Always.
“I need you, Zach… you. Need you… need… you.”
“Fuck, yes. Micah.”
And then Zach was coming, too.
Micah reached up to touch him, to feel the shape of his face as it contorted into something bigger than pleasure or pain, something primal and raw and utterly, transcendentally beautiful. The hot rush of Zach’s release filled him up inside, Zach holding him almost too tightly as he thrust his way through it, repeating Micah’s name again and again, like a prayer. And when it finally ended, Zach wrapped him tightly in his arms, rolling them both to the side and kissing Micah like he wanted to inhale him.
Like he’d felt all the same things Micah had, too.
“You okay, baby?” Zach asked after a minute, brushing Micah’s hair back from his face and then kissing him again. Softer. Sweeter. Perfect.
Micah laughed, not wanting to move. Ever. Maybe not even able to. His body felt like it didn’t even exist anymore, except that it also felt so good that it must, right?
“No. Okay doesn’t even come close. Oh my God, we should do that all the time, Zach. It was amazing.”
Zach grinned at him, full dimple, and Micah felt something bright and beautiful whoosh through his heart, filling it up until it overflowed.
“Zach, I—”
He snapped his mouth closed, heat rushing through his face at what he’d almost said.
“You… what?” Zach asked, his more-than-blue eyes looking soft and tender, but somehow also bright and glowy at the same time.
I love you.
Micah bit his lip, his courage failing him. Their bodies were still joined, Zach’s softening cock just the gentlest pressure inside him, and Zach was running one hand up and down his back with a slow, firm touch that he didn’t ever want to end.
“Um, I want you to stay?” Micah said, since that was also true. “I know you have to get up early, but… could you? Please?”
Zach leaned in and kissed him, another soft, sweet one, and Micah could feel the familiar curve of Zach’s smile against his mouth, telling him the answer even before Zach said so.
“Can I tell you a secret, Micah? I’m pretty sure that I’m always going to say yes to you. I really don’t think I could deny you anything, baby.”
And then he was kissing him again. Holding him like they really were blending together, still separate, but more-than, too.
Like maybe Zach already loved him a little bit, too.
13
Zach
Zach hopped out of his truck, wanting nothing more than to get out of his utilities and grab a quick shower, but his priorities instantly changed when he caught sight of Ana García heading toward her apartment with a bag of groceries that—while not large—was clearly more of a burden than she needed.
“Ana,” he called out. “Wait up. Let me take that.”
He caught up with her, ignoring her protest as she relinquished the groceries with a grateful sigh.
“You know I’m happy to pick up whatever you need when I go to the store,” he reminded her. “You don’t have to do this.”
She patted his cheek. “You are a good man, mijo, but if I do not stretch these old legs once in a while, they might stop working.”
A big, scruffy-looking dog was nosing around her front door when they approached, and Zach frowned. It looked like part German Shepherd, part everything else, and Zach wasn’t sure he trusted it around Ana and her frailty.
It looked up and whined when it saw them coming, its mud-encrusted tail giving a tentative wag before getting tucked between its back legs, and Zach’s frown eased a little at the hopeful look in the dog’s big, brown eyes.
He’d always been a sucker for someone in need.
“Ah perrita, you are hungry today, no?” Ana asked, smiling at the dog.
“You have a pet now?” Zach teased.
“Este preciosa is no one’s pet, I think, but she has not come close enough for me to check her collar yet.” Ana leaned against Zach’s arm as they walked, pointing toward the bag he held. “Pull out some meat for her, mijo. She looks hungry.”
“Ana, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to feed her.”
“Pfft. There is always enough to spare a little, Zachary.”
The dog whined again, backing away until half her body was hidden in the spiny gooseberry bush, and Zach did as Ana asked, pulling out a small piece of pork as Ana unlocked her front door. Ana was right. The dog did look pretty neglected. She was wearing a collar, but as far as he could see, no tag.
Zach shook his head. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to be pet owners.
“You will need to put it down for her, mijo,” Ana said when he held out the pork for the stray. “She is… ¿Cómo se dice? Skittish. She will only take it when we are not here to watch.”
Zach frowned. “She looks too skinny,” he said, doing as Ana had asked, and then following her inside. “Have you called animal control?”
“No, no, what will they do? La preciosa is not bothering anyone, and animal control will be a death sentence if no one claims her in time.”
He shrugged, giving up on it as he headed into her small kitchen to unpack her groceries, then he grinned as he pulled them out and got a good look at everything she’d bought.
“You’re making tamales?” he asked, his stomach giving a loud grumble. Thanks to a group of poolees who had more testosterone than sense, the base hospital had been busier than it should have been and he’d ended up skipping lunch.
“Sí,” she said, putting her purse on the entry table and collapsing onto her couch with a heavy sigh that told him he’d been right to grab the groceries from her.
He made quick work of the chore while she caught her breath, then found a glass and filled it with ice water, bringing it over to her.
“Dios Mio, this heat,” she said, taking it gratefully. “Gracias, mijo.” Then she patted his stomach with a sly grin. “I heard this complaining earlier. You will come down and have some dinner with me later, no?”
“I’d love to, Ana, but I can’t tonight.”
And as much as he hated to disappoint her, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he said it. He was taking Micah to dinner, and he’d been looking forward to it all week.
To that, and to the fact that he planned on spending the night again so they could hit Mission Bay early in the morning.
Micah was ridiculously excited about riding the jet packs there—which was fucking adorable—and as much as Zach was looking forward to it, too, the truth was that seeing his boyfriend happy was almost more of a draw than the rush of flying over the Pacific with a set of rockets strapped to his back.
“Oh?” Ana asked, a familiar gleam appearing in her eye. “Tell me. You have plans already for tonight?”
Zach nodded.
“And are these plans with the same one you have been seeing so much of lately?”
“They are,” Zach said, smiling even wider. “His name is Micah.”
“Did I not tell you that my prayers would be answered?” Ana asked gleefully. Then her lips pursed for a moment before she gave in and laughed. “And yes, I know this one is a man, but I think you have found your spark, so I cannot argue with who He has sent you.”
“Me neither,” Zach said, leaning down to kiss her wrinkled cheek as his phone vibrated in his pocket. “And I need to get going if I’m going to pick Micah up on time. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go, Ana?”
“No, no,” she said, waving him off. “Go clean yourself up for your novio. I can tell he is good for you, Zachary. You look happy. It does an old woman good to see. Did I not tell you God would answer my prayers?”
“Thank you,” Zach said, grinning as he took his leave.
Ana had been right about the stray dog—both it and the meat were gone when he left Ana’s apartment—and she was right about Micah, too. Micah was a lot of things, and good for him was definitely one of them.
Zach
knew it was too early to be hopeful for the kind of forever he’d been looking for for so long—after all, they’d only been seeing each other for a little more than a month—but he couldn’t help it. And every time he tried to talk himself out of getting his hopes up—reminding himself how young Micah was, and how Zach was his first, and how unlikely it was that Micah would want to settle down when he’d just started really exploring what the world had to offer—he’d remember the way Micah touched him.
The breathy excitement in his voice whenever they were together.
The way those brilliant, pale eyes lit up, just for him.
And then Zach’s heart would ignore all the logical reasons it probably wouldn’t happen, and would start hoping for forever, anyway.
He pulled his phone out as he took the stairs up to his apartment two at a time, already smiling. He figured the notification that had come in while he was with Ana was probably from Micah.
He was wrong.
Zach paused outside his apartment, frowning down at the missed call on his screen. He didn’t recognize the number, but the only people he still knew in the 608 area code were his parents.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket, fishing out his keys and letting himself into the apartment as he debated whether or not to ignore the call, at least until after he’d showered. The chime of an incoming voicemail sounded, though, and he realized that putting it off wasn’t really going to help. He’d just stew about it until he found out what the call was about anyway, so he might as well get it over with.
It wouldn’t be his father, of course—John Pearce had never wavered about his lack of any desire for a relationship—but Zach did occasionally hear from his father’s assistant about financial matters. And his mother… he couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to her.
Had it been a year?
Longer?
He hung his keys on the little hook by the front door, kicking it shut a little more forcefully than necessary. He used to make it a habit to reach out on the expected occasions, making contact on his mother’s birthday and on major holidays. Letting her know when he deployed or returned stateside. He’d given up on that a while ago, though, and it had been years since she’d been the one to reach out to Zach without him calling first.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his mood already souring, and went to the kitchen to pull a cold beer out of the fridge. He wasn’t generally a big drinker, but something to take the edge off was always good when it came to his infrequent dealings with his parents. He twisted the top off and swallowed down a third of the bottle before finally tapping the voicemail icon.
An unfamiliar voice came from the speaker, a woman.
“This is Laura Williams with the Pearce Investment Group, calling for Zachary Hunter. We’ve been trying to reach you by mail, Mr. Hunter. Please return my call at 608-555-6789 at your earliest convenience. This is regarding your investment account.”
Zach snorted, taking another drink. He’d gone round and round for years about that account with his father’s long-time assistant, Ben Washington, but he’d never heard of Laura Williams. It was tempting to ignore the message altogether, but on the other hand, if his father had hired someone new, maybe Zach would finally be able to get his point across.
He didn’t want his father’s money, and he’d stopped wanting anything else from him long ago.
He hit the call-back button, putting it on speaker as he took his beer back to the bathroom to start the shower. Hopefully, the conversation wouldn’t take long, and then he could immediately wash the stench of it off and move on to the part of his evening he was actually looking forward to.
He tossed his phone onto the bathroom counter and started undoing the buttons of his utility shirt, realizing after the first couple of rings that, with the time difference between California and Wisconsin, it was probably too late to reach anyone at his father’s office tonight. No matter. He could at least leave a message so the whole thing wasn’t hanging over his head and spoiling his weekend.
To his surprise, though, the call was answered on the fourth ring.
“Pearce Investment Group, Laura speaking. Is this Zachary Hunter calling?”
“Yes,” Zach said, taking another pull from his beer. “I’m returning your call. I didn’t expect to catch anyone this late.”
She laughed. “You almost didn’t, Mr. Hunter. I was just on my way out the door after leaving that message, but when I saw your number on caller ID I didn’t want to miss the chance to speak with you. Your account is one of the last I have to transition in order to wrap up Mr. Pearce’s affairs.”
Zach paused in the act of raising the beer bottle to his lips again, an icy wave moving through his body. He put the beer down carefully and picked up the phone, taking it off speaker and holding it to his ear.
“What was that?” he asked, his pulse starting to pound.
“We tried to contact you by mail, Mr. Hunter, did you receive the letter regarding the disposition of your investment account?”
“No,” he said, his tongue feeling thick. He had received a letter though, hadn’t he? “I mean, yes. Maybe. I didn’t read it. What happened to Ben Washington? He’s usually the one I speak with.”
What had happened to Zach’s father? Because handling someone’s affairs usually meant—
“Ben is in charge of the transition for all of Mr. Pearce’s business accounts, and I’m working directly with the estate attorneys on everything else. And if I can be frank, Mr. Hunter, the details regarding the nature of your account aren’t entirely clear on our end. It looks like Mr. Pearce handled it personally, but you aren’t listed as a client of Pearce Investments…?”
Zach shook his head. Then realized of course she couldn’t see him, and managed to find his voice.
“No, I’m not a client. He… died?”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then, “I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. Yes, Mr. Pearce passed away last month, however, the monthly funds transfer to your account is automated, and it’s something that was stipulated as ongoing in his will. If you could just answer a few questions to help clarify the nature of this account, I can make sure it’s put in the correct hands on our end.”
Zach sat down on the side of the bathtub, not at all sure how he was supposed to feel about his father’s death. A distant part of him registered that he was exhibiting physical signs of shock: his skin had gone clammy, and both his heart rate and breathing were elevated.
There was a ringing in his ears, and even though he could hear Laura Williams’ words, he wasn’t really registering their meaning.
“Were you aware of this account, Mr. Hunter? Because our records indicate that you haven’t touched the balance or given reinvestment direction since its inception eleven years ago. In fact, it took me a bit to track down your contact information at all, since you aren’t officially in the firm’s database.”
His father had never been a part of his life, so really, nothing had changed just because he was gone.
“Mr. Hunter?”
And other than making a few rich people even richer, as far as Zach knew, John Pearce hadn’t contributed much to the world.
His death was really no loss.
He wouldn’t be missed. At least, not by Zach.
“Mr. Hunter? Hello? I’m sorry, did I lose you?”
Zach blinked. “No. Sorry, I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “How did he die?”
A month ago? And no one had thought to tell him? Not that it should surprise him. Didn’t surprise him, really… but for no good reason at all, it still hurt.
“It was a heart attack,” Laura said, her brisk, professional tone softening a bit. “I do apologize for being the one to break the news to you. There’s really not much information in your file at all, so I’m not sure what the nature of your—”
“He was my father.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God. Oh my—I’m so sorry, Mr. Hunter. I ha
d no idea. I never would have—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted, reaching for the beer bottle and pressing the cool glass against his forehead. “There was no reason for you to.”
“But…” She paused, swallowing audibly. “Clearly this isn’t the right time to go over your account details, Mr. Hunter. It can wait until you’ve had time to, uh, process this news. Please accept my condolences for your loss. We can speak next week, if you’re up to it.”
“It won’t be necessary,” Zach said, feeling numb. “I don’t want the money. I never did.”
She cleared her throat. “Legally, it’s yours, and the estate will continue to pay into it—”
“I don’t want it, Ms. Williams,” he snapped. He took a breath. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just doing your job.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter, truly. For your loss, and for my insensitivity. May I call you next week?”
“Sure,” he said, just to get her off the phone without being any more of an asshole. “Thank you.”
He ended the call, then stared down at the dark screen while he finished the last of the beer, waiting to feel something that made sense. When that failed and the bottle was empty, he headed back to the kitchen, intending to get another one. But then—even though he’d sworn off hard liquor a few years ago, after a night of overindulging had left him with a worse-than-death hangover and an unplanned tattoo on his ass—he pulled out a bottle of Stagg whiskey someone had given him instead.
He poured a shot, scrolling through the contacts on his phone and hitting the call button for his mother as he downed it. He hissed when the whiskey hit his stomach like a bolt of fire, listening to the line as it rang and waiting for the alcohol to help.
It didn’t.
“Did you know he’s dead?” Zach asked as soon as Karen Hunter answered, not bothering with a greeting.
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, then, “Who is… Zach? Is that you?”
He shook his head, snorting in disbelief. Did she honestly not have her own son’s number saved in her phone?
Looking For Love (Semper Fi, The Forever Faithful Series Book 2) Page 15
