by K. C. Wells
Micah’s eyes widened. “They’re getting up. They’re going to leave.”
Greg’s heart pounded. “Follow them? See if they get into a vehicle? That way, we can get a license number.”
Micah nodded. “I can do that. You stay here, okay? I’ll be back. I don’t know how long it will take, but you don’t move from this spot, you hear me?”
Greg shivered. “Loud and clear.” He didn’t think he was capable of movement right then anyway.
Micah released Greg’s hand, grabbed his jacket, and walked off. Greg didn’t dare move, rooted to the bench. He reached for Micah’s still half full glass, and drained it. The server approached him and refilled it.
How long he sat there, Greg had no idea. His lunch felt like a bowling ball in his stomach, and swallowing became a chore. When Micah’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, he almost jumped out of his skin.
“Sorry.” Micah slid into the booth next to him. “I’ve got it.” He held up his phone. “Not only that, I took a photo of their car as they drove off.” He squeezed Greg’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely positive it was them?”
Greg nodded. “No doubt at all.”
“Then what do you want to do with this information?”
Greg had been thinking about that very thing. “We go home, and then I call Detective Riley. After that? I throw up.” He felt like he was going to do that at any second.
“I’ll pay the check, then I’ll bring the car to the front of the restaurant. That’s after I get you to the chairs by the door. Okay?” Micah gazed into his eyes.
Greg drew in a deep breath. “Okay.” He just wanted to go home.
It wasn’t until he was sitting by the door, waiting for Micah to appear, that he realized the truth of his statement. That house on Willow Creek Drive did feel like home. And that had everything to do with the people who lived in it.
One in particular.
Micah came into his dad’s office, just in time to hear the tail end of Greg’s conversation.
“Yes, thank you, Detective Riley. Yes, I’ll be sure to give you a forwarding address when I leave here.”
That was enough to make him stop listening, his heart sinking like a rock.
I’m deluding myself here, aren’t I? This isn’t some fairy tale. As soon as he’s well enough to leave, Greg will pack his bag and that will be that. Gone.
It didn’t matter that Micah was already head over heels in love for the first time in his life. This wasn’t Greg’s home, no matter how much it felt like he belonged there, heart, body and soul. He had his own family back in California, his own life to lead. And barring a miracle, or someone sprinkling fairy dust, there was nothing to keep Greg there.
There were no such things as miracles or magic.
“Micah?”
He pulled himself back into the moment. Dad was standing next to Greg, regarding Micah with amusement.
“Sorry, I must have zoned out there.” Micah peered at Greg. “You look exhausted.”
Greg gave him a weary smile. “Gee, thanks.” Then he put his head back against the chair, closing his eyes.
Dad gazed at him in concern. “Micah’s right, you’re all wrung out. Why don’t you go lie down for a while? We’ll call you for dinner.”
“Dad’s right. A nap would do you good.”
Greg opened his eyes and nodded. “Okay.” Dad helped him to his feet, then handed him his crutches. Greg made his way around the desk, clearly fatigued. Micah followed him to his room, then guided him to sit on the bed.
“Lie back,” he said, moving the crutches.
Greg didn’t say a word, but merely shuffled up the bed until his head hit the pillows. Micah removed his boots, then went into the closet. He brought out a thick, soft comforter, and unfolded it, spreading it out over Greg’s prone form. He bent low and stroked Greg’s cheek. “Get some sleep.”
“K.” Greg already sounded half asleep. By the time Micah reached the door, his breathing had evened out. Micah pulled the door to, and walked into the kitchen. Dad was pouring out a mug of coffee. He glanced up as Micah entered.
“He looks awful.”
“No wonder.” Naomi shook her head. “How would you feel, if the assholes who beat you up and left you for dead were sitting a few feet behind you, eating away, happy as a clam? Poor Greg.” Her face tightened. “What did the police say anyway?”
“They’re gonna check the license and find out who the car is registered to. They already have Greg’s descriptions. Then I guess we wait and see what they do next.”
“Will Greg have to identify them in a line-up?”
“Probably. Thing is, what evidence is there likely to be after this time? It’s just his word against theirs.” Dad seemed miserable. Micah totally got that. He’d had the same thoughts all the trip home. Greg hadn’t said a word, just stared through the windshield the whole time.
“Maybe it’s enough to have them identified on record,” he mused. “Because if they did this once, and got away with it, they might get the idea they can do it again. Their next victim might not be so lucky.”
Naomi froze. “What are you talking about?”
It was then that Micah realized Naomi hadn’t been home there when Greg had finally revealed what had happened. He sighed heavily. “Greg was targeted because he was gay.”
Dad’s face darkened. “I’m just glad he finally told the police everything. Not that it was a complete surprise. Didn’t I guess back in that hospital room? Those hateful bastards.” He glanced in the direction of Greg’s room. “That boy didn’t deserve this.”
“No one deserves that!” Naomi yelled. Micah put his finger to his lips, and she stiffened. “Sorry. I got carried away. It’s just that you think things are getting better, that we’re advancing, but then you only have to click on a news site or open a newspaper to see we’re actually moving backwards. It makes me sick to think there is so much hate out there.” Her eyes glistened.
Micah strode across the kitchen and hugged her tightly. “It’s six of one, half-dozen of the other, sis. You see the hate, but I see hope.”
Naomi gaped at him. “Where?”
He cupped her chin. “When you talked about your classmates? I felt hopeful. You painted a picture of a diverse group, who all get along, in spite of what divides them, because they don’t see the differences. That gives me hope, right there.”
Naomi regarded him thoughtfully. “I didn’t see it like that.”
He kissed her cheek and released her. “But you do now.” Micah smiled, then turned to his dad. “How would you feel if we put on a Christmas movie tonight? I was thinking popcorn too.” This had to be Dad’s decision.
Dad gazed at him for a moment. “We haven’t watched one yet, have we?” When both of them shook their heads, he sighed. “Fair enough. Pick one.” He snickered. “We’re not exactly short on movies to choose from, right?” Mom’s Christmas DVDs took up a whole shelf.
“Can I choose?” Naomi asked quietly.
Micah had a feeling he knew what was coming.
“Sure.” Dad smiled. “It’s not like we haven’t seen all of them at least a gazillion times.”
“It’s A Wonderful Life,” she announced promptly, her gaze flickering the tiniest bit in Micah’s direction.
“Why not?” Dad agreed. Naomi beamed at him triumphantly.
Micah gave an inward groan. His sister was about as subtle as a sledgehammer.
Chapter Nineteen
Greg couldn’t get rid of the idea that something was wrong with Micah. No, not just Micah—Joshua and Naomi too. There was nothing he could put his finger on, just an… undercurrent, a feeling throughout the day that something was going on beneath the surface, out of sight. Then it came to him, and he cursed himself for being so stupid.
Of course. Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death. No wonder they were distracted. He guessed it would be a while before Christmas regained any of its former magic and sparkle for the Trant family. They were wor
king on it—well, Naomi certainly was—but Greg knew it wasn’t going to be plain sailing. Then I need to make the day as easy for them as I can.
He just wasn’t certain how he could accomplish that.
This is sure going to be one messed up Christmas.
He’d gotten over his shock of the previous day, but it hadn’t entirely left his thoughts. Now and again he fell to wondering what was happening. Had the detectives taken the guys in for questioning, or would they leave it until after the holidays? Was there enough evidence to charge them? When would they need him to identify the bastards? The conversation with Detective Riley had brought one issue to the forefront of his mind, however—Micah.
Six weeks. That’s all it’s been, six weeks. Yet it felt like he’d known Micah for so much longer. A line came to mind from one of his mom’s favorite musicals, My Fair Lady. Something about growing accustomed to someone’s face, but there was more to it than that. Waking up in the morning and seeing Micah’s smile. Hearing him laugh and joke with his dad. Watching him paint. Feeling that gentle hand on Greg’s face when Micah kissed him.
Heat raced through him at the memory of other more carnal activities, but he knew his feelings weren’t all about the sex. Yes, he’d experienced a lot of firsts with Micah, but that wasn’t it either. When Detective Riley brought up the subject of Greg leaving Wyoming, that set off a chain reaction of conflicting emotions, which all boiled down to one vital realization.
Greg had no clue what to do.
He’d told himself it was no use making decisions right then. Those could wait. But he knew he was putting off the moment when he needed to decide where his future lay—and with whom. And as the day dragged on, those thoughts continued to plague him, until he couldn’t take it any longer.
Inaction and indecision were no longer an option.
Greg tapped on Joshua’s office door.
“Come in.” Joshua was seated at his desk, peering at a monitor. Greg wasn’t surprised to find him working: he guessed it was Joshua’s way of coping. He smiled as Greg entered the room. “Hey. You need something?”
Greg hobbled over to the couch and sat down. “I was going to wrap my gifts, until I remembered I didn’t buy any paper.” He couldn’t ask Micah: he’d locked himself away in his studio. Naomi had gone into Gillette for some last-minute groceries. It seemed like all the Trants were hiding from the holidays.
“No problem. We have tons of that. I’ll find you a roll and some tape. Oh!” Joshua unlocked a drawer in his desk. “You might need this then.” He removed a small silver bag. “The results of my little shopping trip for you.”
“Great. Can we settle up? I can transfer the money to your account.”
Joshua got up and walked over to him. “Yeah, sure.” He handed Greg the bag, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a sweet gift. Not what I expected you to get. Kinda made me feel like…” He sighed. “I wish I knew where this is going.”
Greg didn’t have to ask what ‘this’ referred to. “You and me both, sir.” Joshua blinked, and Greg smiled. “No, I don’t have the answers either.” Then he remembered his real reason for paying Joshua a visit. “Can I ask a favor? Do you have a laptop I can use?” Thus far, he’d used Joshua’s PC, but he didn’t want to impost any further.
“Sure. I’ll bring it to your room, along with the password details.” He laid a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “I know the circumstances that brought you here were pretty awful, but… I sure am glad you’re here. It’s been great having you around the place these last weeks.” He swallowed. “And I’m gonna miss you when you leave. I know I won’t be the only one.”
Greg’s throat tightened. “Please… don’t.”
Joshua flinched. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. I’m just a little frazzled right now. Time of year, an’ all that.” He took a deep breath. “Anyhow, if you go to your room, I’ll bring you the paper, scissors, tape, and the laptop. That okay?”
Greg used the crutches to lever himself up onto his feet. “Thank you.” Impulsively, Greg put his arm around Joshua’s back and gave him a one-arm hug, as much as he dared do while trying not to overbalance. Then he took a careful step back.
Joshua’s face flushed. “You’re welcome.”
Greg made his way to his bedroom, taking his time.
At least he was going to do something.
When he’d lain awake for more than an hour, Micah decided enough was enough. He got out of bed, pulled on his robe, and crept downstairs. The house was silent, and through the windows he could see the bright lights that still burned. Then he realized: it was officially Christmas Day.
A wave of sorrow washed over him, and he fought back the tears. “Merry Christmas, Mom,” he whispered. Fighting to maintain his composure, he went into the kitchen to make himself a warm drink. When a noise disturbed the silence, Micah knew he wasn’t the only insomniac in the house. He crept to the hallway that led to the back yard. Light spilled from under Greg’s bedroom door. Micah walked up to it, internally debating whether to knock, or just make his drink and go back to bed.
Like he could walk away, especially when he didn’t want to be on his own right then.
Micah rapped gently on the door.
“Come in.” He just about caught Greg’s quietly spoken instruction. Micah pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The room was lit by the lamp next to Greg’s bed. He lay under the comforter, no trace of sleep in his expression. “Hey. You couldn’t sleep either?”
Micah smiled. “It’s getting to be a habit.”
“I didn’t see much of you today.” Greg patted the space beside him. “Please, sit.”
Micah sat on the bed, leaning against the head board. “Sorry. I had something to do in the studio.” He knew that was only half the truth, but Greg didn’t need to know the rest, especially as most of it related to him.
“Did you get it done, whatever it was?”
He sighed. “Yes.” He had no idea how it would be received, however. “And why can’t you sleep?”
“Too much on my mind, I guess. I couldn’t switch my brain off.”
Micah came to a reluctant decision. “I should let you at least try to sleep.” He got up.
“Do you have to go?” Greg blurted out. He paused, and Greg held out his hand. “Stay with me? Please?”
Slowly, Micah grasped it. “You sure?”
Greg nodded. In silence, he released Micah’s hand and lifted the comforter and sheets, revealing his body, bare but for a pair of white boxers, and the ever-present cast.
Micah let his robe slip from his shoulders, then climbed into the bed, thankful that he was on Greg’s right. “I don’t want to accidentally nudge your leg or something.”
Greg smiled. “You won’t. You’re careful.” Micah liked the confidence that rang out in those few words.
Micah stretched out beside him, and Greg covered them both. He lay on his back, his head turned in Micah’s direction.
“Do you know how many times this past week that I’ve wanted to ask you to do this?” Greg chuckled softly. “Seems weird, huh? I know how your dick tastes, but I don’t know how it feels to spend a night with you sleeping beside me.”
Micah snickered. “Yeah, we have been doing that a lot, haven’t we?” He reached across and brushed his fingers over Greg’s nipples. “What about now? Is that all you wanna do? Sleep?”
Greg’s breathing hitched and he shivered. “Why—what else did you have in mind?”
“That depends on you.” Micah knew where he wanted this to go, but only if Greg was on the same page. Not to mention getting their heads around the logistics of the situation.
“So… if I wanted more than a midnight blow-job, you’d be okay with that?” Greg’s eyes shone in the lamplight.
Fuck. Micah wasn’t the only one who needed. Before he could reply, Greg grasped Micah’s hand and pulled it down his torso, until his fingers touched the soft cotton of his boxers—and the hardness that lay beneath them.
>
The breath caught in Micah’s throat. “And if I want this inside me?” Just the thought made him hot all over.
Greg’s eyes were huge. “Can… can we do that? I mean, with my leg and all?”
Micah grinned. “Where there’s a will….” Then sanity returned. “Only, I’ll have to go back to my room for supplies.”
“No need.” Greg pointed to the nightstand. “There are condoms and lube in that drawer.” When Micah gazed at him inquiringly, he flushed. “So I was hopeful. Not to mention practical. Bite me.”
Micah couldn’t resist. “I was thinking more along the lines of sucking you, but whatever.” Greg let out a dirty giggle. Then a thought occurred to him. “When did you buy those?”
“When you went to the restroom at CVS. And about that… damn, do you always pee so fast? I almost broke my other leg, trying to get back to where you left me, before you worked out where I was.”
“I’ll take my time in the future.” Micah knelt up in bed and pulled back the sheets. “Okay, these need to come off.” He grabbed the waistline on Greg’s boxers and slowly eased them down, taking extra care when he got to the cast. Greg’s dick stood upright, and Micah licked his lips. “Damn. Someone’s in need.”
“Micah?” He glanced down to where Greg stared up at him. “Kiss me?”
Like Micah could refuse that invitation.
He got off the bed and removed his own shorts, his cock already at half-mast. Greg held his arms wide, and Micah rejoined him, their bodies touching as he leaned over and took Greg’s mouth in a languid kiss. Greg moaned softly, his hands caressing Micah’s nape and shoulders, shuddering when Micah stroked lower.
“Love it… when you touch me,” Greg said, a shiver coursing through him. “Love the way you kiss me too.”
It was there, right there, on the tip of Micah’s tongue. That’s because I love you. Only he didn’t dare. Instead, he kissed down the length of Greg’s neck, feeling the tremors that rocketed through him. It was like each caress, each kiss, caused a physical reaction. Micah felt every explosion of sensation in Greg’s body, and it sent his own desire spiraling. Then Greg grabbed him and tugged him higher, their mouths meeting in a heated fusion of lips and tongues. Micah explored him, his hand moving slowly over Greg’s chest and abs, shifting lower, until that hard shaft was in his hand once more.
