by Willa Okati
On the one hand, Nick could see the sense in Barrett’s request. On the other, as if to answer his unspoken question, the branch thwacked their window and raked its tips against the glass.
“That really is going to send me around the bend,” Nick said with a grimace of apology. “We can plant a new one. You and me. We’ll take a trip out to a nursery when the weather’s good and warm again, and we’ll choose one we both like. Something with a decent fruit yield.”
Barrett looked like he wanted to protest, but after a moment’s tight-lipped frustration let out a sigh and settled back into the couch cushions. “Saws and axes are in the shed, yeah. I don’t know if they’ll help more than they’ll hurt.”
“Only one way to find out.” Nick bent to brush a kiss over the top of Barrett’s head.
Barrett—hesitated. Only for a second, barely enough to notice, but he did. He jerked in the clearest admission of guilt Nick had ever seen.
If he apologized, Nick swore he was going to punch something. Even if he might know, logically know, why Barrett kept pulling away—another one of nature’s little gifts to keep non-mates from starting wars over those who had a prior claim—that didn’t mean each little pause or wince didn’t hurt like a motherfucking nail shot through the hand.
He kept his temper reined in, barely, and pretended he hadn’t noticed. “It’s weird now, I know. I get that. But it’ll get better, Barrett. I promise.”
Barrett’s mouth turned up at one corner in a not-quite-smile. He uncurled his toes and pressed them against Nick’s knee. “I know,” he said. “I know. Just be careful.”
“Always. And I’ll be back before you know it.”
Barrett’s lips quirked. He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t catch Nick’s hand to kiss the knuckles the way he always had.
Didn’t even look like the thought occurred to him.
Damn.
* * * *
Nick tested the edge of his saw with dubious curiosity. George Washington might have chopped down a cherry tree—or not, depending on which urban myth you subscribed to—and Lizzie Borden might have vented her frustrations in style, but be damned if this old hunk of rust could do damage to anything tougher than butter. Should have taken it to be sharpened after the last time he’d tried splitting wood, or bought a new one, but then they’d put in the gas logs and it’d seemed moot.
Just went to show how you could never, ever know.
He stopped to stretch out his arms. He rolled his shoulders, tempted to strip off his jersey no matter whether the weather was too cold. Not much traffic ever came down their residential road. Too rural for one thing, and even on the weekends those who lived along the winding switchbacks tended to have a routine and stuck to it. Nick could have worked naked if he’d gotten the urge to strip off.
He looked up, curious, at the brief tap of a horn. The truck he didn’t recognize, but the man cranking down his passenger window and leaning out, he did.
“Nick,” Ivan called as the truck coasted to a stop. “What are you doing out of bed on a weekend?”
Nick snorted. “I could ask you the same thing. What brings you?”
“Wanted you to meet the new family one-on-one before you get thrown in the deep end tonight.” Ivan waved at the driver of the truck. “Can we park on the shoulder of the road?”
“Knock yourselves out.”
Ivan grinned as brightly as a July sunrise. “Good man.”
Nick blinked at him. He’d said as much to Barrett—and probably shouldn’t have—but Ivan really had changed, hadn’t he? He looked…younger. Lighter. More relaxed. He turned to say something Nick didn’t catch to the driver, and had his seatbelt off and the door open before Nick could do more than roll his sleeves down and snap the tie off his braid to let his hair fall around his shoulders and hide his mark.
He gathered his overlong sleeves into his palms and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops when Ivan would have come to give him a one-armed hug or a thump on the back. “God no, don’t get too close. I’ve been out here for at least an hour and a half and I stink.”
Ivan razzed him and reached out to tousle his hair. “Where’s Barrett?”
“Inside,” Nick said, and no more. He probably should have expanded, he realized. Normally he would have. Ivan teased him about never being able to shut up when it came to Barrett. To be quiet now? Mistake.
And Ivan noticed. He raised one eyebrow in a curious arch and seemed about to speak when the empty space at his side was filled by a man equally as tall, but sturdier and more solidly built.
Nick recognized Robbie from the glimpses he’d gotten across crowded rooms. Well, those and a few old photos Ivan didn’t know he’d snuck peeks at one night when he’d been curious, drunk and crashing on Ivan’s couch. He’d had no idea who Robbie was, then.
He took a careful grip on his sleeve and offered the man a fist-bump. He had sturdy, work-worn hands, rough from years of earning a living. “Nice to meet you properly.”
“And you,” Robbie said. Sweet mercy, he had a voice on him, dark like melted chocolate and a devil’s cut of well-aged bourbon. A surprisingly nice smile, too, slightly shy but almost cute for all that.
Nick eyed lanky Ivan, who might be all right in the face but never had learned to get his long limbs under control. “Does Ivan know how lucky he is?”
“Hey!” Ivan punched Nick lightly on the shoulder. “Although yeah, I do.”
Robbie wound an arm around Ivan, pretending playfully to hold him back, and brushed a kiss across Ivan’s cheek before he turned his attention to Nick. “Ivan’s told me a few stories. You’ve been a good friend to him when I wasn’t.”
Heat flashed through Nick’s cheeks. “Not that good,” he tried to demur. “Nothing anyone wouldn’t have done.”
“I didn’t,” Robbie said seriously.
Nick had an odd feeling Robbie didn’t usually ‘do’ anything besides sobriety fit to make a judge proud. Intense sort of guy. Strange to think he made Ivan look as if he were walking on air…
But that was soulmates for you, Nick supposed. He caught himself rubbing the back of his neck and shoved his hand in his pocket, fast.
Ivan gave Robbie a gentle nudge. “Don’t embarrass the guy. He’s gone as red as a tomato.”
“More like a rutabaga,” Robbie said, surprising Nick—and Ivan, too, from the delight in Ivan’s bark of laughter. So he had a sense of humor. Good. Ivan needed that. The more Nick studied the two, the more he could see how well they fit.
They really were true mates. The way he’d thought he and Barrett could… Nick cleared his throat, not having to try very hard to pretend gruffness. “Laugh it up. Wait until I get the chance to tease both of you for honeymooning.”
“I’ve earned it,” Ivan said, winding an arm around Robbie’s waist. “And I plan to keep on earning it, too.”
“If Ivan has his way, either I’ll be moving in with Ivan in a month or so, or he’ll be moving in with me,” Robbie said, shaking his head with wry amusement. “He’s been trying to convince me I’d love it in this neck of the woods. And I did want to meet his friends before tonight.”
“We’ve got steaks, bratwurst, chicken, all the good stuff,” Ivan said. He smacked his lips.
Sounded…not half as appetizing as it should, actually. “Want me to bring the beer?”
“Just bring yourself,” Robbie said. “But if beer decided to hitch a ride, we wouldn’t complain. Ivan’s taste in lager leaves a lot to be desired.”
“God, doesn’t it?” Forget unappetizing. Nick’s stomach twisted discontentedly. Under normal circumstances, he’d snap up the offer in a heartbeat. Ivan could damned near work magic with a mesquite grill, and Barrett usually had the time of his life chopping, dicing and plating. Trouble was, normal circumstances had flown out of the window. He hesitated, and it showed. “It’s just…”
Ivan secured his hold on Robbie and frowned. “You are coming, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Nick hedged
. “Barrett’s got some things going on. You know.”
“Uh-huh,” Ivan said slowly, clearly not buying it, and starting to worry. “Is he okay?”
“Who, Barrett? Fine. Good as ever. You know Barrett.”
“Uh-huh.” Ivan’s frown deepened. “It’s starting to sound like ‘okay’ isn’t so much part of the picture.”
“Or maybe they’d rather spend the weekend together,” Robbie put in. He brushed the back of his hand across Ivan’s chest, distracting him either deliberately or on purpose, but effectively. “From what you say, Abram usually has weekend plans anyway, and I can’t say I’d mind having a quiet night in with just you and me.”
All it took was one touch from Robbie, and even Nick could see Ivan had eyes and ears for no one else. “I want you to be happy here,” he said, not so quietly Nick couldn’t hear, but with an intimacy that made Nick feel like a voyeur. “And I don’t want to be rude.”
“Then don’t push him.” Robbie rested his palm over Ivan’s breastbone. He turned, glancing sideways at Nick. “No pressure. Take care of what you need to, and if there’s time left over, there’ll be steaks left over too. I think he bought enough for an entire football team.”
“Economy,” Ivan protested. “It’s always cheaper to buy in bulk.”
“Indulgence,” Robbie said. He took Ivan by the nape and pulled him in for a light but lingering kiss. “And I didn’t say I minded.”
Ivan appeared to be slightly dazed when Robbie let go. He rounded his shoulders and offered Nick a sheepish grin. “Let us know what you decide, okay?”
“Will do,” Nick said. “Go on. Enjoy the day together.”
He watched the pair of them wander back to the truck, never without touching for long. A hand here, a nudge of shoulders there, a glance and a smile. They didn’t finish each other’s sentences, but it seemed as if they read one another’s minds and had a whole unspoken language of gestures and micro-expressions.
They’d been made for one another, all right. Only whole now they were together. The Ivan he’d known before hadn’t been like that. He hadn’t seen it then. Now he did. And now that he had, he couldn’t imagine how empty Ivan’s life must have been with his soulmate in it.
He’d managed. He’d gotten by. But it hadn’t really been life, had it? More like a pale imitation. Just surviving.
It could be done. But maybe…it shouldn’t.
Nick touched the back of his neck, where the soulmark now seemed raised to the touch. His heart sank through his shoes.
It’s not going to work, is it? And the only one I’ve been fooling is myself.
Chapter Five
Barrett should have cleared away the coffee detritus. Any other day, he would have. Today, he meant to, but as he started to push himself up off the couch, he bumped the tablet computer and nearly knocked it to the floor. When he caught it, the jostling woke it up from sleep mode and reminded him of that one linked article he hadn’t quite finished reading.
Just the one, he promised himself as he powered the tablet fully to life, knowing exactly what people said about good intentions.
A little spilled coffee dried into rings on their table wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Still, he’d spent longer than he’d meant to—long enough for his feet to fall asleep tucked up beneath him—when a knock at the front door of the cottage startled him out of his reader’s fugue. Nick? He pricked his ears. No, couldn’t be. From the sounds of it, the rusty blade wrestling with the dry, dead old tree, he had a ways to go yet.
Who else? No idea, but the curiosity was enough to prod Barrett up to find out. Sort of. He stumbled over his numb feet and swore at the pins and needles as he made his way to the door. They still tingled like spitting sparks and icicles when he turned the knob. “Daniel,” he said, surprised.
Daniel looked, well, terrible. If he’d slept at all since last night, Barrett would eat Nick’s ax handle.
“Everything all right?” Barrett asked.
A ghost of a smile flickered across Daniel’s mouth. “Pretty far from it. Do you mind if I come in?”
“‘Course. You don’t need to ask.” Barrett stood back from the door to wave Daniel past him. “If you’ve got the time, I’ve got half a slow-cooker’s worth of fancy stew left over.”
“Not really hungry, but thanks all the same,” Daniel said. He moved slowly, almost like a sleepwalker. He nudged the door closed in the manner of an afterthought, and didn’t go farther into the house. He bent his head as he turned the latch. The back of his neck was bare. Smooth, sun-warmed, unmarked.
A breath Barrett hadn’t known he was holding eased out of him, followed by a strange taste in his mouth. It was a fear he hadn’t even dared to think to himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so glad, but if he had to lose Nick, he couldn’t have borne losing him to another friend.
“Okay,” he said, trying to cover before Daniel noticed and asked about his relief. “What can I do for you? Need more help with the wall?”
“Wall? No.” Daniel blinked but didn’t accomplish much in the way of focusing his eyes. “I did come about last night.”
“Right.” Since he didn’t sit, Barrett decided not to either. He propped himself against the wall and rotated his ankles one at a time to work out the last of the tingles. “Nick didn’t mean anything by asking, but he’ll apologize. And I will, too.”
“That’s not why I came.” Daniel blew out a long breath. “I want to explain, but that means I need to tell you the truth about my past. I should have done it a long time ago but I’m too used to keeping myself to myself.”
“You don’t have to—” Barrett started.
Daniel wasn’t easily dissuaded. “Maybe not, but I need to. Do you know what a Finder is?”
Barrett did, though he’d never met one in person. Used to be the big noise in older times, when people didn’t live so close together and finding one small soul in a great huge world was considerably trickier than running a web search or scanning identimark registries. Skilled Finders could match likely prospects, and they weren’t often wrong. Some people still swore by them.
“They don’t usually work with anyone younger than eighteen,” Daniel said. He leaned against the wall, facing Barrett, but his shoulders were rounded, his hands tucked under his arms and his frown engraved deep. “I lied through my teeth and used a Finder who’d set up shop online. They weren’t too happy with me when they figured out how old I was, but by then…”
Barrett cleared his throat as carefully as he could. “Did they find your Probable? Is that the word they use?”
“Mmm. They couldn’t be sure, not without the soulmark, but…ninety percent odds in favor sounded better to me than waiting years and never knowing.” Daniel grimaced at Barrett in half apology, half fellow-feeling. “And he’d signed up for the same service. I figured that was a sign.” He laughed, abrupt and rough. “The Finder said we deserved each other.”
“Did you meet?” Barrett asked, almost uncomfortable.
People didn’t talk about these things. Felt almost like peeking through his neighbor’s window and watching him jerk off. Daniel wouldn’t be telling if he didn’t have a reason, but Barrett could hope Daniel would get to the point.
“No,” Daniel said. “We never did. He was older than me. Seventeen, going on eighteen. I think he was horrified. Kids that age. Six years doesn’t seem like much at all now, but back then…” He shook his head. “His eighteenth birthday, I planned to surprise him.”
From the way he said that, Barrett doubted it’d been a happy surprise.
“When I got there, I found out he’d joined the Army.” Daniel made a flying gesture and a small whistle noise. “God, was I pissed. But he left a note for me. Told me to grow up, and he’d meet me after he’d done his tour.”
Barrett scratched lightly at the back of his neck. Was he having sympathy pains or what? Annoying. He tried to shake off the faint phantom tickle and pay attention. “And after?”
/>
“Missing in action,” Daniel said. “Presumed dead. That was the official word.”
And Barrett had thought Ivan had it rough. At least he’d known his Robbie was alive, even if he’d never said as much to anyone.
Daniel scoffed softly. “I wore a black ring for a while. Didn’t seem right to get a widower’s bead. I’d never so much as laid a finger on the man. And I thought…well. I thought that was it. Then last night I got a letter from someone who’d served in his platoon. I recognized the name. Jesse had mentioned him once, back in the day. Jesse. That was my mate’s name.”
“It’s a good name,” Barrett said in lieu of knowing what else could be said. He had a feeling Daniel’s story didn’t end there.
“I liked it, too,” Daniel said, distantly now. “Then, the package I got last night— I— there was a letter and a picture. They got the report wrong. Jesse had been in touch with him. He’s alive.” He touched the tip of his tongue to the bow of his lip. “He asked that friend not to let me know.”
Barrett winced. “Fuck, Daniel.”
“Anyway.” Daniel grimaced. “I didn’t have an appetite after that.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” Barrett’s own breakfast of coffee tossed a bit uneasily. “What are you going to do?”
“Go visit him?” Daniel raised one shoulder. “Find out for myself. I don’t have a soulmark tagging me for anyone else. I’d like to see if he does. Or if meeting him in the flesh might make a difference.” At Barrett’s frown, he explained, “It’s another of the old wives’ tales. You know how when soulmates are close by, one always seems to know where the other is?”
“Yeah, but that’s not a wives’ tale. I forget the word. Peripheral awareness failsafe?”
“Or whatever they’re calling it now. I don’t think that’s what it really is.”
“What do you think?” Barrett asked, curious despite himself.
“I think a soul knows when its mate is nearby.” Daniel held out his hand, palm up, as if he balanced his heart in that small cup. “Whether they’re orbiting, or whether they’re on a collision course, they know. When souls know they’ve found their missing pieces, they’re drawn together. Proximity. Nothing more than being near him might start the soulmark.” He closed his hand. “And if it doesn’t, at least I’ll know.”
