by Willa Okati
But it wasn’t until he cast his gaze seemingly idly over the crowd and noticed Nathaniel—sent one of those careless smiles at him —that Nathaniel understood why the man had drawn him.
Oh.
Nathaniel laid a hand over his heart, his answering smile falling away from his lips in surprise. It didn’t take too long for it to return, though, and it felt as if it wreathed his face in delight. Oh, hello. We’ve never met, but I know you.
You’re my soulmate.
* * * *
“Earth to Abram.” Nick snapped his fingers at Abram as the gates opened. When Abram didn’t respond right away, he earned the man’s concern. Oops. “Are you all right?” Nick asked.
“Hmm?” Abram frowned at where the small slip of a man with the amazing brown eyes had disappeared when the crowds had started to move.
Absently, absently, he rubbed at his shoulder.
“Abram.” Nick nudged him harder, angling for a look up at him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything okay?”
“What? Oh. No, no, sorry. I’m fine.” Abram rolled his shoulders and shook off the odd sensation of phantom fingertips brushing across his skin. How…odd. Cute, though. “Déjà vu. It’s nothing. Are we ready to go?”
Chapter Two
After the game
And so there you have it. After ten years apart, Robbie and Ivan had found one another again—and at a football game, of all the places.
To tell the truth, it’d gone better than Nathaniel would have imagined. He’d never thought about it much, and shame on him, but he might have expected more thunder and lightning. If the worst that happened was Cade bruising his knuckles on Ivan’s jaw with a sneaky haymaker punch, and Robbie found happiness again with his soulmate, Nathaniel wouldn’t have to think too long and hard over whether the result was worth the cost.
If he knew his oldest brother—and he did—Nathaniel doubted he’d see hide nor hair from Robbie until the next morning—at the very least. He could have gone back to the room, but…
Nathaniel had learned to trust the quiet inner directions of his instincts, and they were telling him to find a nest where he could watch the hotel and settle in—as if he were waiting for someone to come and find him.
Maybe he was.
And it could be that this was a good omen, when all was said and done. Robbie finding his Ivan on the night Nathaniel met his soulmate. There was a sort of synchronicity there that Nathaniel appreciated as he chose the sleek, padded bench that he best liked the looks of, nestled in a nook beside a restaurant full of good smells.
As he sat, his phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Found a party. Want to tag along? — Cade
Nathaniel clicked his tongue. He hadn’t worried about Cade keeping himself occupied tonight—and for good reason. Cade could tumble down three flights of stairs and land headfirst in a pool of free beer. High-quality stuff, too. Ordinarily, Nathaniel would say yes to the invitation, but tonight…
His fingers flew over the keys.
Not this time. But if Robbie asks, tell him I said yes. — Nathaniel
Oh-ho. Found something better to do? — Cade
Or someone, Nathaniel thought, pleased. Well, he hoped. Surely his soulmate would feel the pull and come to him. That was how it worked. But he didn’t dare let Cade know. He’d forget the party and come around to interrogate Nathaniel’s soulmate, and that wouldn’t do.
Reading. — Nathaniel
It was the truth, as far as it went. He had an eBook app on his phone to while away the time and a new sci-fi novella waiting to be read.
God, you’re boring. Find something more exciting! Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. — Cade
So roughly translated, that means I can do anything I like? — Nathaniel
Smart-ass. — Cade
Nathaniel kept his amusement quiet as he tucked his phone away. Cade was and ever would be purely Cade. It was good to know some things could be counted upon never to change.
Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel settled in to wait. Boring? He wouldn’t have said so. More like domesticated. A lap cat. Most nights found him curled up on the couch, nestled into his favorite plaid blanket, drinking tea. He liked those things. But this wasn’t so bad, really. No, this would do.
Until his soulmate came for him, that was.
* * * *
And that, as they say, is that.
Abram tucked his hands in his pockets and shook his head at the lodge’s check-in, now very much empty of Ivan and his new-old soulmate. It didn’t take a genius to guess where they were headed, and without a single thought for where Abram and Nick would lay their heads. Ah well. Hormones ruled the day when it came to finding a mate. Abram remembered that well enough from his time with Callum. He’d exact some payback, sure—but later.
God, Callum would have laughed himself sick over this. He loved the drama of humanity. Sometimes Abram liked to imagine he could hear Callum’s half of any given conversation. If he closed his eyes, it was too easy to pretend Callum was there with him, commenting dryly, “Lord, what fools these mortals be.”
Nick still looked confused. “What’s going on?”
Abram wondered when Nick would notice he’d lost the wristband he affected, pretending to have a mark to cover. Poor bastard. Ignorance of the chemistry between soulmates who’d been parted for a while was perhaps the sharpest clue possible to the fact that he and Barrett were only claiming to have a bond. Wishful thinking would only get them so far. He worried for them. “Let’s say I think that’s the last we’ll see of our estimable leader until…oh…tomorrow morning, at least.”
The penny finally dropped. “Son of a bitch,” Nick grumbled. He raked his hair back where it had escaped from its customary ponytail, bare wrist on prominent display. God help the kid. “Fine, then. I’m going to bed—no, wait. Did he take the room key?”
“You’re off your game, if you didn’t notice,” Abram remarked. “Barrett must be wearing you out.” While they might not be the soulmates they claimed to be, they did love each other. Wholeheartedly. Maybe fate would be kind to them, in the end. Abram only hoped so.
“Funny man.”
“Not really. It’s more that I’ve been there and done that, most of the time. Callum used to make it a personal mission to have me earn my rest. Well, you can sleep in the truck.” He rummaged the keys out of his pocket then tossed them overhand to Nick. “Have at it. Or you could make the sensible choice and spend the night in the bar, as I plan to.”
Nick sighed. “Right. Except you don’t get drunk, you burly bastard. You just get smiley.”
“Mmm,” Abram said, showing off a fine example. “Sweet dreams.”
He clicked his tongue at Nick as the disgruntled young EMT ambled away. Lord, the folly of youth. Made an old man feel tired—and lonely. Though he would rather a meal than a drink, no matter what he’d said before. They hadn’t stopped for dinner before starting their drive to the stadium, and any room service he might have hoped for had gone up in smoke when Ivan had decided to use their crash space to host his reunion.
C’est la vie. Now, had he or had he not seen a restaurant tucked away down the main left corridor, leading away from the foyer…?
As it turned out, he had. Too bad the looks of the place were less than promising. Darkened lights, chairs being flipped up onto tables, and only a lingering smell of sizzling meat and spices left in the air. Abram checked his watch. Barely eleven.
“Sorry,” said a quiet, little voice Abram could only describe—though instantly—as sweet. A young man curled up on a bench outside the hotel restaurant closed the cover of the electronic gizmo he held and smiled at Abram. “I came here looking for a snack myself, but they’re closed. I think there’s a coffee machine at the end of the hall if you’re thirsty.”
He could do with a cup of something with caffeine to help keep himself awake, yes, but that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. Abram cocked his head. “I know you, though.
Don’t I?” He snapped his fingers. “I remember now. You smiled at me before the game. I had a feeling I’d run into you again.”
Not that he’d tell the young man why. He hadn’t noticed the significance of the age difference before, and while the object of his interest was no less appealing—far from it—Abram did know how to behave himself. Ah well.
“So did I. And here we are,” the young man said, seeming pleased.
Lord have mercy. If Abram had allowed it, he could let that go to his head, such an approving look from a young man with lambent amber eyes.
Who then asked, apparently apropos of nothing, “How far is the horizon?”
Huh? “Good question,” Abram allowed, rubbing at his chin. “Tell you what. I’ll answer if you tell me which is the most drinkable option on this machine you mention, tea or coffee or cocoa?”
The amber-eyed boy wrinkled his pert nose. “I’m not sure.”
“Neither am I. Aren’t we a pair?”
That made the amber-eyed boy smile. Didn’t he have the funniest face? Beautiful, yes, but somehow the set of his fine features made the whole of him endearing, young, sweet. He budged back, drawing his feet up beneath him and giving Abram room to sit if he chose. “I’m Nathaniel. Robbie’s brother. I know you’re one of Ivan’s friends, but which one?”
His name was Abram. A good name, Nathaniel thought, for a good man. He honestly hadn’t been bothered by the age difference before. Abram had one of those faces that would look the same from thirty to sixty, maybe even at seventy. Young with laughter. In real time, he’d be…twenty years older, maybe? Not that it mattered. Only—how awful, for anyone to live all that time without finding their soulmate. How lonely. It made Nathaniel want to wrap his arms around Abram’s neck and hold on.
But age didn’t matter now, did it? Abram was so big and wonderfully sturdy, not like a tree or a rock after all, but as if he’d always been there and the rest had given way to come up around him. With a good nature, too. Not like Robbie’s occasional chuckle or Cade’s constant teasing. A sort of satisfaction with living his life.
If not a sense of satisfaction with machine coffee, for which Nathaniel couldn’t blame him. He sipped at his own cup with more enjoyment.
“Honestly, you must have taste buds made of carbon steel,” Abram said with a grimace. He’d sat on the bench without being asked to, sharing with Nathaniel without further ado. Nathaniel liked the unconscious claim-staking of it. Another good sign. “I swear from the way you’re smiling, I’d be tempted to suspect you like the taste.”
Nathaniel laughed quietly. “Not really. It’s just the nostalgia. I used to love this stuff when I was younger. They had a machine at the auto parts store where Robbie worked. I’d go there after school since he didn’t want me to be left home alone, and he’d keep me busy by sneaking me a quarter every hour.”
“That’s one way to keep a kid occupied.” Abram whistled. “How old were you?”
“Eleven. It helped me get all my homework done in time, that’s for sure.” Nathaniel tucked his hand between his cheek and the bench cushion. “Robbie did the best he could with what he had. I didn’t mind.”
Abram made an mmm of acknowledgment, but seemed to still be stuck on the effects of feeding caffeine to a preteen. The twinkle in his eye dared Nathaniel to react when he teased, “No wonder you’re such a shrimp.”
Shrimp? Maybe. Next to a burly bear of a man like Abram, definitely. Nathaniel wasn’t bothered. He liked being compact. He fit into all the cozy places. But to please Abram, he pretended to bristle. “Hey now. I could ask if your parents stood you in fertilizer when you were young. How would you like that?”
Abram scooped up the bait and lobbed it back with a wider grin, but barely a blink. “It wasn’t fertilizer. It was mulch—for an hour every day after school. And I liked it fine, thanks.” He leaned back against the wall, as companionably as if he and Nathaniel had been friends for years, seeming not to think twice about it. “You are tiny, though. Don’t deny it.”
“I always have been.” Nathaniel loved the warmth of Abram’s regard, even while teasing. It made his heart bubble like soda, like strawberries in champagne glasses. “Robbie named me. When I was born, he took one look at me and said I was too little for even a three-letter name. I would have been Ray, but at Robbie’s request, I became Nathaniel. Something to grow into.”
“Nathaniel,” Abram said slowly, rolling the syllables over his tongue. Nathaniel thought he looked as if he liked the taste of them tumbling between his teeth. “He made a good call. I can’t imagine you with any other name.”
“Glad you approve,” Nathaniel said. Playfully—and to see what Abram would make of it—he stretched out one calf and nudged Abram’s thigh with his bare toes.
He got a reaction, all right. The big man jumped as if he’d been tickled by a live wire. Nathaniel drew his foot halfway back, startled. “Sorry.”
“No, no,” Abram said, suddenly liking the taste of his machine coffee enough to take a healthy draft. “It’s just…well. It’s been a… Oh God, shoot me now.”
Nathaniel’s laugh bubbled out of him. He put his foot right back where he wanted it, snugged against Abram’s thigh. I see now. You’re shy, aren’t you? Such bashfulness on so big a man might have put him off if it’d been anyone else but with Abram, he couldn’t help finding it endearing.
Let’s see if we can’t warm you up, hmm?
Touch like a live wire or not, Abram couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed a conversation more than this one with Ivan’s little brother-in-law. And yes, ‘little’ was the right word. Petite, even. Dainty as a bird, with slender hands and slim feet, bare of the shoes he’d tucked neatly beneath the bench he sat on.
Enchanting, even when rambling on about Robbie and Ivan—who Abram had a hell of a time focusing on at the moment.
“I barely remember Ivan, to tell the truth. But I do recall thinking once back then that they were exactly like a fairy tale,” he said, his demure smile begging Abram to tease him for his sentimentality.
Who was he to say no? He nudged Nathaniel’s trim ankle. “Oh, I have no doubt you’re the kind of man who enjoys fairy tales.”
“Princes and princesses,” Nathaniel agreed, “and castles where they live happily ever after. Do you think it’s childish of me?”
“No,” Abram said, unable to smooth his smile away. “I think it’s terribly romantic.”
“Oh, ‘terribly’ even, for shame.” Nathaniel’s smile widened. “But you’re right. I loved fairy tales when I was younger, and I didn’t see any reason to stop loving them because I’d grown up.”
“And what did you become, when you grew up?”
“A librarian,” he said, surprising Abram not at all. “It’s not what most people think—all cardigans and stamping books—not these days—but it suits me, and it’s comfortable. I fit in there.”
Abram could easily believe that. “Then here’s to not outgrowing fairy tales—or happy ever afters.”
“Sláinte,” Nathaniel said, sitting up straight. The rim of his cup kissed the rim of Abram’s.
God in heaven, the way Nathaniel looked at him, as if he were far more interesting than any widower cop had a right to be. As if he fascinated the amber-eyed boy.
“I should give you my number,” Nathaniel said after a pause.
“And why’s that?”
“So we can keep tabs on the boys, of course. Your Ivan and my Robbie.”
“I think they might have something to say about proprietorship after tonight,” Abram had to point out, even as he dug in his pocket for a pen. “But all right, I’ll play partner-in-crime. Got anything to write on?”
Nathaniel held up his slim hand in answer, turning it from back to front to show Abram the smooth bare skin. “Will this do?”
Abram eyed him. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just input it in your phone.”
“Don’t be silly.” Nathaniel made a light grab for the pen held in Abram’
s fingers, and somehow—Abram had trouble believing he could be accidentally clumsy, but who knew—between them they fumbled, sending the pen slipping down to clatter and roll away.
“I’m the silly one, am I?” Abram asked. He pushed himself off the ridiculously comfortable bench in their now-solitary nook and went to one knee to catch the culprit before it disappeared into the shadows underneath.
He only realized once he looked up what sort of position he’d put himself into. Odds were Nathaniel, watching him with a raised eyebrow as Abram neatly situated himself between the young man’s slender thighs, had seen this coming. He laughed when Abram gulped.
“The look on your face. Am I that bad?”
“You’re not, and you know it,” Abram’s mouth said without permission from his mind. He sighed. “God help you if you do or don’t know what you’re doing. You are a pretty one, aren’t you?”
Nathaniel’s cheeks colored up, a pale pink that warmed his eyes to glowing. “You really think so?” he murmured.
And that would have been all right, if that had been the end of it, but as light and graceful as a butterfly, he sat upright—and draped his calves over Abram’s shoulders.
Abram didn’t quite freeze, but by God it was a close call. “What are you—?” He stopped himself. “You little devil. I’m too old for this. What are you after?”
“I think you know,” Nathaniel said. “And you’re not too old.”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Abram chided with a light slap to Nathaniel’s calf. “Answer the question.”
“I want whatever you want to give. You. I want you. Do you want me? All you have to say is yes or no.”
Yes, his cock insisted. Abram ignored it with what he considered to be a fairly herculean and understandably last-ditch effort. He couldn’t remember being this quick off the mark since the very earliest days with Callum. “How old are you?” he asked, instead of dragging Nathaniel off the bench to roll on the floor with him. “Be honest. I’ve been a cop for a long time, you butterfly. I’ll know if you’re trying to trick me.”
