Snowbound

by Scarlet Blackwell

  The deputy stood in the entrance to the garage, looking out into the distance, arms folded: tall, lean, beautiful. Hayden observed him covertly for a minute, while inside he ached for all that he was losing as suddenly as he had found it.

  "Enter your PIN, sir," the mechanic prompted him.

  Hayden did as he was told, waited for his receipt, then shook hands with the man. He squared his shoulders and walked back out through the garage.

  His car waited out front, by Dylan's police cruiser. Hayden didn't even inspect the repair work to the hood or the new tyre. He couldn't have cared less. In fact, he cursed the garage for getting the work done on time. If Dylan had wanted to keep him here, why hadn't he told the mechanics to take four days on the job? That was what Hayden would have done. He took his bag silently from Dylan and stashed it in the trunk before he got in. The keys were in the ignition. He adjusted his seat before he started the engine and fastened his seatbelt.

  Dylan stood by his door. Hayden pushed the button to the electric window. Dylan put his hand on the top of the door. "Follow the road for another mile, then make a right for the interstate."

  "Thanks for everything," Hayden said quietly.

  Dylan didn't reply. Hayden glanced back into the garage before he rested his hand over Dylan's.

  "Bye."

  "Bye. You take care now." Dylan slid his hand away. He stepped back from the car.

  Hayden's jaw quivered. He kept it tightly clamped shut. He looked once over his shoulder before he stepped hard on the accelerator, shooting out into the middle of the road and putting as much distance between him and the town of Blackstone as he could.

  Dylan faded away to a dot in the distance and Hayden saw the turnoff. He braked hard and flew onto the highway. He joined the flow of traffic, his foot down hard. He plucked at his seatbelt as it seemed to be crushing his chest, squashing the breath out of him.

  ****

  Dylan walked back to his car. He kept his expression carefully neutral because the owner of the garage was standing there watching. He made a U-turn and set off back to his house, the only safe haven as far as he could see. He switched off the engine in the driveway and got out.

  He unlocked the front door and stepped inside. He didn't kick his boots off, only sank down on the bottom step of the stairs and bent his head, hands dangling between his knees.

  It's okay, he told himself. It's okay.

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hayden returned to his life and carried on much the same, apart from the fact that he was deeply changed, deeply scarred by that one fateful encounter. Time passed and his memories faded along with that sting of hurt, that pain, which had initially screwed him up beyond recognisable.

  But he became quieter, withdrawn, taciturn. He let the world carry on around him and he didn't say anything about it. Nothing mattered that much anymore. Not now that he'd had a glimpse of what could have been, and had it all taken away as quickly as it had arrived.

  He knew he wouldn't ever go back to Blackstone and look Dylan up. He had to be satisfied with his life.

  But then fate intervened once again, ten years down the line, dealing its cards in the most terrible of ways.

  Hayden waited two respectable years after the blow that befell him and then he set out to Blackstone on the morning of a summer's day, with an overnight bag just in case.

  He was thirty-seven years old, too young to carry on forgetting.

  ****

  Hayden drove into the centre of town with his palms wet and his heart furiously hammering against his ribs as though pleading to be let out. He felt it begging, the way it had continued to beg through twelve long years of denial.

  He had fought with it and fought with it and finally it had won. It had brought him back here and he had followed, a slave to it, a prisoner.

  But he didn't know what he would find. Who said Dylan was here? He could be halfway across the world, he could be shacked up with another guy, he could be dead.

  That troublesome heart of his told him that Dylan was still here, though. He had been born here and he hadn't shown interest in leaving, so why shouldn't he still be here? And if he wasn't, what would Hayden do? Simple. He would search the world if he had to, until he found the man he'd left behind.

  He let the air-conditioning dry the sweat on his brow another few bracing minutes before he got out of the car, not bothering to lock it behind him. He took the steps up to the police station slowly, taking his time, in no rush any more to confront his destiny. Especially not when he was unsure what he would find there.

  He pushed open the glass door and stepped into cold air, approaching a desk sergeant who beamed at him instantaneously as though the opening of the door triggered the nerves in his face.

  "Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you this fine day?"

  "Hi. I'm- er," Hayden stopped, cleared his dry throat. "I'm looking for Deputy, er, Hubble."

  The man continued to grin like The Cheshire Cat. "You're out of touch, sir. He hasn't been deputy for a long time."

  Hayden's hopes and dreams sank miserably into his shoes. "No?"

  "No, he's sheriff now."

  Hayden smiled hesitantly. He was still here. Maybe he still had a chance. "Can I see him?"

  "He's at a funeral right now. Not sure when he's expected back."

  "Oh. Right."

  "Want to leave your number and he can give you a call?"

  "I… n-no. It's okay. I'll catch him again." Hayden stepped back as he spoke. His courage was gone.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah. It's fine. Thanks." Hayden turned and fled.

  The heat hit him as he stepped outside. He paused on the steps, cursing himself and his failure to see this through. What was he going to do? Hang around town like a hobo and come back later? Drive all the way back home and come back another day? Oh God, he would never be able to do this again. Not ever.

  He stopped as a tall, lean man climbed from his patrol car, carrying his hat. His hair was cut shorter than Hayden remembered, still that glossy chestnut brown. Prior to today, Hayden hadn't been able to visualise Dylan's face completely any longer. Time had dulled the lustre of those golden eyes in his mind, blanked out the curve of Dylan's chiselled jaw and the quirk of his sensual mouth. The slow disappearance of Dylan's face from his memory was like an extra slap in the face. He had wished fervently with all his heart that he had one photo.

  Now that beloved face came back, imprinted forever, as Dylan turned around to face him.

  For a moment he didn't seem to recognise him. He came to the steps and it seemed like he would walk straight past Hayden and then Dylan stopped.

  Standing one step down from Hayden, he stared. His eyes were bright with green sparks in the sunlight, like shards of emerald glass. Fine lines emphasised them, and curved around his beautiful mouth. His short haircut only drew further attention to his stunning face.

  Dylan, if it were possible, had merely grown more handsome in the intervening twelve years.

  "Hello, Dylan."

  Dylan's hat fell from his hands. He grew pale beneath his summer tan. His mouth worked but it seemed he couldn't speak.

  Hayden picked up his hat. He waited for Dylan to get himself together, while inside he barely held himself intact.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I came to see how you are."

  Dylan continued to stare, dark brows drawn together in a frown as though he simply couldn't comprehend why Hayden had turned up now, after all this time. But that was okay, he hadn't expected Dylan to understand.

  "I…" Dylan shook his head. He blinked as though coming up from underwater. He took his hat back, glanced around. "Okay, let's go get a coffee." He set off, walking back to his car.

  Hayden followed quickly on trembling legs.

  ****

  They drove the short distance up the road to a diner, Hayden looking at Dylan covertly out of the corner of his eye, tracing the strong curve of his s
moothly shaven jaw with his gaze and wishing his tongue and lips could follow the path his eyes took. Dylan didn't look any different. Age had only improved him, like a fine wine. He took Hayden's breath away.

  Dylan glanced at him as he pulled over to the kerb. Hayden looked away. He climbed out and followed Dylan's lead.

  It was strange to be back in Blackstone during summer, strange not to be in five layers and half-frozen to death. Hayden wore jeans and a T-shirt. Dylan wore a short-sleeved black shirt and matching pants, which hugged every curve of his lean hips and strong thighs. The light dusting of hair on his forearms was golden. The gold star on his chest glittered in the sun. Hayden trailed behind and stared at the weapons on his utility belt, dropping his gaze lower to admire Dylan's firm buttocks.

  Dylan led Hayden through the diner. Several people greeted the sheriff as he passed and the waitress called him honey. Clearly he commanded respect around here. Hayden wondered if he was out, if these people knew which gender he preferred in his spare time. Maybe Hayden had been an experiment, the way Dylan had been for him. Maybe Dylan had a wife now.

  Dylan directed him to a booth at the back, near the serving hatch. Hayden sat opposite, and immediately checked Dylan's left hand. No wedding ring.

  He tried to relax, sitting back, but nausea clawed at his throat and his heart beat so hard he was sure Dylan could hear it. He stretched out his aching right leg under the table. He accidentally made contact with Dylan's foot and pulled it back.

  "You still limp," Dylan said, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on Hayden's.

  Hayden shrugged. Some things hadn't changed. "I had another couple of operations. Didn't make any difference. Sometimes I think they might as well cut the damn thing off."

  Dylan didn't respond. An uneasy silence grew.

  "Hey, Dylan." The blonde waitress who knew the sheriff as 'honey' appeared at their table, perusing Hayden with interest.

  "Hi, Michelle. I'll take an iced tea, please."

  "You bet, and for you, sir?"

  "Um, cranberry juice, please."

  "Coming right up." Michelle winked at Dylan and left the table.

  "She likes you," Hayden remarked.

  Dylan shrugged.

  "Are you out?"

  "No."

  "Why not? You're still gay, aren't you?"

  Dylan shot him something perilously close to a glare. His body language was all stiff tension, all fight-or-flight. "What? Am I still gay? I wasn't aware you could change back and forth. I'm not you, you know."

  Hayden was deeply stung. In his fondest fantasies, Dylan had fallen into his arms at first sight today. Never had he been unfriendly and antagonistic.

  Hayden swallowed. He clasped his sweating hands together on his lap. "You're angry with me."

  Dylan looked away. A muscle ticked in his clamped jaw. "Does your wife know you're here?"

  "My wife died of breast cancer two years ago."

  Dylan's eyes flew to his. Before he could speak, the words tumbled out that Hayden had tried to formulate in his head on the way here, the words he was convinced he would never have the courage to say.

  "I couldn't come back here while she was still alive. You have to understand that. I made a commitment to her. She battled it for seven years. I would never have left her. Please tell me you understand."

  Dylan didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on Hayden. Hayden bowed his head. Tears dripped from his stinging eyes to splash the table. He turned his face abruptly to the wall, hand over his eyes as the waitress arrived with their drinks.

  The silence with which she put the glasses down and left suggested she was communicating non-verbally with Dylan about Hayden's distress, but Hayden didn't care. The misery had broken through the dam, finally.

  Not once had he ever cried over the loss of Dylan. Not the way he'd cried over Julianna.

  He wiped his eyes roughly but the tears continued to pour. "Please," he said. "Please tell me you don't think I'm the most terrible person who ever lived." He sat back against his seat, head bowed, trying to stifle sobs.

  "You need to pull yourself together. I didn't bring you here to cry like a little girl. And I don't know what you want. I'm with someone."

  Dylan's voice stung him like a lash. His words tore deep, fresh wounds into Hayden's scars. Hayden stumbled out of the booth. He upset the glass of cranberry juice; it flooded scarlet onto his jeans, the seat, the floor. Hayden ran from the diner.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  He stumbled into the bright sunshine, in front of a car just pulling up, which honked furiously at him.

  "Hey, Mister! Watch where you're fucking going."

  Hayden started running, although with his poor leg it was more of an ungraceful shuffle, back toward the police station, to where his car waited to take him away from this nightmare.

  He didn't get far. He ducked into the first alleyway he found, leg on fire. He held onto the wall, bent double, mouth full of saliva, ready to vomit.

  No, no, this couldn't be happening. Oh God, what was he even doing here? He'd waited two agonising years after the preceding ten and he'd told himself it was too late now, that he would have truly missed his chance. All his life he'd tried to be a good person and being a good person involved atoning for his one terrible, unforgiveable sin: staying with the person he'd pledged his life to. He couldn't have come back any sooner. He couldn't have abandoned Julianna for anything. Not even Dylan.

  He cried, clutching to the wall with his fingers curled into claws. His head hung down. The nausea receded, leaving him weak and uncoordinated. At that moment, he didn't know how he was going to get back to his car, let alone drive home.

  A shadow at the mouth of the alleyway blocked out the sunlight. Hayden straightened up as best he could. Wiping a hand over his face, he tried to be strong for another emotional blow from Dylan.

  The sheriff came closer. His face was cold as stone but his eyes, still so golden, were full of anguish. "You didn't want me then. What did you think, I'd keep myself as a monk for you on the off chance you might come back? I have a life with a man I love! Don't think you can walk back in here and take me after twelve fucking years!" His voice had risen to a shout and Hayden flinched at every word.

  He stepped back as Dylan moved forward with sudden intent on his face. He collided hard with the wall as Dylan grabbed him by the back of his head and forced a kiss on his lips.

  Hayden gasped. He clutched Dylan's face in both hands, opening his mouth to the kiss, tasting Dylan's tongue with his own.

  Dylan groaned. An arm went around Hayden's back, pulling him firmly against his body. The kiss deepened into desperate passion. They strained against each other as though each could pull the other into his own body by the strength of their need.

  Hayden remembered this kiss. He remembered the force of Dylan's desire for him and how it had never been equalled. He didn't understand how two people who felt this way could ever have denied what existed between them.

  The kiss broke and turned into a lingering embrace. Hayden hid his face against Dylan's shoulder. "I loved you," he said. "I loved you."

  Dylan's fingers caressed the nape of his neck a moment before he pulled away. He turned his back, walked a few paces, turned around. His eyes were liquid. "I waited five years," he said. "It was enough. I gave myself to someone else, just like you did."

  Hayden's lip trembled and tears trickled hopelessly down his cheeks. "Was that my kiss goodbye?"

  Dylan waited a moment before he responded. He blinked a few times, then he lifted his chin. "Yes. Don't come back." He turned and walked out of the alley.

  ****

  Hayden sat on the ground in the alleyway for thirty-five minutes before he finally stood and made his way out. He walked slowly back to the police station, stopping at a store on the way to buy a packet of tissues and a bottle of water. His head ached fiercely and his leg nagged spitefully at him.

  He slid into his car and started the engine, switching on the air-conditioning
. He faced a long drive home to an empty house. He hadn't expected to fail so spectacularly today. He had known Dylan was the one for him the moment the cop walked up to his stranded car on that road in the snow. So why didn't Dylan realise it too? Why didn't he realise Hayden would love and nurture him the rest of his life?

  But life wasn't fair and not many people got their happy endings. Usually they only got what they deserved and Hayden guessed he didn't deserve Dylan.

  He sat back, eyes closed, breathing deeply, trying to breathe through his pain the way he did with his leg.

  A cop getting out of the car next to him attracted his attention. He opened his window. "Excuse me, Officer. Can you recommend a good hotel in town?"

  "Sure." The man was tall and blond, well built. His name badge announced he was Deputy Sheriff. For a moment Hayden wondered if he was the one. Dylan's partner. Would Dylan be that obvious? "Take a left out of here, go down half a mile and take another left. It's the end of the street, The Blackstone Inn, quiet and homey."

  "Thanks very much."

  "You here for business or pleasure, sir?"

  Hayden hesitated. The pain rent his chest. "I hoped I'd come for pleasure. It didn't turn out that way. Have a good day, Officer." He put his window up and reversed out of his spot.

  ****

  Dylan watched out of the window as Hayden's car pulled away. He had taken his time to get back here. Had he stayed in that alleyway all that time after Dylan had left? He slumped down at his desk, staring at the screensaver on his laptop. He'd been unnecessarily cruel to Hayden and that wasn't him.

  Oh God, when he'd set off for work this morning he hadn't expected today to be the day Hayden walked back into his life, not after the way he'd hoped and dreamed for five years and then some, and then finally lost that hope and made do with what he could get.

  Which was unfair to Will. Dylan was not making do with him. He'd been lucky Will had chosen him, despite Dylan's obvious flaws—namely that he was in love with a ghost from twelve years ago.

  ****

  As Hayden lay in the tub that night, he remembered taking a bath with Dylan. How they kissed, Dylan's strong arms around him. He remembered tracing the black ink of the dragon tattoo. He couldn't bear to go home, to his empty house.