Taking You Home

by Cooper Davis

  She nods. “I want that. I really do, but I’m not sure how to reach him anymore.”

  “All he wants is your acceptance, Leah. He’s been this way a long damn time.”

  “But what about you?” she asks again, really pushing at me. “You were with Veronica when he met you. I remember that very distinctly.”

  Maybe she needs to understand my own journey in order to get a handle on her brother’s sexuality. I’m not really sure, but for some reason I can’t even understand, my face burns at her probing questions. I feel incredibly queer, a little like I’m coming out all over again, with her asking about precisely when I joined the rainbow coalition. Or maybe it’s that I was straight for so long, and she seems to suspect that.

  “I’m not like Max.”

  “You’re not gay?”

  The heat creeps further down into my neck. “No, I’m definitely gay.”

  “But you were with Veronica,” she presses, a strange expression of curiosity forming on her face. Her blonde eyebrows kind of arch, and I get that she’s not trying to shame me or anything.

  I shrug by way of explanation. “And Max was with Louisa.”

  “But you said Max was always gay, so are you saying that you weren’t?”

  “You’re not gonna let me off easy here, are you?”

  “I’m trying to understand all this, Hunter.”

  I sigh heavily and stare her straight in the eye. I’ve got to stay as bold as I’ve been with his family, as strong as I was with Phillip, even here beneath the microscope of the Gestapo Princess.

  “I was always straight. I had plenty of girlfriends over the years, slept with my share of women, and I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it. But when I met your brother…” I hesitate, trying to figure out how to explain it. “He changed me. Suddenly something that I’d never thought about just had me in its grip. Maybe it had always been just below the surface, I don’t really know.”

  She stares at me, her jaw actually dropping. Mine is dropping, too, because I seriously can’t believe I just opened up to her like that. Then those big brown eyes get a little wider, and she says, “Oh my god. You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

  “Well, no shit.”

  “No, no, I mean, that’s why you turned gay, wasn’t it? Until Max, you’d never been with a guy.”

  My face burns even more painfully at her honest assessment. “I never wanted to.”

  “So Max was just the one, wasn’t he?” She’s gotten oddly breathless, as if some crazy jigsaw piece is finally tiling into place. “That’s why you changed.”

  For a long moment I debate what comes next, whether or not I have the guts to say what I feel. But then I realize that I have to lay it out now, because she’s his sister, and she’s got to understand.

  “He’s the love of my life, Leah.”

  She says nothing, just looks at me, until finally she says, “He is wonderful, isn’t he?”

  “Damned amazing.” And she actually laughs, kind of sweetly, really.

  “So you fell in love with him, and took this, well, a path you’d never thought about before.”

  “The night I met him everything changed. Just took me four years to know the score.”

  “The night we met? Well that’s good to know.” His sexy, quiet voice chimes from right behind me, and Leah and I both jump with a start.

  “Man, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” I scold him as he steps around the glider to where we’re sitting.

  “No sneaking, you two just didn’t hear me.”

  “Well, yeah, so maybe you could’ve…” I hesitate, as he gives my arm a tender squeeze, “coughed or something.”

  “Hunter and I are getting to know one another,” Leah explains softly, drawing her feet up beneath her. She makes a point of not seeing him touch me, and Max wins kudos for being out enough to do it.

  There’s a lounge chair right beside me, and Max drapes himself in it lazily. He’s wearing nothing but a tank undershirt, the kind that really emphasizes his chiseled biceps, and a pair of khakis. They’re faded and soft, and my first thought is that he can be my sailorboy any time he wants.

  “You were telling Leah about the night we met,” Max prompts and I toss him what’s meant to be a playful glare. All I get in exchange is a gentle smile that sets my heart beating like mad. I can tell he’s over the moon that I’ve made this kind of headway with her, and he doesn’t even know the half of what he’s missed. He can’t know that things have altered forever with his family tonight, that this icy distance between the two of them has begun to thaw.

  “You tell her,” I urge. “About how we met.”

  Max hesitates a moment, then says, “It was at this trendy little bar down on Sunset. Some place that Veronica was in to at the time.”

  “I was in to Veronica at the time,” I add, and he grins at me.

  “And I was with Louisa,” he agrees. “But then came Hunter through those doors. Tall, handsome, totally arresting.” He actually gives a dreamy little sigh as he remembers the night.

  “Arresting?” My chest puffs outward and I have the urge to thump it with pride.

  “I know there was music in that place, that there were loads of people, that it was really loud,” he reflects. “But when I remember the first moment I saw him, it’s perfectly silent. There’s nothing but Hunter Willis taking that room two steps at a time, heading straight toward me.”

  “Wow.” Leah just stares at her brother, a kind of wonder in her eyes. “It was love at first sight, then.”

  She’s getting this, and I can’t honestly believe it. She’s getting how hard we fell, how intense our attraction was from the very first moment, that this couldn’t possibly be a choice.

  Max glances at me and I realize that I’ve twisted the hem of my T-shirt in my hands.

  “I had a crush on Hunter for years,” he admits and I’m so proud of him I want to give him a sloppy, full-mouthed kiss of appreciation. He’s telling her the truth, admitting openly how long he wanted me. It’s one step away from what he confessed to me in his bedroom earlier tonight.

  “Tell her about our first date,” I suggest, and Max’s expression darkens unexpectedly.

  “She already knows about that.” Max looks at her. “Leah knows all about you, Hunter. How I asked you out, about our beach trip, you moving in with me, all that.”

  Now, this is a surprise, and I glance between the two of them, confused. “I thought, well, that you’d never really discussed our relationship much.”

  “We haven’t. Not much,” she agrees, and her gaze is trained right back on her brother.

  “I sent her a letter,” Max finally says, but he’s not looking at me. He’s still staring at his twin sister. “Before we came home. Telling her that I wanted the two of you to be friends. To be close.”

  “Max, I should have answered,” she says, that lower lip trembling again.

  There’s something here that I’m missing. Maybe it’s one of those spooky twin things, the way they’re staring at one another so intently.

  “But you didn’t, Leah.” He glances at me, almost like he’s trying to change the discussion. “What happened to the cigar?”

  “All gone.”

  “I know I didn’t,” Leah continues, ignoring our little interchange. “I didn’t know what to say. I was so overwhelmed by…this.”

  “This,” Max repeats, his voice rising. Warning bells sound in my head and I know Leah had better tread carefully.

  “By Hunter,” she clarifies, her voice remaining quiet and even.

  “Okay, so you were overwhelmed. Why not call me and tell me that?”

  “Because I didn’t know how to respond.”

  “How about by telling me that you wanted to meet my boyfriend, huh?” he snaps. “Not by ambushing us once we got here, by rush
ing into our bedroom when you know for a fact that we’re lovers. What did you think? That by outing us, it would change things?”

  “That maybe, I don’t know, this whole silence about it would be broken,” she admits in a small voice. “That you’d go back to being who you were before.”

  “There’s no before, Leah. There’s only what I’ve always been. The problem is that I was never who you wanted me to be.”

  She hangs her head at that one, and even though he’s right, it’s not the right time to say it.

  “I love you, Max,” she suddenly whispers with a loud sniffle. “I love you and I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

  He just stares at her, dumbfounded I think, by the change in her outlook, the sincerity of her words. I mean, he knew we were connecting, that we all were, but I doubt he was ready for this much of a change.

  His expression softens as he leans forward in his chair, looking only at her. “You hurt me by turning your back on what I am.”

  “I know that.” She’s crying again now, wiping at the tears as she nods her head. “But I want to understand now. About your being gay, about what you feel for…for, well for Hunter.”

  “What about our marriage?” he asks, and I know he’s bracing for rejection. I see it in his eyes, on his face, and I just hope he can handle it when it comes.

  She says nothing, just rocks a little as she hugs herself. “I want to be there. I want to be part of it, because it means so much to you.”

  “You’ll come?” The way his voice breaks over the words causes my chest to tighten with emotion.

  “Yes, I’d like to be there.”

  “I-I can’t believe that you would.”

  “Well, actually, I can’t either.” She laughs, wiping at her eyes. “But how can I not come? You’re my brother and I love you.”

  “Okay.” He just kind of nods his head, dazed. “Wonderful.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool. Now we have like six people instead of four,” I laugh, but she doesn’t smile.

  “What are you talking about?” she asks, turning to me in dismay.

  “Well, it’s not like we’re going to have a bunch of guests there, Leah,” Max explains, and his voice is edged with sadness. “I mean, you know we can’t share this with that many people. It’s why I wanted my family to be there.”

  “But only six?” she asks again, her eyes wide in disbelief. “It’s a wedding. You have to have more than that.”

  “Okay, so like ten, maybe fifteen,” I admit honestly. “But it’s not a big group, I’ll tell you that.” What I don’t say is that we can’t even come out to most of the people we know, so we sure as hell can’t invite them to our nuptials.

  “You need serious help with this,” she announces, clasping her hands neatly together. “You need my help.”

  Oh, no. Not sure I wanted this much acceptance. “We’re hiring a planner,” I interrupt before she gets any bright ideas.

  “No, don’t do that,” she insists with a little wave of her hand. “I’m great with these kinds of things, really. Just ask Max.”

  I don’t ask Max because he’s staring at her in such shock that I’m not sure he’d be able to answer me. I give the arm of his chair a little tap with my fingertips, and he stares down at my hand.

  “Max?” she finally prompts. “Tell him that I’m great at planning events.”

  “Uh huh.” Okay, it’s definite now; Max has gone into catatonic shock or something.

  “Well, maybe you don’t want that, though,” she says, sounding insecure. “I mean, maybe you’d rather work with someone who’s gay and all. Really, I’d understand.”

  She glances between us, her brown eyes still shining with tears, and thankfully, Max manages to recover his composure. He glances at me for approval and I nod, still wondering how the hell I’m going to handle working with Leah on all this.

  Well, that part’s on Max’s shoulders now, since after all, he’s the one who’s been taping Wedding Story episodes off of TLC like there’s no tomorrow. Good place for ideas, my ass.

  “No, no, that would be fantastic,” he agrees, bobbing his head. “We’d love it if you helped.”

  But he still looks like he’s been caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. And as we agree to discuss the plans further in the morning, once we’ve all had some sleep, I have to admit I feel a little blindsided by this turn of events myself.

  Blindsided, but hopeful. And you know, I’m getting kind of used to that feeling, because it’s not all that different from falling in love.

  Chapter Seven

  So it’s finally time to go home, and I have to admit that I’m pretty happy to be blowing this town. Not sure I could have handled staying in Winchester much longer, especially not under the same roof as Maxwell’s family. An idiotic grin must be flash-frozen across my face after these past few days of working so hard to impress them all.

  No wonder I’m so damned relieved to be going, I think, as I spread my suitcase across Max’s bed. The sooner I’m packed, the sooner we’ll be hitting the road for L.A.

  And, of course, the sooner Maxwell will be back in my arms, with that beautiful bare body pressed hard against my own.

  Okay, now that thought is enough to inspire some seriously fast packing, so I begin folding my T-shirts double-time, right as I launch into a daydream that includes me dragging Max to the sofa the moment we enter our apartment.

  I’m to the part where I’m tugging off his T-shirt, touching him in places that his parents should never think about, when suddenly his velvet voice interrupts my little reverie.

  “Do you have room for these in your suitcase?”

  I blink, confused by the discordant image of him appearing in the bedroom, especially since what I’m really picturing is tearing those blue jeans right off his sinewy little body.

  Instead, he’s walking toward me, balancing a precarious tower of bridal magazines in his arms. No wonder I can’t suppress my laughter.

  “Oh, please,” I snort, shaking my head at him. There’s just something wrong with the image of Maxwell Daniels cradling stacks of Bride Beautiful against his chest.

  “What’s so funny?” He chews his lip, and I kind of wish I hadn’t given him shit about it.

  “Ah, hell.” I take half the copies out of his hands helpfully. “Makes perfect sense to me. Blushing bride, and all that.”

  “Oh.” He glances down at the magazines a little self-consciously. “They’re Leah’s. She thought we might get some good ideas from them.”

  “Uh, huh.” I toss a dubious glance at the glossy stack. Somehow, I have no problem imagining Max curled up beside me in bed every night, insisting that I look at foldouts of tuxedos and flower arrangements.

  The rest of the magazines slide out of his arms, as he bends low over the bed.

  Keeping Your Dream Guy Relaxed on the Big Day! Choosing a Honeymoon Destination to Last a Lifetime!

  For a moment I can’t help imagining the gay version of this spread. Bride or Groom? Which One is He Really? Or maybe, When His Folks Learn You’re Both Queer as Folk!

  “And look at this.” He sounds a little breathless as he pulls a CD out of one of the magazines. “It’s a computer program that tracks your wedding expenses.”

  Oh, no. Nuptials combined with financial software? It’s certain now—my baby’s headed straight for a massive hard-on.

  “Cool.” I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I’m in serious need of some coffee, especially with how late we all stayed up last night.

  Max steps a little closer to me, so that his lips brush close against my cheek. “Looking forward to getting back home,” he breathes, and I catch the faint aroma of his aftershave. “Well, not home, exactly. Just you, Hunter.”

  Uh, oh. Now I’m the one headed for the major hard-on.

  I gu
lp, feeling helpless beneath his moody gaze. “Can’t wait either,” I manage with a slight nod of my head.

  “I love you,” he murmurs against my cheek, stepping away. He pauses in the doorway for a moment and grins, kind of fluttering his eyes for emphasis.

  He’s practiced that maneuver, I’m sure of it, because every time he works it on me, I kind of come apart at the seams. He’s a goddamned eye fluttering genius, that’s what he is, and he’s going to pay for it later. I’ll be exacting my tax right between the sheets.

  “Love you too,” I mumble, ruing the way my jeans have begun tightening across the front.

  That lovely smile spreads across his face, and then he makes a point of allowing his glance to wander slowly down my front, until it stops right on the bulge in my pants.

  “Stop that.” I turn from him in a huff, tugging my T-shirt lower.

  “I’m not doing anything.” Pure innocence, that’s my baby. Angel all the way. “Let’s get packed so we can hit the road, though,” he says, becoming businesslike in his demeanor. “We’ve got a long way to go before we’re home.”

  Yeah, I know what business is on his mind. Same business that’s on mine; I need to get seriously lucky after these few days apart from him.

  And after this interchange with him? I need it pretty freaking bad, that’s for sure.

  “Thank you for Visiting Winchester”, the sign declares, and by the time we pass it, I can finally breathe again. Funny, but I didn’t realize I’d spent the past few days quite that on edge.

  But I feel good now, really good, and I think Maxwell does too. He’s riding beside me, flipping through a couple of the bridal magazines, and the contrast with the morose guy I brought into this town is just amazing.

  He’s glowing, literally, and that makes this farm boy glow all over, too.

  Of course, I already had a pretty good buzz from our big driveway send off. Max’s mother even hugged me, patting my cheek with her hand. Talk about an Aunt Edna maneuver—I’m beginning to think those two might share a DNA pool. But we won’t go there, because that thought’s just weird.