Clean Slate

by Heidi Champa

  Clean Slate

  By Heidi Champa

  Wes Green keeps everyone at arm’s length, either by pushing buttons or simply pushing them away. When that doesn’t work, Wes runs, as far and as fast as he can. This time, bolting from his boyfriend also costs him his professional organizing job. His last resort is to retreat to his brother’s basement and try to pick up the pieces. The only bright spot in his new life is his niece, Kelsey.

  One day, while in Kelsey’s school drop-off line, he meets Sam Montgomery, the father of Maya, Kelsey’s best friend. When Wes finds out Sam is gay and interested in some no-strings-attached fun, Wes thinks he’s hit the jackpot. With boundaries firmly in place, keeping Sam at a distance should be easy.

  What starts out simple quickly gets complicated when fun turns to feelings between Wes and Sam. But the baggage both men carry threatens to stop things before they start. Can Wes stay put long enough to find real love, or will old habits be too hard to break?

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  By Heidi Champa

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  “NICE PLACE,” he said, his hand leaning on the doorjamb.

  “Thanks.” I pulled out my wallet.

  He scanned the foyer, his eyes moving quickly over the art on the walls and the lacquer table that held a gorgeous blue glass bowl. Nick bought it so we had a pretty place to store our keys. He was tired of me throwing them directly onto the table’s shiny finish. Every now and then, I still forgot. Nick would simply pick them up and drop them into the bowl without a word. The sound always made me jump.

  “Anyway, one medium pizza; that’ll be eight bucks.” His eyes were focused on mine again, and he winked at me, casual as you like. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the guy was trying to flirt. Or get a better tip.

  “Here you go, man.”

  The pizza guy took the twenty-dollar bill from me and reached into his pocket, ready to make change.

  “Oh, I don’t need any change. Have a good night.”

  His eyes widened, and then he smiled.

  “Dude, thanks. That’s super cool of you.”

  “No problem.”

  He lingered for a moment, the transaction clearly over, but something kept him in place.

  “You’re really cute, you know.” His smile slid into a smirk.

  “Thanks,” I said, hoping it would end the conversation. No such luck.

  “You, uh, you busy right now? I’m off shift, and uh, I was wondering what you were up to.”

  My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I actually considered his hasty proposition. But then sense returned.

  “Yeah, I’m a little busy, actually. Plus, my boyfriend probably wouldn’t like that,” I said, as casually as I could.

  The pizza guy deflated a bit, but he pressed on.

  “He’s not here now, is he?”

  I shook my head. I had to admire his persistence. He even reminded me a bit of me. Back when I did such things.

  “Sorry, man. I shouldn’t… I mean, I can’t.”

  He smiled, his hand sliding into his pocket.

  “Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying, right? I mean, you’re hot.”

  “Thanks. Again,” I said, sheepishly.

  I never did tire of hearing I was hot. He inched closer, the smell of his overzealous cologne mixing with the pepperoni.

  “Thank you. And, hey, if you ever find yourself free, you know where to find me.” He winked again as he turned and walked away.

  I shut the door, leaning against it for a moment before heading to the kitchen and setting the pizza on the fancy countertop. I didn’t believe in signs, but somehow the pizza guy hitting on me felt like one, reinforcing that I was making the right decision. I pulled a slice out of the box and ate it quickly. When I was done, I wiped my hands on my old jeans and returned to the bedroom. I had more work to do if I was going to be finished before Nick got home.

  I TAPED the bulging top of the box closed. I’d filled it a bit too full because I was worried I wouldn’t have enough containers to get the job done. But I stressed for no reason. There would be more than enough space to hold my kitchen trinkets and toiletries. The five boxes I’d stolen from work had been just enough to hold everything I’d accumulated while living with Nick. All of my worldly possessions were packed and ready to go. As I surveyed the place, it became obvious that I’d barely made a dent in my surroundings. My absence would be hardly noticeable, except that I would be gone. But it was better this way. Nick would see that, in time.

  When he first asked me to move in, I’d hesitated. Honestly, I’d never imagined Nick and I would get that far. He was a smart guy, and I’d thought for sure he’d see through me long before anything serious happened. But as the months went by, Nick had opened his heart to me without reservation. He’d talked about the future just a few weeks into our relationship and casually brought up marriage after three months together. I’d gone along with it, mostly because there wasn’t a good enough reason not to.

  Nick was the kind of guy I was supposed to be looking for: smart, successful, and funny. From the start, I’d never felt comfortable or like I could be myself around him. The more I’d become who Nick thought I should be, the more he fell for the new, shiny version of Wes I was when I was with him. But it wasn’t really me. While playing the part of the dutiful boyfriend was exhausting, I kept telling myself that it was worth it. Nick was great, after all. There was no legitimate reason on earth for me not to want to be with him. Except that I didn’t want to be with him.

  In my head, moving in was the perfect way to end things. I would have more time to push him to the brink and force his hand. Once Nick saw what living with me was really like, he’d run for the hills. Or so I thought. Instead, having me in such close proximity seemed to make him all the more sure I was the one. He was forgiving of all my bullshit, even when I went out of my way to get under his skin. No matter what I did, he didn’t get mad. Our fights weren’t even really fights, but rational discussions about what was “really going on” with me, with us. Arguing with Nick reminded me of arguing with the shrink I’d had when I was a teenager. It seemed there was no making him mad. And believe me, I’d tried my best.

  We’d cuddle on the couch, make dinner together, and fall asleep saying “I love you.” Well, Nick would say it. I could never muster up the desire to say it back. Then we’d get up and drive to work together. Nick was in heaven, and I was ready to jump out of my skin. That’s when I had the brilliant idea to cheat on him. If anything would break us up, that would.

  Opportunity struck one night when Nick had called to say he’d be late due to a last-minute client meeting, thus breaking his special dinner plans with me. I’d looked around at the food I’d been cooking for him and felt adrenaline surge through me. I knew it was my chance to deliver the deathblow to our relationship. I’d abandoned the stupid, fancy food I didn’t even want to eat and changed my clothes, heading out to the closest gay bar. At first, I’d told myself I was just there to get a drink. That I just wanted to feel normal again, not like some househusband whose man was too busy for him. But as guys started cruising me, my plan quickly came together.

  After a few drinks with a handsome stranger
who may or may not have been named Doug, I’d been all set to pull the trigger. But when he suggested taking things to his place, I couldn’t go through with it. If I’d been single, I would have done it in a heartbeat. Hell, there was a time that, even with a boyfriend, I would have thought nothing of fucking a stranger just because I could. This was different. Nick deserved better than my infidelity, but he also deserved better than me. I wanted out, but not that way. I’d bailed on Doug, much to his chagrin, and headed home. Guilt overtook me on the way. I’d hated myself for how close I’d come to cheating. However, in the dark, in the back of the smelly taxi, my new plan came to life. Nick seemed to need undeniable proof that I wasn’t the guy for him. And I was going to give it to him by doing what I always did. Run away.

  Nick was gone on business the whole weekend, giving me plenty of time to get my stuff together. By the time he returned the next day, I’d be out of his life. Literally. I put the last of the boxes into the backseat of my car and slammed the door shut. With a sigh, I stared through the window, my whole life fitting in the back of my four-door Volkswagen. Strolling back into the building, I got on the elevator and leaned against the gleaming metal wall, trying to keep my heart from racing. I was almost done. The only thing left upstairs were my clothes in the dresser.

  Before I could pull a drawer open, my eyes settled on the silver frame that held the photo of my sister, Michelle, and me. It was an old photo from when I was sixteen. We looked so happy. It was an amazing day, the picture capturing us midlaugh. I walked by it every day but never really looked at it. It was one of the few personal things I’d kept on display at the apartment. Nick had asked me about her a few times, but I could never bring myself to tell him the truth. I ran my finger over the glass, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me.

  “This is your fault, you know.”

  Michelle’s smiling face should have made me happy, but in that moment, it was making me well up with tears.

  “I miss you so much. Why did you have to die and leave me behind?”

  I wiped away the stray tear that managed to escape. With a sigh, I set the photo on the bed and yanked open the top drawer. I absentmindedly took my stuff out and shoved it into my suitcase, trying to cram it all into the one bag I had. I didn’t want to have to find something else to put my old sweaters in. Luckily, with a little wrangling, it all fit, and the zipper closed with only a bit of a struggle. I slipped the photo into the front zipper pocket of my bag and looked around the room.

  I could picture the day I’d moved in. Nick had made such a production of clearing the space for me, shuffling his enormous wardrobe around to make room in his life for me. He never let me forget it either. He reminded me often about the fact that his closet space was cut in half, that his dresser drawers were full to the point he could barely close them, while I had more than enough space. My taste in clothing was much more utilitarian. I didn’t see the need for Armani suits or things like that, mostly because I couldn’t afford them. After all, Nick was the one who owned his own company and had a generous trust fund from his father. I was just another employee and a broke one at that.

  I wheeled my suitcase to the front door, balancing the pizza box on top. Slowly, I walked around, making sure there wasn’t anything left behind. I had done a thorough job, just like I did for my clients at work. Being a professional organizer had its advantages. It made me realize how unimportant most possessions really were, and that knowledge made my life portable. Just the way I liked it. With one last glance around and a sigh, I put my hand on the doorknob to leave. My eyes bulged as I felt it start to turn, the metal twisting under the light pressure of my hand. My heart stopped, as did my feet. I almost forgot to take a step back as the door pushed into me. Nick pulled his key from the lock, and he smiled when our eyes met.

  “Surprise! I came home early,” he said, his voice in singsong.

  He pulled me into a hug, but I remained stiff, not that he seemed to notice. He strolled inside, talking a mile a minute about his trip, pulling his bag behind him. He stopped dead when he saw my suitcase. His eyes narrowed, and I knew I was trapped.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Well… you could say that.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  I stayed silent, having no idea how to answer him. He wasn’t supposed to be home. I thought I had more time. I swallowed hard as Nick’s voice struggled to stay calm.

  “Wes, what the hell is going on?”

  “Um….”

  CHAPTER 2

  I SAT on the couch while Nick paced the floor in front of me, the lights of the city glowing behind him. He’d finally come out of the bedroom after spending nearly an hour in there alone. He didn’t answer me any of the times I knocked. Now he paced, looking at me periodically, then looking away, shaking his head. He would open his mouth to say something but close it again without a word. I could see the anger bubbling just below the surface; I just had to figure out a way to get it to boil over. For a change, I decided to be direct.

  “Nick, I wish you would just yell at me or something.”

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

  “What good would that do?”

  I sighed at his response and his attempt to remain composed.

  “I know you’re mad. It might make you feel better.”

  Nick glared at me, folding his arms over his chest.

  “I don’t think anything could make me feel better at this point.” His voice, like the rest of him, was tight and irritated.

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  He pointed at me, rage suddenly flaring in him.

  “Don’t you fucking dare call me baby!”

  The glimmer of hatred in his eyes told me I was onto something. So I tried again.

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, so you keep saying.”

  “I really don’t know what else to say.” I was willing to be honest when it suited me.

  He threw up his hands and paced some more. Stopping abruptly, he narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

  “Sorry I’m not reacting the way you think I should to the fact that I just came home early from a business trip to surprise you, only to find you packed and moving out of our place without so much as a word of explanation. What if I’d missed the shuttle at the airport, been home a few minutes later? You were just going to leave without a conversation? A good-bye? A fucking note, for God’s sake?”

  I looked at the floor and tried to think of an answer. That seemed to be all the answer he needed.

  “Jesus fucking Christ. Is that what this relationship means to you? I can’t believe this is happening,” he said, his anger rising. I decided to go with it.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, make something up, then!”

  His voice echoed off the high ceilings. I met his eyes and shook my head.

  “If you’d been later, then yeah, I would have already been gone. I was gonna leave a note, though,” I admitted.

  His mouth fell open, and after a few seconds, twisted laughter came out.

  “Seriously? What the hell, Wes? Why?”

  “I told you, I don’t know.”

  “Stop saying that. There has to be a reason. There has to be something that made you decide to throw away nearly a year together. For fuck’s sake, we work together. We live together. I thought things were going great.”

  It was time to lower the boom, to tell him I wanted out. I knew he wanted to hear a reason for my behavior. A reason I couldn’t commit, even after all this time. I tried, I really did. But there was a point I could never get past with Nick. Or any guy. A line I couldn’t cross. It wasn’t something I could easily explain, at least not without having to go into things I didn’t want to talk about. Things I wasn’t prepared to share. My self-loathing was hardly something a simple conversation could erase. So I had to give him the next thing down on the list, which seemed as good an excuse as any for what I’d done.

  �
��Fine. I was bored. I am bored. I didn’t want to be with you anymore,” I said, as if it would help.

  Nick raised his eyebrows and started pacing again.

  “Boredom?”

  I nodded, but Nick shook his head.

  “You decided to leave me on a whim because you were bored. Why didn’t you try talking to me? Why didn’t you say something?”

  I started to say the same sentence again, but he yelled and cut me off.

  “Fuck!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

  He started walking again, then stopped, turning his head slowly until our eyes met.

  “Is this what all the dirty socks on the floor and the dirty dishes in the sink have been about? Your way of trying to get my attention?”

  I was really surprised it had taken him so long to figure things out.

  “Maybe.”

  “Jesus, Wes. How old are you? When you get to be our age, you don’t act out. You talk about it like a grown-up,” he said, sounding paternal. He also sounded a lot like my old shrink.

  It was nothing I hadn’t heard from him before. He was always the mature one, even though I was one year older. God, how did he get so damn adult at twenty-seven?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop. Saying. That.”

  Each word came out through his clenched teeth. I hung my head again and finally got up off the couch. I headed for the front door and was surprised when Nick followed me. I grabbed my suitcase from where I’d left it and twisted the doorknob.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I turned to look at Nick.

  “What does it look like? I’m leaving.”

  “Right now? Seriously?”

  I stopped, but I tightened my grip on my bag.

  “I don’t know what else there is to say, Nick.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a big sigh.

  “We’re not done talking,” he said, pointing at me.

  “We aren’t?”

  He closed the gap between us, grabbed my free hand, and dragged me toward the living room. Clearly, he still had more to say. I had no idea what, but I knew it was nothing I wanted to hear.