by Ashlyn Kane
Cole followed her inside and took off his shoes, which he carried with him. “Do you need help with dinner?”
“Oh no, sweetheart. But if you wouldn’t mind—”
Cole was already at the back door, putting his shoes on again. “What’s on the docket this time?”
Without looking up from cutting the ends off the flowers, Gran answered, “Angelica, please. It’s been done long enough now that it’s gone to seed.”
He wouldn’t need the boline today, then; with angelica, they used the whole plant, roots included. “Spade in the garden shed?”
Gran nodded, and Cole went out the back door.
The garden shed had been built at the same time as the house, but it hadn’t been maintained the same way. The door hinges were rusty, some of the wooden paneling had rotted, and Kate and Cole had accidentally broken one of the windows when they were children, and now only a thick plastic sheet covered the opening. But the bare light bulb still flickered on when Cole pulled the cord—after which he grimaced and wiped the cobwebs on his jeans—illuminating a grim, dusty graveyard of tools older than his mother.
He didn’t see the spade right away. On the rickety shelf nailed to the wall were the bells the girls rang on Beltane. A filthy rake with a broken handle stood propped up against the remaining window.
Finally he found the spade; it had fallen onto its side on the floor and was hiding in the shadow of a derelict charcoal barbecue. But where was the cauldron? Gran had an ancient, rusty thing she used to keep out here for harvesting whole plants. More effective for retaining the plants’ power than a plain old plastic bucket. But Cole couldn’t find the cauldron, so the bucket it was.
Sometime when he hadn’t been paying attention, the end of September had given way to mid-October, and the air held a definite chill as Cole dug the blade of the shovel into the ground around the angelica. The first half of the plants he put whole into the bucket, shaking as much dirt from the roots as he could. The second half he laid on the ground and beheaded with the shovel before sprinkling the seed pods back on the ground for next year.
Then he stashed the shovel in the shed and brought the angelica up to the porch so he could wash it in the laundry tub. “All done,” he announced, toeing his shoes off outside the door. “Shall I hang them in the pantry?”
Gran looked up from peeling carrots. A roast, then—apparently she wanted to hold him hostage for a few hours. “No, downstairs, please, Cole. Angelica needs to dry a bit colder.”
Cole took the plants into Gran’s laundry room, just off the kitchen. After he cleaned them, he grabbed the roll of jute from above the laundry tub and turned to take the stairs down to the basement.
Sitting on top of Gran’s chest freezer, scrubbed clean of garden dirt, sat Gran’s cauldron, which had resided in the garden shed for as long as Cole could remember.
He bit his tongue and took the herbs down to dry.
“So,” Gran said cheerfully as they finally sat down to dinner, “your latest client. Have you made any progress with him?”
Cole barely resisted the urge to grit his teeth. “Getting there,” he answered, matching her tone. “I don’t think it’ll be much longer.”
Gran nodded.
Cole mercilessly speared a carrot. “Do you think,” he started, but he couldn’t decide how to finish the sentence.
“Yes?” Gran prompted.
Fuck it. “Do you think I’ll ever meet someone?”
Gran looked stricken.
“Because I would like that,” Cole went on, horrified when his voice cracked like a teenager’s. “I think I’m a good person. I try to help people. I recycle. Don’t I deserve to be happy?”
“Cole—”
But now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I don’t know what it is,” he said. “But ever since I was a teenager, ever since the very first time I had feelings for someone—you always told me I had to listen to what the universe was telling me. That it has a way of keeping things in balance. Well, I’ve listened. But it’s hard, Gran, and I need you to tell me: Am I supposed to be alone forever?”
Gran’s face was ashen, and the skin around her eyes had gone tight. He hated upsetting her. But God. God, he was tired, and lonely, and he wanted so much more than he’d been allowed.
Cole set down his fork. He couldn’t eat now anyway. “Julie got to find someone. And Aunt Hilda and Aunt June. Even Mom. I know you didn’t like Geoff, everyone knows you didn’t like Geoff, but—but the universe likes him. Likes them together.” He took a shuddering breath. “Everyone is allowed to have someone—except me.”
Gran’s face crumpled. “Cole… sweetheart. I know it’s lonely.”
“I just want to know why. Why not me?” The question felt like it ripped out of his chest, leaving his heart exposed, and before he could stop it, his most carefully hidden fear tumbled out of the wound. “Is it because I’m gay?”
“No!” Gran burst out, tears in her eyes. “No, Cole, I promise you, the universe doesn’t care about that.”
Cole wanted to believe her. He did. But she always knew more than she let on, and he was tired of being told to accept scraps. “But you won’t tell me anything else.” She never did. He pushed back from the table. “I’m sorry, I can’t… I can’t stay for dinner tonight, Gran.”
He made it to the car before his vision blurred completely, and he spent a miserable minute trying to staunch his tears on the sleeve of his T-shirt. But just as suddenly as the emotions had overwhelmed him, they fled again, leaving him clearheaded and determined. He couldn’t live his life to please anyone but himself. And he wasn’t going to live in fear anymore.
He hoped the universe would understand.
Chapter Sixteen
LEO was in the kitchen when Cole came in, determination burning bright within him. Niamh took one look at him and made her escape through the open kitchen window without so much as a by-your-leave, and Leo turned a curious look on Cole. He opened his mouth as though to ask a question, but Cole didn’t give him the chance.
“Do you ever miss dancing?”
Leo blinked, and his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and his cheeks pinked. “I… yeah, I do.”
“Good.” Wait, maybe Cole’s enthusiasm was getting away with him. He didn’t want Leo to think he was happy Leo was miserable. “Come out with me tonight.”
The lovely pink flush deepened and spread to Leo’s ears and neck. “Tonight? I thought… don’t you have dinners with your gran on Fridays?”
It was sweet that he remembered, but Cole didn’t want to think about Gran right now. “Not this week.” Despite Leo’s lack of answer, his determination didn’t wane. He didn’t know what cards Kate would have read for him, and he didn’t have her gift. But he was standing on the cusp of something tonight. They both were. “Come on,” he said again. “What do you say?”
He didn’t worry that the curse would prevent Leo from accepting. It had loosened enough; Cole could see it, could practically taste it. And when Leo ducked his head and smiled, quiet and almost bashful, before raising his head again and meeting Cole’s eyes, Cole knew.
Leo said, “All right.”
THROUGH some happy accident or miracle of foresight, Leo had actually picked up one of the polo shirts he typically wore clubbing when he’d swung by his apartment weeks ago. The thin material fit him like a second skin, and the color matched his eyes, not that most of his pickups would’ve noticed on the dance floor. When he put it on after a quick shower, his stomach tightened in anticipation.
Maybe tonight, finally. Cole had asked him to go dancing, and he’d said yes. Maybe the curse was breaking.
Cole must have been getting dressed in his bedroom, because he wasn’t downstairs when Leo finished in the bathroom. Niamh was, though, flitting from chair back to chair back in the kitchen, squawking when she saw Leo. “Well. You clean up nice.”
“Thanks.” Leo fought the urge to fidget. “You wouldn’t happen to know if this is… I
mean. Would it be okay with you if I… if Cole….”
Niamh crowed a laugh. “Sweetheart, if I had any objections to you dating my witch, I’d have run you off long before now.”
Leo flushed.
Before he could say anything, footsteps on the hardwood alerted him to Cole’s presence, and he turned around. Cole had put on dark-wash jeans and a touchably soft green T-shirt that bore an avocado and the slogan Rock Out With Your Guac Out. The peaks of his nipples refused to play second banana to the ridiculous slogan, which would have been distracting enough on its own. Cole himself looked sheepish, though: he gave Leo a once-over, and his ears and neck went red, and he stuffed his hands in his back pockets. Please don’t draw more attention to your chest, Leo thought wildly. “Wow,” Cole said. “Maybe I should change.”
Four months ago Leo might not have given Cole a second look. Now Leo needed him to understand Leo liked this version of him, with the silly T-shirts and the bad jokes and the heart of gold. “Don’t you dare.”
They both blushed until Niamh scolded them that their cab had arrived.
The town boasted exactly one gay bar, which reflected well on it, considering it didn’t even have a Starbucks. Not much reflected well on the bar, however, largely because it was too dirty to reflect anything.
Cole paid the driver and their cover, and they went inside.
Zippers took advantage of the lack of competition to boast sticky floors, an ambiance that reeked of cheap beer and too much cologne, and the sort of plastic chairs Leo remembered from high school classrooms. At least that would make cleanup easier, he supposed, if cleanup was in fact a thing that occurred at Zippers. But the bar took up one entire long wall, drinks cost half what they did in the city, and the DJ kept the dance floor packed with opportunities.
Leo loved this place.
“I’m gonna hit the bar,” Cole said, leaning close so Leo could hear him over the throbbing bass. “You want something?”
Leo wanted something, all right, but Zippers didn’t have it on tap. “Let me get it this time. Are you actually drinking?”
“I’ll take their sweetest cocktail,” Cole said, grinning.
Leo glanced around, but considering the volume, no one would overhear. “Not worried about mixing magic and booze?”
Someone bumped Cole from behind, knocking him into Leo’s chest, but it didn’t faze him. If anything, when he looked up at Leo with a hand between his pecs for balance, he positively smoldered. “Not tonight.”
It took Leo a handful of heartbeats to remember that he was supposed to be doing something. “Sweet drinks,” he said, turning toward the bar. “Coming right up.”
Cole smiled and disappeared onto the dance floor.
Like the last few times he’d been here, Leo had the slight handicap of being unable to flirt with the bartender. Fortunately Tanya was an old friend, or as old as it got for Leo in these parts, and she didn’t much appreciate male company anyway.
“Well, well, well. The cat came back.”
“I just couldn’t stay away.” Leo dug his wallet out of his pocket. “I need your sweetest cocktail, please. And my usual.”
Tanya raised an eyebrow as she snagged the grenadine. “Two drinks, huh? You back on the horse?”
Now there’s a choice of words. “We’ll see how tonight goes,” he hedged, not wanting to jinx it, and slid a twenty across the bar. “Thanks, Tanya.”
“Go get ’im, tiger.”
Leo took the drinks and went to look for Cole.
It was early still, and the club was only at half capacity. Leo found Cole dancing in a small group near the edge of the dance floor and sidled up behind him.
“Brought you something,” he said, leaning close to Cole’s ear.
Cole tilted his head back, and suddenly their bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip. He smiled, slow and lazy, and took the drink—easy to spot, since Leo was drinking gin and tonic and Cole’s was bright purple. The group fell away, and Cole swayed against Leo to the beat of the music vibrating through the sticky floorboards.
“Is it just like you remembered?” Cole asked, head still tilted so Leo could see his face.
He took a chance with the curse and moved his empty hand to Cole’s hip. “No,” he said honestly, then leaned the side of his face against Cole’s so he wouldn’t have to look when he added, “It’s better.”
Leo felt Cole smile against his cheek, and then he covered Leo’s hand with his and moved it low over his stomach.
For a handful of heartbeats, the blood rushing in Leo’s ears drowned out the beat of the music. All he could do was let Cole guide his body until the sense returned.
Even when it did, though, Leo followed Cole’s lead. They finished their drinks and discarded the glasses on the nearest table. Then Cole pulled him deeper into the thickening crowd of writhing dancers.
Other bodies moved against Leo’s now, but his attention never strayed from Cole: the heat of his body under Leo’s hands, the scent of his witchy soap and clean sweat, the sweet confidence with which he looked at Leo, inviting him closer. The sweep of his eyelashes. The red-purple stain of his mouth.
The beat changed and Cole turned, slotting one of his thighs between Leo’s and draping his arms around Leo’s neck. Leo slid his hands into Cole’s back pockets, peripherally appreciating the firm, round curves, but Cole’s eyes held him captive now, full of desire and promise. Leo thought the curse must be broken. The curse was broken and he’d fallen under a new enchantment, only this time magic had nothing to do with it.
Leo leaned down so their foreheads touched, and Cole drew him closer still. Another breath and their lips would brush. Leo held his breath in anticipation. Any moment now—
“Leo? Is that you? Holy shit, it is!”
Damn it.
Cole gave him a forgiving look as Leo raised his head. “Eric. Anton. Long time no see.”
Cole slid his hands down Leo’s arms, squeezed his hands, and excused himself to the restroom.
“I thought you didn’t like us anymore,” Eric said, looking pointedly after Cole. “But I see that’s not the case.”
“You’ve just found someone else you like better,” Anton finished shrewdly. “No wonder we haven’t seen you here. I bet he never lets you leave the house!”
Leo opened his mouth, ready to defend Cole, who wasn’t the jealous type, but Eric snorted.
“He never lets Leo leave?” he scoffed. “I saw how they were looking at each other. If they never leave the house, it’s because they can’t keep their pants on long enough. He looked like he wanted to devour you right there on the dance floor.”
I wanted him to. Leo gave them a strained smile and didn’t bother correcting their assumptions. “It’s good to see you guys. Maybe I can introduce you to Cole later?”
Anton and Eric exchanged glances. “Later?”
Leo couldn’t possibly get any warmer than he’d felt pressed against Cole on the dance floor, but he managed to flush anyway. “I don’t think we’re going to be sticking around much longer.”
Eric hooted with laughter, but Anton simply indicated over Leo’s shoulder; Cole had just emerged from the restroom. “Good for you,” he said, grinning as he shoved Eric into the writhing crowd. “Maybe we’ll see you around.”
LEO’S friends had gone by the time Cole returned from the bathroom. Excellent. Not that Cole would’ve minded meeting them, under different circumstances. But tonight he had other plans.
“Hey,” Leo said as Cole got closer, encircling his waist with both arms. His body was firm under Cole’s touch, but his eyes, his voice, the curve of his mouth were so, so soft.
Cole couldn’t wait anymore. “Shut up,” he murmured, raising his hands to Leo’s face. His skin was soft too, under Cole’s palms; he must have shaved after his shower. Leo didn’t move, barely breathed except to lower his eyelids.
Cole closed his too and kissed him.
At the first touch of their lips something fell into pl
ace. Leo tightened his hands on Cole’s waist and opened his mouth with a sound Cole couldn’t hear over the music in the club but felt down to his toes. A heartbeat later Cole traced his tongue over Leo’s bottom lip and into his mouth and moved his hands back, threading them into Leo’s hair, a tangle of warm, fine silk.
The lines of the curse flared green, the frayed length of it tightening, brittle. And then Leo sighed against him and it disintegrated and Cole felt that too, tilting his head deeper into the kiss as Leo slid his hands down his back.
When the kiss broke, Leo was watching him with wide, hungry eyes. “Cole.”
He shivered as the word went through him. “Let’s go home.”
It was early enough they didn’t have trouble getting a cab. But they didn’t touch in the back seat apart from the fervent clench of their hands together on the cracking vinyl. The car had barely stopped outside Cole’s house when Leo passed the driver a twenty and pulled Cole out after him.
They kissed when the front door closed behind them, with Leo the aggressor and Cole happily plastered against the wood. They kissed on the stairs up to the bedroom, knocking pictures askew as they tore at each other’s clothes. At the landing, Cole’s jeans tangled around his feet and he stumbled to his knees, and he and Leo dissolved into giggles. If the universe was trying to keep them apart, it would have to do better than that.
“Should’ve taken our shoes off downstairs,” Leo said, bending to try to undo his laces but hobbled by his own denim. “This is bad house-manners karma.”
Meanwhile Cole, kneeling, had worked his feet free and kicked his jeans off. “I forgive you,” he said, swatting Leo’s hands away from his shoes. Cole could do it faster—he dug his fingers into the laces and tugged until they loosened, Leo balancing with his hands on Cole’s shoulders. He toed off his shoes and Cole looked up, questioning.
When Leo nodded, Cole curled his hands into Leo’s waistband and pulled his jeans down.
That left Leo standing in formfitting black boxer briefs, his cock straining at the fabric. For a moment Cole forgot himself and stared, taking in the fine red-gold hair that led down from Leo’s navel and clung to the tops of his thighs. Cole cupped the backs of Leo’s ankles, intending to run his hands up slowly, take his time—but Leo slid his hands into Cole’s hair instead and pulled him to his feet.
