by Zoey Marcel
He found Malachi exactly where he expected to—in his garden. If one stood and observed the garden at a distance, it looked like any other collection of vegetables.
If, however, one ventured closer and wasn’t paying attention, they would find themselves falling into one of three holes.
Malachi usually went for a walk or exercised when he was upset, but there were times when he went into the backyard and hoed his garden. Originally it was merely to make pathways to walk between the rows, but his unspoken venting with a hoe had turned the divisions between the vegetable beds into deep trenches. What had started as a typical low-to-the-ground garden had eventually become elevated beds of produce.
Any mole or prairie dog that happened to tunnel through and pop out into one of the trenches would probably wonder what the hell kind of big-ass rival had made such a mammoth hole.
Sean sat on the edge of the chasm and observed his beloved hoeing relentlessly at the earth. “Your garden is coming along.”
He almost called it a trench. In truth, with the aid of rain, the man could make his own trio of reservoirs if he was so inclined.
“It should be finished in no time, thanks to my sons,” Malachi grumbled while hacking at the soil.
“Maybe it’s better this way.”
“Are you taking his side?”
Sean watched the love of his life, admiring his backside. He wanted to jump down into the trench with Malachi and put his arms around him, ensnare him in a tight bear hug. “I’m always on your side. You know that.”
“I raised them alone after my wife died. Is it too much to ask that my sons do what I say?”
“I’m sure they did when they were little. They’re not kids anymore, Malachi. You can’t expect them to follow orders blindly into adulthood. It doesn’t work like that. Don’t you want them to be happy?”
“Carsten finally did what I told him to after years of his wicked rebellion. Now look at him. He’s happily married and has a kid.”
Sean grimaced. Yeah, somehow using Carsten as an example of “Father knows best” wasn’t exactly proving Malachi’s point. Carsten was still gay, even if he was living in denial now. Sean hated it whenever Carsten’s name was mentioned. He didn’t want to be reminded of Malachi’s vehement views against homosexuality. The preacher would never do that to him. Malachi was different with him. Nothing could ever thwart what they had or taint the older man’s view of him.
“Heath isn’t Carsten. I know you want somebody to take care of your church after you retire, but Heath doesn’t want that. It doesn’t mean he’s against church. He just has a soft spot for animals and wants to make a living doing what he loves. For you that means the church. For him it means critters.”
For me it’s wherever you are.
Malachi’s body eased as he breathed out deeply. His hoeing got less manic and now resembled an actual human being tending his garden rather than Thor getting happy with his hammer.
“He should have told me.”
“I know. He should have.”
“I’m a reasonable man.” Malachi chopped ruthlessly at a belligerent area of dirt, making it bend to his reasonable will. “Why didn’t he just tell me what he wanted?”
“He said he did.”
“I would have listened.” He enunciated each word with a brutal hack at the ground. The firmly packed soil finally gave.
Sean smiled. “I know you’re reasonable, but then again, I know you better than anyone.”
Malachi stopped pounding at the earth and wiped his brow. “That’s true.”
Sean’s heart moved with emotion. He wanted to plop into the pathway gone horribly wrong with Malachi and hold him, comfort him, and talk endlessly of how much the man meant to him. He was pretty sure people this young didn’t normally feel this strongly for someone and for so long. He’d loved Malachi for years.
“Heath grew up with you, though. People can change,” Sean said. “Maybe there was a time when you were different. Perhaps not quite as agreeable and understanding as the man I lo—know.”
God help him, he’d almost said “love.”
Malachi turned to face him, mischief playing at his features. “Are you saying there might be times when I’m anything less than charming?”
Sean grinned. “Some might say that, but I never think so.”
Malachi’s beautiful smile reached his eyes—a sight that could turn angels into demons. The magnetic pull in that hypnotizing stare could have the fallen angels never regretting the height from which they’d fallen. Somehow the man was sin and all things good and pure at once.
Sean couldn’t speak for a moment. Some might call his attraction merely physical, and while the lust was indeed intense, what he felt for Malachi ran so much deeper, felt so much stronger, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was love. It was probably the most real thing he’d ever felt. It didn’t matter that they were both men. The age difference between them was irrelevant. It didn’t matter if what he felt was right or wrong. It was real, and for as carnal as his animal urges toward the man were, the feelings ran so deep they had warmth and brilliance to them, like firelight reflected in the pristine purity of a fresh snowfall.
“Pastors’ kids are the worst,” Malachi muttered.
Sean absently petted Squishy’s soft head when she nudged him for attention. “Even if Heath had gone to seminary, it wouldn’t change anything. No one could ever replace you.”
Malachi gave him one of his signature crooked smiles. “That’s kind of you to say. You’re far less irritating than my sons.”
The comment bit a little.
“I don’t think you’ve ever irritated me.”
That helped slightly, but he still felt hollow inside.
“Are you all right?” Malachi asked.
Sean nodded, fighting the prickling sensation in his eyes.
I need more from you. This is killing me.
Malachi held out his hands. “Come here.”
Sean hopped down, guided by the other man. He kept his focus downcast, lest the moisture welling in his tear ducts give him away.
“What’s on your mind?”
He shrugged, a tear slipping down his cheek, when Malachi cradled his jaw to trap him in his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, gently catching the teardrop with the thumb of his free hand.
Sean’s eyes briefly closed. When he opened them again, he forced a weak smile. “I was just thinking of Squishy. If she ever gets sick, it would be better for her to have a vet here in town.”
“That’s true.”
“Wouldn’t you rather your son was happy being himself rather than pretending to be someone he’s not? If you love him, then that should be more important than what he is.”
The comment could apply to Carsten as well, not just to Heath.
Hell, Sean felt the comment was true about himself. His heart clenched with pain in his chest. He wanted so badly to tell Malachi how he truly felt about him it made his throat ache.
Malachi sighed. “You’re right. How do you always know just what to say?”
He couldn’t pretend anymore. This silent aching for the man tormented him more and more every day.
He went breathless when Malachi cupped his cheeks with both hands and locked eyes with him.
“Don’t cry, Sean, please. Squishy will have a vet nearby and Heath will have a supportive father.” Malachi brushed his finger over Sean’s skin to catch another falling tear. “Sometimes I’m too hard. You balance me perfectly. You show me what it means to love.”
Sean’s eyes shut and the tears came faster. Malachi pulled him into a hug. Sean squeezed him tight, barely withholding the subsequent flow of tears.
“Did I upset you?”
He shook his head and inhaled Malachi’s wonderful, manly scent. “I’m just happy.”
“For Squish Face or for Heath?”
For me. I’m being held by you.
His heart broke with joy even as it cracked
with grief. He would give anything if Malachi would just love him back the way Sean adored him.
“In general. You’re a good man.”
Malachi rubbed his back. “So are you.”
“Thanks for reconsidering your stance. Squishy will be happy, as will Heath.” Now that he’d thrown that sentence in there, it would be safer to say what was really on his heart without divulging the depth of his emotions. “I love you.”
The words died on the fabric of his shirt. Malachi’s heartbeat spiked briefly before settling. It happened so fast and with such subtlety, Sean wondered if he simply imagined the reaction.
Malachi held him close. “I love you back.”
The breathy murmur fanned his scalp and was followed by a delicate kiss on top of his head. Sean closed his eyes and lingered in the affectionate embrace for as long as he possibly could before platonic facade would require him to pull away to maintain his heterosexual cover.
Malachi stepped back. “Come on. Let’s go tell my idiot son that I support him.”
Sean managed a feeble smile. “Are you really gonna say it like that?”
Malachi grinned. “I’ll be nice.”
They got out of the garden trench, much to Squishy’s delight, and then all three went back into the house.
Heath turned around from over by the kitchen sink where he’d started washing dishes.
Malachi approached him and calmly placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Heath, you’re irritating and foolish, but you’re my son. Be a vet. I support you.”
He gave a firm pat on a dumbfounded Heath’s shoulder.
Sean flashed him a pearly white grin and gave him two thumbs up when Malachi had his back to them.
“I’m going for a walk.” Malachi strode out into the living room.
When he heard the front door close and lock, Heath whirled around to face Sean. “What did you do?”
Sean smiled a little. “I told you I had a way with him.”
“There’s no reasoning with him. How did you do it?”
“I just talked with him.”
“Talk,” Heath mumbled as he got back to the dishes. “He never listened to talk before.”
“Maybe he’s getting soft with age.”
“Either that or you’ve got a magic touch or some kind of special hold on him.”
Something warm and susceptible stirred within Sean. He went over to the sink to help Heath out with the dishes. “You never know.”
Heath touched a finger to his chin, lifting it for a second to investigate. “You’ve been crying?”
Sean averted his eyes and fiddled with the silverware. “My eyes watered. That’s all.”
Heath shook his head, wearing an entertained little smirk. “You bawled your eyes out in front of him, didn’t you? You wept like a woman to get your way and gain his sympathy. You clever son of a gun. I wish I could cry at will.”
Sean faked a grin, heart hurting inside when he thought of the real reason for his genuine tears. “You caught me. Don’t say anything, though.”
“Hey, man, you did me a favor. Who am I gonna tell?” Heath scrubbed a dirty plate, a wee smile playing at his lips. “First you’re gay. Then you’re manipulating my crotchety father. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
You have no idea.
Sean wore a rueful smile. “You seem bothered by something today. Is it a woman?”
Heath stopped, seeming shaken a bit.
“I saw you the other day arguing with Danielle Hartwell. I’ve never seen you so depressed. You must really fancy her.”
The taller man sighed as he rinsed the clean plate off. “I do like her. Doesn’t matter anymore since I found her getting her muffin munched on by some preppy, punk-looking dick in designer clothes.”
Heath set the plate down roughly in the dish drainer.
“She’s from McKenna Downs,” Sean reminded him.
Heath looked annoyed. “What’s your point?”
“My point is they share in that town.”
He snorted. “Bunch of kinky perverts.”
“I’m all for monogamy myself, but I imagine for her growing up in a town like that, she’s probably used to it. She might not have even thought she did anything wrong.”
“Then why did she act guilty when I caught her?”
“Wouldn’t you look like that if someone saw you getting sucked on?”
Heath looked away from him and returned his attention to the sink full of suds and dishes. “I suppose. I’m not a sharing kind of man. She’s gonna have to choose. Hell, she’s already made her choice.”
He set this plate down with more vigor than was essential. The clank was loud, but the dish didn’t break.
“I think you should talk to her and get things sorted. How do you know she doesn’t want you back?”
“If she does, she has my fucking number.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for you to go to her.”
“Well, fuck it. I’m not crawling on my hands and knees to apologize to a woman for doing nothing wrong. She screwed me over.”
Sean’s eyes widened and he stepped back when Heath waved a butter knife in his face while talking. “Butter her up, not me.”
Heath’s smirk was weak, his brown eyes soft with turmoil. He must really like the lass.
“You should talk with her. If you never say anything, you might regret it someday.” A dull spasm rippled through his chest. “I know I would.”
Contemplation hovered over Heath. “I’ll think about it.”
Sean hoped it worked out for Heath and Danielle. In a way he envied him. Heath could walk right up to the object of his affection and profess his interest in her. She would probably accept him, too. They would be able to walk down the street together hand in hand without fear of judgment…because they were straight.
Sometimes he wished he were straight so it wouldn’t hurt as much loving someone he could never have.
If he were a woman, he would do everything in his power to get Malachi’s attention and make the man fall hard for him.
“Heath, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you believe men can fall in love with each other?”
Heath paused, seeming concerned. “Why?”
“I was just wondering.”
“You’re not in love with me, are you?”
Sean wrinkled his nose, cracking a grin when he saw Heath’s worried-straight-man impression. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Heath smiled in relief. “Okay. Good. You’re like a brother to me.”
“Same here.”
“Why, are you in love?”
“It was just a question. You said you weren’t against gays. I was wondering if you believe that men can fall in love with each other.”
Heath was quiet for a minute as he stared down into the soapy water. “Yeah, I do.”
“Did you always think so?”
“No.”
“What changed your mind?”
Heath began scrubbing a glass with the sponge. “It was you, Sean.”
Sean’s pulse stuttered and he nearly fell over. “What?”
Heath threw him a facetious glance, snickering when he saw the concern on Sean’s face. “That was fun. Good to know you scare easily.”
Sean gave him a light shove. “Don’t do that.”
A bratty smile brightened Heath’s formerly solemn countenance.
“You scared me.”
“You know I’m the highest level of hotness you could aim for,” Heath teased.
Sean chortled. “Yes, I can hardly contain myself when you’re near.”
The amusement became silence before Sean breached it.
“Are you going to talk to Danielle? Maybe you could share her with another lad and then have her all to yourself. It could be a phase she’s going through.”
“I guess a temporary three-way wouldn’t be so bad, but if things get serious, I want her to myself. I don’t share my
women.”
“I wouldn’t share either.” Sean watched him for several seconds before saying anything. “I envy you, getting to tell someone how you feel. I doubt it will be easy for me when I fall.”
“Sure it will. Just don’t fall for a straight guy and you shouldn’t have any problem.”
Too late.
* * * *
Well, well. Wasn’t that an interesting fucking letter? Gavin Donnelly held a letter addressed to Danielle in his hand. It had been in a pile of unopened mail that neither she nor he had gone through.
He had now, and he’d discovered that some horny male in South Dakota had written her a love letter, begging her like a wimp to come home and be cared for and fucked by him and his brother. Apparently their names were David and Brighton McAlister.
Freaks.
Gavin had their address. He decided it was time to pay them a visit. He could casually pop the question of Danielle’s whereabouts to them. Hell, she might even be with them already.
And if not and they weren’t cooperative, there was always brute force and turning the chumps into a hostage situation, the ransom being Danielle. Oh, she would cooperate. Then he’d slay her for sticking her pretty nose into his macabre business.
She was fetching, though. They’d had some good times together.
Well, all good things must come to an end. They would share one last dirty fuck if there was time, and then he would kill her.
But how to do it? He could make it bloody and quick, but somehow that didn’t seem respectful to her after all they’d been through together.
Perhaps he would strangle her. It was more personal that way, so intimate. They would be looking deeply into each other’s eyes while he held her down and deprived her of air, slowly stole the breath from her lungs, and watched her life ebb slowly away from her. She would know who was killing her, feel the strength leaving her weaker body as he took the life from her.
She would know he wasn’t to be crossed, but she would realize that it was just business, nothing personal. He liked her. That’s why he wanted to fuck her one more time, to show her that their relationship had meant something to him. Not love, of course. That was for saps.
But he liked her enough to risk getting caught by the police while he took the time to fuck the strength from her before killing her intimately and speaking tender words to her while he strangled her until she submitted to his fatal power.
