Home Skillet

by Sandra Damien

  I took a half step back and released his hands. He was looking at me like I’d drugged him. He reached forward, palming my cock through my jeans, his gaze flickering to mine when he realized I was soft.

  I took another step back, needing more space between us. He dropped his hand to his side, and I felt like the world’s biggest dickwad.

  “I’m sorry,” I choked, my throat thick, tight with bitterness. “I’m such an asshole. I shouldn’t be here.”

  “You’re not… like, married or something.”

  “No. Just in love with a guy who chose someone else.” I scrubbed a hand down over my face. “I’m such an asshole,” I repeated, looking up to meet his eyes. His brow furrowed, his expression confused and concerned at the same time. “I shouldn’t have come out tonight. I was just looking for… I don’t know what I was looking for,” I admitted.

  “I get it,” he said dejectedly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s okay.”

  What the hell had I been thinking? From the few minutes of conversation we’d had, it was clear Scott was a good man. I’d fucked up his night and made us both feel like shit. “It’s really not okay. You’re a nice guy. If things weren’t… if I weren’t, I mean…”

  “It’s okay,” he said again, punctuating his sentiment with a squeeze to my shoulder.

  I heaved a sigh. “I should go.”

  He gave me a half smile and nodded. “Sure.”

  This was so fucking awkward. I should have just gotten blitzed-ass drunk and gone to bed. The whole night hadn’t turned out anything like I thought it would, and now I’d made it worse for me and this poor guy who was still staring at me, waiting for me to get the fuck out of his house.

  “Thanks,” I said as I walked toward the door. “For the beer. And for understanding.”

  “No problem. I hope things work out with your guy.”

  I shrugged. “Probably not going to happen, but thanks anyway.”

  With one last half-hearted smile, I pulled open the door and walked out.

  Chapter Five

  Jimmy

  I woke up to the stench of stale alcohol permeating the apartment. For one sleep-addled second I thought I’d gone overboard last night, but it wasn’t until I sat up, my head free from the telltale pounding of a hangover, that I remembered I hadn’t drank anything more than that one beer while I was making dinner.

  Frowning, I sniffed at my shirt. Definitely wasn’t me.

  God—was that Ben? I flipped the blanket onto the back of the couch, then padded to his bedroom, cracking the door open partially to find him laid out on his back, mouth open and arms flung wide. The smell was concentrated here, mixed with the scent of sweat and the near-constant base note of frying oil.

  I should have just closed the door and walked away, but as I watched him breathing deeply, his bare chest rising and falling, all I could remember was the way he’d smelled at the edge of his jawline all those years ago. I swallowed thickly as I raked my gaze down his flat stomach, letting it linger at the sheet bunched around his narrow hips and over the noticeable swell there.

  Once upon a time, I’d known his body better than my own. I’d mapped it so many times in the dark, in the light, hell, upside down, that every curve and every plane was etched into my mind.

  I gripped the doorframe as my already hard cock lurched painfully, and tore my eyes away.

  Well, at least he’d made it home safely. Small blessings. I shut the door reluctantly and went to the bathroom to take care of business.

  I was equal parts relieved he was back and pissed he’d just ditched me like that. I’d barely seen him since I’d been here, and earlier in the day I’d gotten my hopes up for a quiet night in, shooting the shit like we used to do.

  Instead I’d sat on the couch, eating the meal I’d made for us without tasting anything, and mindlessly flicked through the channels on TV, growing surlier as the night wore on.

  I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that had me so agitated. This is who Ben was. For as long as I could remember, he’d liked to go out and have a good time, in all senses of the word, though his nights out had become a lot more frequent after I’d moved to the city. I thought about it a lot—probably more than I should have. Sometimes I wondered if I’d pushed him to become that guy, if maybe things had been different and we’d let our… whatever it was, run its course, then maybe he’d be a serial monogamist instead of a serial manwhore.

  As much as I wondered about it, though, there was no going back. Even if Jenna and her golden opportunity hadn’t come along, it would have inevitably been someone else, some other woman I’d have hidden my secret life behind. I couldn’t live like Ben—couldn’t do that to my family. They would never understand, especially my parents.

  I remembered with vivid clarity the day my parents had discovered my uncle had voted for Carter. There’d nearly been a knock-down, drag-out fistfight at the family picnic. That was when I’d really begun to understand how staunchly my parents held to their beliefs and how boldly they would defend them.

  For years, little quips and underhanded remarks dotted the days in between the flat-out homophobic rants, and by the time I’d really started to understand who I was, I understood even better that they could never know.

  So as much as I loved being with Ben, loved living with him, and loved fucking around with him even more than that, it never could have been long-term. Not for someone like me anyway.

  But damn if not a day went by that I didn’t relive those days over and over, falling asleep with my cock in my fist and Ben’s name on my lips.

  After a shower and brewing a pot coffee that failed to rouse Ben from the dead, I sat with my mug at the kitchen counter, nervous energy thrumming through me. I was going stir-crazy being cooped up inside for close to a week, only made worse by Ben’s less-than-enthused attitude to me being there. Sure, he was the one who’d offered to let me crash, but I was beginning to suspect it had more to do with his sense of obligation as my friend rather than any desire for me to actually be there.

  I sighed as I stared into my mug. How had I let his friendship slip away so easily? Ben had been the one constant in my life since high school, the one person I’d turned to when something good happened or when life really turned to shit. I hadn’t thought about how much I’d taken him for granted until now—god, I was an asshole. I’d give anything to go back and keep us from drifting so far. I knew I was responsible for it. I’d been the one to walk away, the one who was too busy to make time. And now I realized just how much I missed him.

  Maybe I couldn’t change the past, but I could do my best to fix things in the future before our friendship was completely irreparable.

  There was a loud knock at the door, and I jumped, so wrapped in my thoughts. I didn’t know if Ben was expecting anybody, but when I didn’t hear movement from his room, I went to the door and pulled it open.

  “James Carver?” said the bored-looking courier, a messenger bag slung across his body.

  I frowned. “That’s me.”

  “Sign here please.” He thrust out a clipboard, pointing out my name on the sheet.

  “What is this?”

  “They don’t pay me to know things, man,” he said, snapping his gum, then handed over an envelope and turned down the hall.

  I shut the door with my hip and ripped open the envelope. Great. Fucking great. I’d just been served with the divorce papers. I’d known this was coming, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to look at the paperwork right now. I dumped it on the kitchen counter.

  I needed to talk to someone. I was spending way too much time in my head lately, what with Ben at work or out or just plain shrouded in tension. Two weeks ago, Jenna probably would have been my first choice, but considering she was the reason I was in this position right now, I shot that idea right down. Maybe one day we could be civil to each other again, maybe get back to a place where we’d be friends again, but right now, it was all I could do to keep it toget
her when I thought about how everything had gone down.

  Instead, I dialed my sister’s number and listened to it ring. I was about to hang up, when the line picked up and I heard her breathless voice over a cacophony of noise in the background.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Vic—is this a bad time?”

  The phone muffled, and I heard her yell for the kids to pipe down before she came back on the line. “Jimmy?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Holy shit. Is everything okay? You never call me.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m not good at keeping in touch with anyone, apparently.” I couldn’t help the note of bitterness in my voice. Ben’s wasn’t the only relationship I’d neglected over the years, and I felt like a dick.

  Victoria was the only person in my family I’d ever really gotten along with. She was a few years older than me and so had her own life that had very little to do with me, but she’d always had my back when it counted. I felt like a dick for not calling and telling her what had happened, but I was sure my mother had filled her in on all the relevant details.

  “It’s okay,” she said gently. “You’re so busy. Everyone understands that.”

  “Was busy.”

  “What do you mean ‘was’?”

  I sighed and stared out the back window. “Everything is falling apart. Jenna left me and she’s selling the restaurant—”

  “Wait, back up a second. She left you?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay with it, Vic. I promise. That’s honestly the least of my problems.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna need to circle back around to that. But you let me know if I need to hurt somebody.” I smiled at that. God love her. “And the restaurant—can she do that?”

  “Apparently she can.”

  “So where does that leave you?” Victoria’s voice had gone from understanding to angry in the span of two sentences, and I felt a little surge of love for her. I’d been an ass to her too, not calling to check in on her and the kids, but she was still my big sister and fiercely protective, even without all the information.

  “I don’t know.” I flicked through the divorce paperwork, honing in on the section regarding division of assets. “One thing at a time, I guess. We had a prenup, so that part is pretty straightforward; it’s just all the stuff that came after the marriage. Getting my share of the Carvery isn’t as cut and dried, considering I’d been paying into it for so many years.”

  “Don’t you sign anything without getting a lawyer.”

  “Yeah. I called Ike already. He should have a copy of the papers already.”

  “Good.” She paused, and I could hear cartoons playing in the background. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I know how much that restaurant meant to you. This has gotta be hard on you.”

  I grimaced, trying to keep my voice light. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Where are you? Do you need a place to crash?”

  “You’ve got enough on your plate.” I smiled, thinking of my four nieces and nephews. “I’m at Ben’s.”

  “You’re in town? Shit, does Mom know?”

  “No, and don’t you say a word to her. I can’t handle her sanctimony on top of everything else.” I leaned back in my chair and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “Fine, but you know she’s gonna have a fucking conniption if she finds out you’re here and didn’t tell her. You gotta tell her.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Guess you’re one less person I have to split my inheritance with. How’s Ben anyway?”

  “Good,” I started. “Weird.”

  “You and Ben have always been weird. Remember when you created that cowboy club in the fourth grade and he’d only respond to the name ‘Tex’ for like, a month?”

  I laughed at the thought of it. “God, I’d forgotten about that. He sauntered around in that bolo tie he’d made from one of his mom’s broaches and a shoelace he’d found at school.” I wondered briefly if him choosing Buck’s was a throwback to that, and if he had to wear a bolo tie while he was cooking. I hadn’t been there in ages, but from what I recalled about the place, all the servers dressed like they were starring in a Western.

  And then I felt shitty all over again because in all the years Ben had worked there, I’d never once bothered to visit him.

  “You weren’t any better,” Victoria reminded me. “He made you a matching one, and you wore it on picture day.”

  “Okay, yeah. We were both weirdos.”

  “All I’m sayin’.”

  “Things were a hell of a lot simpler back then.”

  “Yeah. Being a grown-up sucks. I don’t recommend it at all.” She paused to tell one of her kids to wait a second as her son’s little voice sounded over the line, though I couldn’t quite hear what he was asking for. “So why are things weird with you and Ben?”

  For a fraction of a moment, I was tempted to tell her everything, to divulge my biggest secret, but at the last second, I balked. “I think maybe I’m just intruding in his space. I’ve been here a week, and he seems almost angry I am. I thought things would be the way they were, but everything has changed and I think it’s probably my fault.”

  “I’m almost sure it is, but whatever it is you’ve done or haven’t done, Ben is a good guy. He’s your best friend. He’s going to understand and he’s going to forgive you, so long as you figure out how to pull your head out of your ass and make it up to him.”

  She always knew the right thing to say. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m always here for you. You know that.” The phone muffled again, and I heard her shouting. “I gotta go. I left Abby in her diaper for too long, and now I have to go chip shit off her ass. Tell me again how you want kids someday?”

  I laughed, and at that moment, the bedroom door swung open and Ben emerged, dressed in his work uniform.

  “Better you than me right now,” I said. “I’ll leave you to it. Love you.”

  “Call Mom,” she warned and then hung up.

  I set the phone back in the cradle just as Ben appeared in the doorway, then made his way over to the coffeemaker to pour himself a large mug.

  “Morning. Sleep well?”

  He swallowed a little too quickly, his eyes watering. “Yeah, not too bad. What about you?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  Awkward silence fell between us and I wanted to say something, make some sort of promise or apology that would erase whatever fucking tension existed in the room. I’d been selfish and self-absorbed and I needed not to be, but I also had no idea how to start working on that.

  “I gotta go to work,” Ben said, rendering the thought moot.

  “Oh. Right. Okay,” I fumbled, still on unsure footing. I felt like there was something more I should say, if nothing more than to fill the awkward quiet, but no matter how much my brain scrambled for the right thing to say, I came up empty.

  He chugged the rest of his coffee down in uncomfortably long pulls, then set his cup in the sink and walked toward the door, barely sparing a glance in my direction.

  At the last moment, he stopped. “I’ll see ya later,” he said over his shoulder as he grabbed his keys, and then he was gone.

  Left alone once again, I thought about what Victoria had said. All I wanted was for things to be the way they had been. I wanted my friend, wanted to go back to a time when things were simple and it was just us against the world. Everything had seemed so easy when we were kids, like our futures would be bright no matter what. We were bulletproof, and years later I was realizing all it took to chip through that invincibility was time and distance.

  Maybe there was no going back to the way things had been. All I could do was move forward and do everything in my power to make up for lost time.

  Chapter Six

  Ben

  “How many times have I told you assholes to keep the hot sauce on the top shelf?” I grumbled, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference because even if any of the other cooks could have hea
rd me from where they were outside the fridge, the message had fallen on deaf ears more times than I could count. No sense in believing it would be any different this time.

  I spent another four minutes searching behind boxes of produce before I found it, then returned to my station to finish prepping a fresh batch of buffalo sauce. I was irritable and distracted, my mind anywhere but on the food I was preparing.

  Well, not anywhere. It was one place in particular. The same place it’d been for the better part of a week.

  Jimmy.

  I’d hoped to sneak out that morning, careful not to wake him where he was sleeping on the couch, but getting wasted the night before had left me with a killer hangover and I’d snoozed my alarm more times than I should have. By the time I’d gotten myself together, I’d heard him moving around the apartment, his muffled voice coming through the wall as he talked on the phone to someone.

  I’d put off leaving my bedroom until the last possible moment in an attempt to avoid spending more time with him than was necessary. My grand realization the night before had left me feeling emotionally raw, and seeing Jimmy moving so comfortably in my home was more than I could handle.

  Him still being there did weird things to my head I couldn’t quite explain. I wanted him there in the sense that he was still my best friend, but his sudden and overwhelmingly complete presence in my life had thrown me.

  My head was at war with my heart, and it seemed as though the general leading the army was my dick.

  It made for a really fucking confusing existence—one interspersed with periods where all I could think about was what it would be like to let Jimmy fuck me, and ones where I was so irritated he was still around I was ready to smother him in his sleep.

  There was no reprieve—other than my few hours a day at the restaurant—and that didn’t afford me a lot of time to figure my shit out.

  I didn’t want to want him.

  But I did. I wanted him so bad I ached, and it didn’t seem like anything I did, any of the lectures I’d given myself about moving the fuck on, had done one bit of good.