by Tinnean
“Music was our language. It was our hallmark, and it’s one of the things that we’ve preserved here, for you.”
He spoke some more. He talked about his family, his gentle mother, his shy, kind father, and his irrepressible little sisters. He talked about Melody, and the sacrifice she had made to make sure that one person—her little brother—survived to tell their story, to make sure the colony survived, even beyond the explosions that wiped it out of existence.
“I didn’t know what to make for the memorial,” Anderson finished. “But C.J. said to make it personal. I know that there are thousands of smaller colonies scattered out between here and the Cancer Nebula, and I know that there are fatalities every year that will simply be lost in the void of space. But all of those people, I think the one thing they had in common was people to care about them, and that’s why I put my family here as a memorial. This is to commemorate loss in the vastness of space. I know it’s hard to believe, but every mortal soul is missed.”
He finished speaking, and there was a silence, and then the crowd erupted into tearful applause. Anderson beamed out at them, dry-eyed, and then looked out to C.J., who was not so dry-eyed.
Okay, he thought as the grief for his family finally settled into his heart like a comfortable blanket. Okay. The world knew what he had lost. It was no longer a terrible wound festering in his own heart. Now he could move on.
THAT NIGHT after the reception, he and C.J. lay with the covers shoved down to the foot of the bed and all of the windows open to let in a cooling breeze as they recovered from their lovemaking. C.J.’s dark skin was still paler than the night and his dark blue coverlet, and his light green eyes picked up the light of the three yellow moons as they slivered in through the windows. He looked… amazing, beautiful, and other-worldly. His high-cheekboned apple-cheeks gave him the absolutely wicked air of a child who had done something unforgivably rotten.
The thought made Anderson grin smugly. Well… it had been bad, but it certainly hadn’t been rotten. C.J.’s body was marked, inside, outside, every side, with Anderson’s blatant possession, and Anderson was proud of it.
Of course, Anderson’s body was marked in a similar way, right down to a love bite at his collarbone that proclaimed to any other Lens out there that Anderson was officially claimed.
“So,” C.J. said now, “you said something about getting married?”
Anderson laughed. “You mean when I was up in front of two hundred people and you couldn’t argue with me?”
C.J.’s smile was perfectly content. “I wouldn’t have argued, oh mighty man-leader, but I’m thinking you’ve got something in mind.”
“Yeah,” Anderson told him. “I figured a small ceremony before we go up to the station at the end of leave.”
C.J. rolled over onto his stomach and raised his eyebrows. “We? As in both of us?”
Anderson nodded and placed random kisses on C.J.’s shoulder, his ear, his cheek. “Yeah—now that the foundation’s been established, your dad can run it and ask me questions by monitor, and you and me, we can… you know. Work. Live. Have a life. A real one, together.”
For a moment, C.J. looked concerned. “What about therapy? Jensen, Molly—do they know about this?”
Anderson nodded soberly. Dealing with the change in routine was going to be a challenge—but Jensen thought he was up to it. “I’ve been cleared for the vid screen. For three months, as long as they get me in the morning, my ass is yours noon and night.”
C.J.’s smile was dazzlingly white, even in the light of the two yellow moons. “Aw, sweetie, that’s almost a romantic proposal or something. Which job are you taking?”
Anderson’s grin was one hundred percent little kid, and he knew it. Hell, he figured he was due. “The one at the hub.”
C.J. laughed, his naked body balling up as he hugged a pillow to his stomach and chortled until his stomach was probably sore. “Perfect,” he gasped. “Absolutely perfect. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”
Anderson’s smile relaxed, grew serious, and he studied C.J. with a suddenly tight throat. “Good,” he said. “Because I waited long enough for you.”
C.J. rolled his eyes. “You waited to land, baby. I was just a perk.”
Anderson shook his head, absolutely positive that he was right in this and C.J. was wrong. “No. If I had landed with anyone else, I’d still be lost in the space of my head. C.J., you’re the only person on the planet who could find me when I didn’t even know I was missing.”
C.J. grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his shoulders. “You overestimate me, Anderson, but that’s okay. You keep doing that, and I’ll keep living up to it. We’ll be fine.”
“Don’t look so worried!” Anderson chided, and C.J. bundled closer into the blanket. Anderson didn’t like that at all. He tugged on the blanket and insinuated himself over C.J.’s slightly larger body. Anderson wanted to be the blanket. It was the least he could do.
“I don’t ever want to let you down,” C.J. whispered.
“Impossible,” Anderson whispered back. “Now kiss me so you can get it up and nail me into the bed, and then tomorrow, we can figure out how to get married on your planet so no one else feels like they can just move in on your turf.”
C.J. grinned then, and the moment lightened. “Now that’s something I can do!”
THE MONTH passed quickly, and the ceremony too. It was small—a civil ceremony, since most religious practices on Hermes-Eight were personal ones celebrated among families and not in the public venues anyway. The union was notarized and recorded in a civil court and then celebrated in C.J.’s backyard with C.J.’s parents, Jensen and Molly, Cassie and Marshall, and a few other close friends, including Julio, who had come planetside especially to attend.
The next day they were giddy, and a little bit hungover, and they barely made the shuttle as it was preparing to launch.
Julio laughed at them as he held the door so the flight attendant could get to his other duties. “You two, geez, whose idea was it, anyway, to get married and then fly straight to work.”
“His!” C.J. laughed. “But I agreed, so I can’t complain!”
“I just wanted a ring on his finger before he got back to the station,” Anderson said grumpily. He’d heard enough stories from Jensen in the past month to want to make damned sure that C.J. was claimed in front of every species that ventured into Anderson’s territory. He knew it made him more Alpha than he was used to, but at this point he didn’t care. C.J. was his. There was no other option.
“Well, settle in, you two, we’ve got twelve hours during which you can’t get naked. I know it’s going to be a hardship, so brace yourselves.”
From behind Julio, Cassidy giggled, the sound muffled against her husband’s chest. They were returning, too, and Anderson was looking forward to having family around him as he settled into his new life.
C.J. flipped his family off and settled into the window seat, ignoring Anderson’s, “Hey!” in protest.
“You can look over my shoulder,” C.J. said, then grinned. “You can sit closer that way.”
Anderson raised his eyebrows and they settled in, both of them tired and clearly planning to nap once the shuttle cleared Hermes-Eight-Prime.
“Hey,” said Julio as he settled in himself. “I forgot to ask you two. Where’s Anderson working stationside? You never said!”
“Now that’s not right!” C.J. admonished, and Anderson grimaced.
“Jeez, Anderson,” Cassidy chided. “Isn’t Julio the reason you got the job?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s true. I should have thanked you already!” Social niceties—they were never going to come easy.
“You’re welcome. So what are you doing?” Julio asked avidly, and Anderson grinned. He couldn’t help it. It was every boy’s dream job, and damned if he hadn’t earned it.
“One of the hub’s entertainment companies hired me. I’m going to design a holo-amusement park for the hub.”
Julio laugh
ed from the stomach, honestly amused. “That is far too much fun for you, my man. We’re going to have to pull you up to the station for some real work.”
Anderson shook his head. “Nope, I’m not gonna let ya!”
C.J. grinned over his shoulder. “Don’t do that, Jules. See, the thing is, we spent my entire leave on ‘research trips’, and we get cut-line passes and everything.”
“Aww!” Julio groaned, clearly disgusted by that much fun being had by two grown men. “You two, go away. I’m not speaking to you. Next time, you’d better fucking invite me!”
They laughed, giddy with expectation, when the intercom came on and they fastened their gravity belts to get ready for take-off.
“You nervous?” C.J. asked, and Anderson realized abruptly that this was the first time he’d taken off in a shuttle since his sister had thrown him on one nearly thirteen years ago in order to save his life.
He thought about it, then shook his head. “No,” he said somberly. “Not even a little.”
“No?”
“No.” He leaned over and gave C.J. a kiss on the cheek. “This time, I know exactly where I’m going and who I want with me. It’s not a dream, baby. You’re all real.”
C.J. smiled softly. “Believe it.”
Anderson did. The shuttle engine whined, and the small craft started to rattle as it maneuvered into place to take off. Anderson held C.J.’s hand and looked out the window—he could hardly wait for the wheels to leave the ground.
Stationside, planetside—it didn’t matter where they were. As long as C.J. was with him, he knew he’d landed home.
AMY LANE is a mother of two college students, two grade-schoolers, and two small dogs. She is also a compulsive knitter who writes because she can’t silence the voices in her head. She adores fur-babies, knitting socks, and hawt menz, and she dislikes moths, cat boxes, and knuckle-headed macspazzmatrons. She is rarely found cooking, cleaning, or doing domestic chores, but she has been known to knit up an emergency hat/blanket/pair of socks for any occasion whatsoever, or sometimes for no reason at all. Her award-winning writing has three flavors: twisty-purple alternative universe, angsty-orange contemporary, and sunshine-yellow happy. By necessity, she has learned to type like the wind. She’s been married for twenty-plus years to her beloved Mate and still believes in Twu Wuv, with a capital Twu and a capital Wuv, and she doesn’t see any reason at all for that to change.
Website: www.greenshill.com
Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Facebook: www.facebook.com/amy.lane.167
Twitter: @amymaclane
By AMY LANE
Behind the Curtain
Beneath the Stain
Bewitched by Bella’s Brother
Bolt-hole
Candy Man
Christmas with Danny Fit
Clear Water
Do-over
Food for Thought
Gambling Men: The Novel
Going Up!
Grand Adventures (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Hammer & Air
If I Must
Immortal
It’s Not Shakespeare
Left on St. Truth-be-Well
The Locker Room
Mourning Heaven
Phonebook
Puppy, Car, and Snow
Racing for the Sun
Raising the Stakes
Shiny!
Sidecar
A Solid Core of Alpha
Super Sock Man
Tales of the Curious Cookbook
Three Fates (Multiple Author Anthology)
Truth in the Dark
Turkey in the Snow
Under the Rushes
Wishing on a Blue Star (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Keeping Promise Rock
Keeping Promise Rock • Making Promises • Living Promises • Forever Promised
Johnnies
Chase in Shadow • Dex in Blue • Ethan in Gold • Black John
Granby Knitting
The Winter Courtship Rituals of Fur-Bearing Critters
How to Raise an Honest Rabbit • Knitter in His Natural Habitat
Blackbird Knitting in a Bunny’s Lair
Talker
Talker • Talker’s Redemption • Talker’s Graduation
Anthologies
The Granby Knitting Menagerie
The Talker Collection
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
I would like to dedicate this work to my mother Susan, my surrogate mother Lourdes, and dear friend Pat Marchand. Without you, none of this would be possible.
“WILLIAM DRAKE?” the harsh tone of a man’s voice asked.
“Yes,” Will answered cautiously.
“Are you Katrina Drake’s brother?”
The question startled him. “Is she okay? Is there something wrong? Has she been hurt?” As much as he disliked and distrusted his sister, he couldn’t handle hearing that she had been hurt or worse.
“She’s fine,” the man cut in quickly and not too gently. “Are you aware that she plans to marry Martin Hunter?” The man sounded very upset, but Will didn’t have a clue as to why.
“No, I haven’t spoken with my sister in quite some time,” Will said cautiously. “What does it have to do with you? Who are you?”
“She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with,” he said sharply. “If she thinks she can carry out this blackmail, then she’d better think again.” He was serious and angry. His voice had taken on a deep, threatening aspect.
“What are you talking about? What blackmail? What is she doing?” Will scrambled for clarification.
“Oh, don’t be coy with me, Mr. Drake. Katrina said that it was all your idea!” He was yelling now.
“My idea?” he yelled back. He was not going to be brought into this. Whatever his sister was up to had absolutely nothing to do with him. “I haven’t spoken to my sister in almost two years. After our parents died, we went our separate ways. So don’t you dare try to make me a party to this… whatever it is! If you have a problem with Katrina, then I suggest you take it up with her.” He was furious now. This man had no right to be shouting at him.
“You, my dear, had better speak with her before she does get hurt. She will marry Martin over my dead body.”
Will tried to lighten his attack but found it impossible. He felt that this man might be telling the truth, but that didn’t lessen his desire to have him take responsibility for the situation and therefore resolve it. “I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t really care.”
With that, Will slammed the receiver down. How dare he speak to him like that? Will had nothing to do with it. The man had left him angry and upset but also cautiously curious as to what Katrina had been up to. He didn’t sound like someone Will would want to have as an enemy. I wouldn’t want to be in Katrina’s shoes right now, he thought. Apparently, the man wasn’t happy about Katrina’s impending wedding. But what is it to me? he wondered. He found that he was still staring at the phone long after he’d hung up. It didn’t matter; it was not his affair. Katrina was a big girl, and she was well able to take care of herself. “It isn’t my place to save her,” he thought out loud. “Katrina has survived for the last two years without my involvement in her life and she can continue to do so.”
William walked out onto the beach with his dog, Todd, a beautiful but intellectually challenged Labrador retriever. He needed to get some air after the upset of that phone call. He had no idea who the man even was, and yet, he left an impression that was hard to shake.
It was the threat in his tone that had put Will on edge. Rarely did anyone speak in a manner that left you knowing without a doubt that they were serious and capable of carrying out exactly what they said. This man, Will knew even without seeing, was serious and capable. How did he get my phone number? Why is he pulling me into this? Why did he call, and what does he expect from me?
These thoughts ran through his mind as he watched a freighter out in the distance. “Katrina is not my responsibility,” he said out loud. “Her business is her own, and so are her enemies.”
He decided to stop thinking about Katrina and the man on the phone, and with a sigh of resolve looked out across the large expanse of Lake Superior. Standing there, surveying his life, he realized he had a comfortable existence. At age twenty-four, he owned his own home and seven wooded acres at Whitefish Point, not far from Lake Superior.
Will had lived on his own since graduating from high school. He’d decided that the University of Michigan was the best school for him, and so lived in a dorm room for the four years it took him to complete his degree in accounting. It was a decision that had haunted him ever since the car accident that took the life of his parents. Perhaps if he had stayed closer to home in East Lansing, he would have had more time to spend with them, but those were thoughts that inevitably lead to depression, so he pushed them aside. No one could recreate their past, so going forward was a person’s only option.
Will was left with only this piece of property from his parents’ estate. They had used it as a vacation getaway. Will would often escape to Whitefish Point and spend weekends and holidays here alone, which brought back depressing memories of time away from his parents, so again he pushed them away. Will considered himself an expert on pushing away anything that was uncomfortable or painful to think about. There were days when he had to nearly shut down emotionally in order to function; guilt and bitterness could be very crippling.
The rest of the estate, in its entirety, went to his younger sister, Katrina. She had inherited more than one million dollars along with all the other property. At the time, the obvious slight had made it tense and unsettling, but over the past two years, he had tried to understand his parents’ reasoning. His parents never fully accepted his sexuality and therefore chose Katrina over him. Will and his sister were never close, so after the funeral, they parted ways and hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since.
