Resilience

by Tymber Dalton

  There, in their arms.

  With every thrust, Tom’s cock glided over his gland, pulling him closer to release. Tom nipped Tyler’s lower lip again, sucking on it. “I’m a patient man, sugar. You know what I want outta you.” His voice deepened. “It belongs to me, and we’ll be here all night if we have to. Be good for me and give it.”

  Between that, and the way the head of his cock rubbed between their bodies, it tripped Tyler over the edge, his cum exploding all over both of them in warm, sticky spurts.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Tom’s cock pounded into him as Tyler still gasped for air, his orgasm making his ass squeeze Tom’s cock.

  Tom’s grip on his hands tightened as he buried his cock deep inside Tyler’s ass with one last, satisfied groan before he fell still. He let out a deep breath, leaning in for a long, sweet kiss. When he released Tyler’s hands, Tyler wrapped his arms around him, not wanting to let him go.

  Never.

  Not wanting to think about one day in the future, if it wasn’t him who died first.

  Hoping it didn’t make him horribly selfish to want to be the one to die first.

  Knowing his soul couldn’t survive losing Tom or Nevvie.

  Tom rolled onto his back. Tyler got out of bed to clean up and bring back a warm, wet washcloth for Tom. And then, finally, back in bed, Tyler snuggled in Tom’s arms once more.

  “Better, buddy?” Tommy asked.

  “Always, love. You always make everything better.”

  “Love you, Ty.” His fingers stroked Tyler’s arm. “Don’t stuff this inside you. Let it out, let it out to me. I’m strong enough to hold you.”

  Ty pressed his lips to Tom’s flesh. “I promise, love.”

  He fell asleep with the feel of Tom’s breath brushing his scalp and his memories of Marcus brushing against his soul.

  Chapter Nine

  Despite his jet lag and exhaustion and pain Wednesday morning, Tommy lay awake in the strange bed with Tyler sound asleep in his arms as the grey light of dawn struggled to find a foothold around the bedroom curtains. The noises around them in the building, coming from other apartments, hit his ear as being wrong.

  Not home.

  It didn’t smell like their home. The air even felt different.

  It wasn’t their bed.

  Even though, technically, now it was.

  He knew he needed to get up and take another pain pill, now, so it’d have a chance to kick in and he’d be reasonably vertical and recovered from it by the time Goossens came to pick them up.

  But he couldn’t bear to disturb Tyler yet. Even in sleep, his face looked drawn, troubled. Not like he usually looked at home, where there was almost always the hint of a smile around his lips as he slept.

  The protective part of him wanted to tell Goossens to get everything together that needed to happen, handle it today, so they could fly home tomorrow.

  He knew that couldn’t happen.

  This needed to play out at Tyler’s speed, and after so many years of dealing with this emotional bullshit, Tyler’s speed would be glacial, at least for a couple of days.

  Tyler was a doer, a fixer. Even when he had no fucking clue what to do or how to do it, he was perpetual forward motion.

  When Tyler hit an emotional brick wall, it was serious.

  This was serious.

  Tom wasn’t so clueless that he didn’t know it, either. One of the memories that would accompany him to his grave was sitting on the floor in the kitchen of Tyler’s apartment that night so many decades ago, holding Tyler as he admitted most of what Marcus had done to him, why his trust was so easily shattered.

  Eventually, Tyler stirred. Tommy felt his guy’s body tense, then relax again, this time sinking into his embrace, pressing every bit of skin he could against Tom’s body and letting out a deep breath.

  Tom nuzzled his forehead. “Good morning, sugar.”

  “Good morning, sweet. Can I get you a pain pill?”

  Tom hadn’t been sure how to handle today. Now he knew. Letting Ty take care of him would help focus and ground his guy. “That’d be awesome, sugar. Thank you.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “It’s been worse.” Left unsaid the implication that, yeah, it was damn bad.

  Not that it was a lie, because it was damn bad.

  Tyler started to rise, then met Tom’s gaze for a long, quiet moment. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said in a defeated tone Tom hated hearing from his husband.

  “You’re stuck with me, buddy. We’re a team. We always have been.”

  While Tyler got a glass of water and his medicine for him, Tom rearranged the pillows and sat up against the headboard. The bed was comfortable, he’d give Marcus all due credit for that.

  The urn drew his gaze. Marcus must have looked at it every morning, first thing. And where it was positioned, on the way to the bathroom, he likely reached out and touched it every day.

  Struggling to find a healthy balance between empathy and hatred and satisfaction that the guy was dead and he got Tyler, Tom desperately wished Nevvie was there with them. If for no other reason than to help center Tyler.

  Today, Tom knew he’d have to let Tyler take care of him, focus on him. He wouldn’t have to fake his pain to distract Tyler, either. Walking up and down those fucking stairs wasn’t going to happen more than once that day.

  And it was going to hurt like a motherfucker.

  Tyler returned with the water and pill and Tom gratefully swallowed it down. After handing the glass back to Tyler, he carefully turned himself toward the side of the bed.

  “Not too proud to beg for help this morning, buddy, sorry.”

  “Oh, Tom. I’m so sorry, love.” Tyler sounded practically distraught as he leaned in to help Tom get vertical. He kept a steadying arm around him as Tom limped his way to the bathroom.

  “Not your fault, buddy. How about you go see if there’s a coffee pot and coffee, or strong tea or something, and get some started for us? Then come join me in the shower.”

  Tyler rose up on his toes to kiss him and rushed off to do it.

  Okay, so I’ll play dirty today.

  If it’d help his guy deal better, keeping part of Tyler’s focus on him, he’d do it.

  Tom was already in the shower when Tyler returned and joined him. “I found a coffeemaker in the cabinet. It’s working its magic now, although I daresay I don’t know how good the coffee is. I found a bag of grounds in the freezer.”

  He enveloped Tyler in his arms. “I’ll take it. After we do this, I’ll crash on the couch while you cook us breakfast, huh?”

  The hint of a smile from Ty, finally. “Absolutely.”

  “I wonder if we have Wi-Fi?” Tom didn’t need to get online, but it’d be nice if he could without blowing through all his data. Maybe Nevvie could Facebook live Mikey’s game Friday night. He hated missing two in a row.

  “I haven’t even checked my phone to see if there’s a signal.” Now that Tyler had a mission, a focus, he hurried to finish his shower before Tom and get started on it. “I’ll bring your cane and clothes in for you.”

  “Thanks, sugar. Maybe figure out the thermostat and warm it up a little in here? Enough to take the damp chill out of the air.” That was definitely contributing to his pain levels, he knew. Great for sleeping, but not so much if he wanted to be vertical and functional.

  “Roger.”

  Once Tom was alone in the shower, he breathed a sigh of relief. He hated manipulating Tyler like that, but at least Tom knew he could keep him moving, focused.

  Working toward getting through this instead of Tyler inventing a thousand reasons why he should feel like Marcus’ death was somehow his fault when, of course, it wasn’t.

  He finally climbed out of the shower and got dressed, stopping by the bedroom windows to open the curtains and stare outside.

  Yep, drizzly, dreary, grey, the air’s chill seeping through the glass to drag its shards along his nerves as he stared out at
the strange landscape. Tyler had made the bed before heading to the kitchen, and the room felt large, airy, but still foreign. Something between guest room and B&B, not a room that they actually owned. It wouldn’t start to feel like that until they redecorated and made it theirs.

  The three of them.

  The sealed envelope still lay on the dresser where Tom had left it. He thought about stashing it in his suitcase and hoping Tyler forgot about it, but that might be buying more trouble than just going through it now.

  Except…not right now. Breakfast and coffee first, and getting Tyler’s emotional feet under him that morning.

  He left the envelope there for later.

  On his way out of the bedroom, he snagged his phone and tablet and checked the charges. Still half on his phone, but his tablet was nearly dead. He sent Nevvie a good-morning text from his phone, found the power converter kit in his luggage, and headed out to the living room, leaning heavily on his cane. That wasn’t even faked at this point, the pain pill still not having kicked in yet. He hoped since he took it on an empty stomach it might work a little faster.

  The great room area looked brighter than it had yesterday upon their arrival, but the open curtains still displayed the dreary, grey day outside.

  He’d barely sat on the couch when Tyler rushed over with his mug of coffee. “Here you go, love.”

  Tom pulled him in for a kiss. “Thank you, buddy. Love you.”

  Tyler’s smile almost looked normal. “Love you, too, sweet. Let me get our breakfast prepared.”

  Tom settled in and reached for the remote controls, finally figuring out how to get the TV and cable to come on.

  Of course, the first few channels were in what he assumed to be Dutch or French, until he finally found the BBC and settled for listening to their morning news presenter rattling off items Tom had no knowledge or interest in.

  The cable box, and what looked like a modem, sat on a shelf next to the TV. Tom carefully levered himself back to his feet and walked over just to find a sticky note stuck to the side of the modem with the network name and password written there.

  Helpful.

  He took a picture of it so he’d have the info on his phone before he carried the sticky note back to the couch with him. There were electrical outlets in the floor on either side of the couch, where the table lamps were plugged into. Tom plugged his phone and tablet chargers into the converters and got both devices charging.

  A few minutes later, Tyler brought their food over while Tom was browsing through his e-mail.

  “Ah, we have Internet, I take it?”

  “Yeah.” He pointed at the sticky note. “Let’s put that back on the router after you get hooked in. Don’t want to lose it.”

  “Aces.”

  The first hints of the pain pill finally started sucking at Tom by the time they finished eating. Tyler wouldn’t let him help with the cleanup.

  While Ty was busy doing that, Tom headed to the bedroom, used the bathroom, retrieved the envelope, and brought it back with him to set on the coffee table. He didn’t want Tyler dealing with the envelope alone, whatever it contained.

  Then he stretched out on the couch to await Tyler’s return.

  * * * *

  Tyler had avoided the envelope that morning but didn’t miss when Tom left the living room after breakfast and returned with it a few minutes later.

  What fresh hell is this?

  Part of him didn’t want to deal with it, with this, with anything. Wanted to return home as soon as possible.

  Yet part of him wanted to take weeks examining every square inch of the flat and its contents, trying to decipher the man he’d barely known.

  A man who had made a bad decision that had scorched Tyler emotionally.

  For all of that, a man who’d shaped the majority of Tyler’s adult life in ways subtle and large. More years had since passed in his life than the actual age he’d been when he’d first met Marcus. Over an entire lifetime. Literally.

  Tom sat on the end of the couch, stretched out on it but propped up in the corner.

  He patted the couch, between his legs.

  The meaning clear.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, love.”

  “You won’t, sugar. Come here.”

  Moving carefully, Tyler settled there, his head resting against Tom’s chest, cradled against his body.

  “Let’s do this and get it over with,” Tom said. “Face the demon. It might just be information about utility bills and stuff.” He handed Tyler the envelope.

  “Or not.” He stared at it.

  “Or not. But we don’t know until we look. Unless you’d like me to do it for you?”

  Tyler sighed. “No. I should do it.”

  After opening the clasp, he finally eased a finger under the glued edge of the flap and carefully worked it open. The envelope’s contents slid out into his lap and he stared at them. On top, a handwritten note on a piece of yellow legal paper, the script matching the hand that had written his name on the outside of the envelope and answering at least one question—who had labeled it.

  Marcus.

  It was dated six weeks prior.

  Dear Tyler,

  Your kindness throughout the years humbles me and reminds me I am not a fraction of the man I wished I’d been in my life. I do not know how much longer I have, or if I’ll be able to see you before I pass.

  I have two major regrets in my life—that I hurt Jean-Claude by leaving him, and that I hurt you by returning to him. I think I made amends to him for the first, but doubt I can ever adequately atone for the second. I would not blame you if you never forgive me.

  I envy you your happiness, your family, your success, your loves. I’m sorry that I failed you so many years ago. You are a good man who deserved so much better from me, and your husband and wife are blessed lucky to have you.

  I’m sorry I did not reach out to you sooner, but I did not wish to intrude. I wanted you to have these back. I cherished your correspondence, and also did not want you to worry someone else might ever lay hands on a private part of your life.

  I’ve included a few other things I did not wish any others to have. Read or burn them, whatever you see fit. I did not have the heart to burn them before, because it was all of the very little I had left of him.

  May blessings and luck and fortune follow you and yours for the rest of your days.

  Always,

  Marcus

  It felt hard to breathe. He let Tom take the letter from him and read it as he stared down at his lap. Now he recognized the Christmas cards, other correspondence, including some family pictures he’d sent Marcus. Personal notes, nothing he wouldn’t want Tom or Nevvie to see, either. He hid nothing from them. There was nothing to hide.

  Marcus had saved it all, from when Tyler had allowed Marcus to reconnect with him following the confrontation in Seattle.

  As he finally reached down with trembling fingers to sort through the pile, he encountered the first unfamiliar object, a letter, written in a different hand. In French, it was addressed to Marcus and dated over thirty years prior.

  Signed J-C.

  Right. I don’t think that means Jesus Christ.

  There were quite a few more, over fifty items by his best guess, written by Marcus and by Jean-Claude. All in French. Some of them long missives, some short postcards, dating back before Tyler had met Marcus to just before Jean-Claude’s death. Tyler knew very little French, only enough to order a meal or ask where the loo was. And he wasn’t going to ask Goossens to translate, or find him a translator.

  He’d have to work on them later.

  Sorting them out from the rest, he tucked them into the envelope before looking at the remaining items. Sure enough, the things Tyler had sent him over the years.

  All of them.

  Tom rested his chin on Tyler’s shoulder as he looked at them. “Are you all right, sugar?”

  Tyler closed his eyes and tipped his head back against Tom. “I shall be
, love.”

  Chapter Ten

  Wednesday morning, Nevvie lay in bed and stared at the ceiling in the dim, grey light. Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but Zoey and Willow’s had. They were up and at each other, as usual. Their sibling bickering filtered through the walls to where Nevvie lay.

  I thought twins were supposed to get along good with each other. When the hell does that kick in?

  She could use the break.

  They were fifteen going on sixteen, and it was increasingly becoming a war zone in their house. Nevvie frequently found herself playing the part of parental NATO.

  If any of them wanted a moment’s peace that was.

  We could have five extra bathrooms and it still wouldn’t be enough.

  At least the fighting had quieted down over the past several weeks as they got used to their school schedule and settled into a routine.

  She spread her arms. The bed felt entirely too empty without her sweet love gods in it with her. She naturally gravitated to the center of it when it was just her, or backed up against whoever she was in bed with if one of them were missing.

  When all three of them were together, it didn’t matter who was in the center, unless one of them had been away from home, like Tyler.

  That person got the middle spot so the other two could cuddle against them.

  She pulled Tommy’s pillow to her and deeply inhaled. She’d changed the sheets just the other night, so none of the pillows smelled like Ty right now.

  That fact made her feel a lot sadder than she knew it should.

  She pulled her phone off the side table and into bed with her. She found a good-morning text from Tommy that he’d sent four hours earlier.

  We’re awake. Ty’s…dealing. Attorney at two local time so might be in a meeting when you read this. Love you. Hugs to everyone.

  Nevvie fought back a wave of emotions threatening to swamp her. Anger at Marcus for dragging Tyler to Brussels. Anger at herself for feeling so petty that she felt angry at a guy who was now dead.

  Anger at whichever of her children just slammed a fucking door, hard, making her jump.