set of Robbie’s lips. Look at us. Ivan was nearly skinny, his shoulders far narrower and his legs impossibly long and lanky. As for Robbie, he’d almost forgotten how angular his nose and chin truly were without the beard to soften them.
Once, Ivan had wheedled him into an old-fashioned shave with warm water and a froth of glycerin soap. He’d stood between Robbie’s legs, Robbie steadying him with hands balanced at Ivan’s waist, and closed his eyes as Ivan worked the razor over his cheeks and chin without one slip. He’d drawn his thumbs along Robbie’s cheekbones when he’d finished, smooth skin whispering beneath his touch, and pressed his forehead against Robbie’s when he was done.
Robbie had never gone to his knees faster or with more intent in his life. Ivan’s soap-slick hands had made a mess of his hair, and he hadn’t cared a bit back then. Not a morsel.
“Sir?” The speaker cleared their throat. “Sir, can I help you?”
Robbie blinked out of the cloud of memory that had swallowed him, his cheeks going hotter still with embarrassment. When he hadn’t been looking, the line had snaked forward to land him at the head. From the look on the lodge employee’s face, this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention.
“I…” He started, and dropped his phone. Blushing fiercely now, he dropped into a crouch to rescue the device before someone could step on it. It’d be his luck.
And so, at the head on the line and on his knees, he saw Ivan before Ivan could spot him.
He wasn’t alone. Lots of people turned to cock t
heir heads at Ivan, who’d come charging in as if running a footrace. He’d put on a fresh shirt, but gotten at least two buttons in the wrong holes. Robbie’s fingers itched to fix them. He’d pressed the side of his fist to his chest without looking. He swept the room with a wild gaze, obviously searching for—
For me. The next person in line made an impatient noise and stepped past him. Robbie let them go without making a fuss. He stayed put, heart thudding coppery-hot in his throat. Ivan looked realer than real, and larger than life, though Robbie knew no one else but him would see it that way. It was the pull and the call of the soulmark that made Ivan look like the only living person in a roomful of ghosts.
Robbie licked his lips slowly, his breath shallow. He’d been surprised, once upon a time, by the intensity of the bond. With the way it made him ache even when all he did was look. He could feel the brush of Ivan’s skin in his empty hands, and the phantom sense of gravity pulling at him made him lose his balance.
He caught himself, and looked up. At Ivan. Who looked down at him, one hand out to help Robbie up.
Robbie knew not to take the offer, but he did it anyway. Couldn’t have stopped himself. It was all he could manage to nod roughly to one side. Ivan took the silent demand in his stride—but didn’t let go of Robbie, not even when they’d put enough space between themselves and the reservations desk. People were looking at them, curious in spite of custom. Everyone loved a love story.
His lips were so dry, his throat parched. Ivan started to speak, then cut himself off and shook his head, a helpless I have no idea conveyed in the rueful bow of his lips. He cupped Robbie’s face and brushed his thumb over Robbie’s lips, the cinnamon-gum scent of his breath warm against Robbie’s jaw.
Robbie knew better. Oh, he did. He knew.
And yet he lingered, caught by the dancing light and steady-burning flame in the black depths of Ivan’s wide pupils. Ivan’s hand, still so light on his face, was as cool as freshly fallen snow.
