The Torches We Carry

by L. A. Witt

  Though it occurred to me that maybe this time it wasn’t that I didn’t know what I was feeling—it was that I was afraid to put a name on it. There was some truth hiding under all those jumbled emotions, and the thought of seeing it and not being able to ignore it scared me.

  Maybe last night hadn’t been a mistake. Maybe the mistake was all the stuff we still needed to say.

  I surreptitiously watched Marcus. He looked exhausted. His skin was a shade or two paler than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes made it even worse. He was usually so quick to smile, but now his lips were a thin, straight line.

  And he wasn’t talking. All throughout our relationship and friendship, he’d been the one to speak up and define everything so we could work it all out.

  But what if he didn’t have the words this time? What if this time, Marcus needed me to find the words?

  Just the thought sent panic skittering through me. I didn’t even know where to start. I was terrified that if I tried to tell him all the things on my mind, I’d screw up somehow and make things worse. That I’d explain my feelings wrong, or just freeze up and not be able to speak at all.

  But, I thought as I watched him across the table, was that worse than leaving everything unsaid?

  Right then, Marcus’s phone vibrated, buzzing loudly on the table and startling me so hard I almost knocked my drink over. He checked the screen, and the relief washing over him was palpable. “Oh, thank God. The van will be done in another half hour.”

  I exhaled. “Awesome.”

  He gestured for the waitress to bring us the check. While we waited for that, he turned to me. “Well, we have a choice. We can try the roads this afternoon and hope the pass is clear. Or we can stay in town for one more night and leave in the morning.”

  We locked eyes across the table.

  Then, at the same time: “Let’s get moving.”

  Chapter 20

  Marcus

  Not a moment too soon, the van was ready.

  We paid with the company credit card, and then Reuben and I checked the back to make sure nothing had gone missing—we didn’t distrust the mechanic per se, but there was no harm in being vigilant. Once we were sure everything was where it belonged, we tucked our luggage in, and Reuben climbed into the driver’s seat.

  I said nothing as I buckled my seat belt. He didn’t say a word as he started the van. The silence followed us onto I-90, and I stared out the window at the snow-covered farms flying past. I hated that we couldn’t talk to each other, but I was kind of relieved by it too. I didn’t think I could handle a conversation now. Small talk would be too awkward. Anything more than that would be too painful, either because the subject itself would be salt in too many wounds or because we’d be pointedly avoiding the shit we desperately needed to talk about. And all that assumed I could even speak without my voice breaking, and I didn’t have a lot of confidence in that department.

  The sex we’d tried to have last night made me want to cry now. The Reuben I was used to in the bedroom had been MIA, replaced by someone who second-guessed his every move before we’d both finally given up. Lying beside him last night and riding shotgun beside him now, I didn’t think I’d ever been so certain that what we’d had in the past was dead, and that our friendship was quickly following suit.

  Yeah, it was definitely time to look for another job. I couldn’t come to work every day and see him. Not when I still felt this strongly for him and neither of us could look each other in the eye.

  First things first—get home and decompress.

  Then work on the résumé.

  Then start applying for—

  Abruptly, the van started slowing down. Then his signal came on, and he nosed off onto the shoulder.

  Panic skittered up my spine. “What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” A zillion worst-case scenarios crashed through my brain. Had a warning light come on? Was the van still fucked up? “Reuben, is—”

  He put up his hand. “I need to do this now before I lose my nerve.”

  My teeth snapped shut.

  Do what?

  Lose your nerve?

  Oh God, what’s happening?

  My heart pounded and my meager breakfast threatened to reappear, so I focused on clenching my jaw and swallowing hard enough to keep from getting sick.

  Reuben put the van in Park, but didn’t face me. He stared straight ahead, still gripping the wheel for dear life even though the van was idling on the shoulder. I wanted to ask what was going on, but something told me to stay quiet so I didn’t break his concentration.

  Finally, he took a deep breath. “When you asked if the threesome killed my marriage,” he began tentatively, “I couldn’t give you a straight answer. And it’s because I didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”

  My tongue tried to stick to the roof of my mouth, but I managed, “So what is the truth?”

  Reuben swallowed hard, still staring out the windshield. “I knew going into that night that Michelle and I were in a bad place. I thought we had a shot at making it, but she’d pretty much written us off, so really, it was a matter of time. So we were… well, we shouldn’t have been thinking about a threesome, that’s for damn sure.” He wiped a hand over his face and exhaled. “But that night… I don’t know. I guess the idea of a threesome got us both turned on, and even though I knew it was a bad idea, I couldn’t say no. I…” Another hard swallow, and this time he turned to me, eyes full of too many emotions to parse. “I just couldn’t say no to the way I felt that night. Someone was actually excited about sex with me, even if you and she were both just excited about having a threesome.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from telling him it hadn’t been the threesome that had drawn me into their bedroom that night. As much as I wanted to say it, I didn’t dare interrupt him while the words were finally coming.

  “The next day,” he went on unsteadily, “we both knew it was over. I think we both knew it anyway, and had for a long time, but that was the end of it.”

  I winced.

  “I’m not blaming you for the end of my marriage,” he continued. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We did. And I’m sorry we pulled you into the middle of it.”

  “You didn’t,” I said. “We were all in on it that night. I just… didn’t realize…”

  “I know. You couldn’t have known. The thing is, that night sped up the inevitable with me and Michelle. And that’s probably a really good thing. If we’d dragged it out much longer, I don’t think we would have broken up nearly as amicably. But what I’m trying to say…” He took a deep breath, staring out at the lazily falling snow and passing cars. “The threesome forced me and Michelle to acknowledge some things we’d been trying like hell to ignore. And I think getting thrown together on this trip forced you and me to deal with how weird things have been… and also a lot of things we’ve been ignoring for a long time. Or at least things I’ve been ignoring.”

  “Such as?”

  “Things like…” He shifted uncomfortably. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, lips tight and brow furrowed like he was concentrating hard. Finally, he looked at me again. “My marriage had probably been dead for a solid year. Michelle and I didn’t want to admit it, but there it is. That night, though, I realized that after all this time, I’m still carrying a torch for you.”

  My heart stopped. “What?”

  “I realized after that night that I still want you. And that I…” His lips tightened again, frustration radiating off him as if the words were there but just out of his reach. Finally he pushed out a breath, and his voice shook badly as he went on. “You know me, Marcus. You know how much I suck at saying all this shit. So if it’s not coming out right, I…” He threw up a hand. “I don’t know.” He met my eyes, and in a shaky whisper, he added, “I just know that I love you.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I stared at him in disbelief. Had he… was this… he loved me? Okay, deep down I’d always believed he did, but the fact that he’d tapped into God k
new what and managed to say the words out loud… ironically, it left me speechless.

  He shifted a little, eyes flicking away for a second before he continued. “I’m not going to tell you I’m over my divorce or that I will be any time soon. But I can deal with that and still know how I feel about you.” He pressed his lips together, then wiped a hand over his face before he stared out the windshield again. “Maybe I’m not ready for something. I don’t know. But to be honest, nothing has felt right in my life since we broke up.”

  I blinked. “That… that was six years ago.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “And to this day, I couldn’t tell you why I ever thought it was a good idea.”

  “You couldn’t deal with the secrecy at work.” It came out flat, edged with a hint of the accusation I couldn’t quite hold back.

  Reuben winced. Then he sighed. “I was a fucking coward.” He turned to me, eyes shining with tears and wide with regret and hurt. “I was afraid to come out to my dad, and I was afraid if he found out about us, you’d lose your job. But there is nothing in this world I’ve ever regretted more than walking away from you.”

  Disbelief kept me mute for long seconds. I’d known about his fear of coming out, and I’d known about that certainty that one or both of us would lose our jobs, but I’d convinced myself our breakup had been easy for him. Or at least, not this hard.

  I steeled myself. “There’s something I need to know.”

  Reuben watched me expectantly, eyebrows up.

  I searched for the right words, and finally settled on the direct approach: “Did you love Michelle?”

  No surprise registered on his face. It was as if he’d been ready for it.

  His eyes lost focus. “Yeah. I did. And I do.” He paused, regained focus, and looked at me. “And yeah, I meant my vows to her. I… the thing is, I thought I’d blown my chance with you. I’d broken up with you, you’d moved on to someone else, and I made myself move on too.” He swallowed, and his voice wavered, “I thought I moved on.”

  “And you think you and Michelle still would have split up?” I asked because I was a fucking masochist. “If we hadn’t… in December…”

  Reuben nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I mean, I was still in love with you, and I still had a shitload of regrets, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t pour myself into my marriage. I wanted it to work, and I tried to make it work. But we…” He shook his head. “Michelle and I had problems that would’ve killed our marriage even if you’d never existed at all.” He let his head fall back against the seat, and suddenly looked ten times more exhausted than he’d been this entire week. “So that’s… that’s everything I needed to say.”

  I silently drank in the sight of him for a long moment. It would’ve taken a lot out of me to spill my guts like that too, but knowing what I did about Reuben… Christ, no wonder he’d had to pull off on the side of I-90. He must’ve been working up the nerve, and as soon as he’d had it, didn’t dare wait another minute or else he might never find the courage again. And then he’d said all of that. This was probably more than he’d ever opened up in a single conversation—hell, in a single week—in his life.

  He turned toward me, brow pinched, tired eyes studying me from across the console.

  My heart sped up. He’d just bared his soul, probably scared himself half to death, and he was still waiting for me to respond, wasn’t he?

  I moistened my lips, then cleared my throat and hoped that was enough to keep the words steady. “Maybe now’s a good time to mention that in six years, I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  His breath hitched. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I reached across the console, and as soon as I found his hand, we both closed our fingers and held on tight. His palm was as damp as it was hot; he really was a nervous wreck. Sitting up, I beckoned to him with my free hand. “Come here.”

  He leaned closer, and we met over the console, but not in a kiss—we wrapped our arms around each other, buried our faces in each other’s necks, and just held on for… God, I had no idea how long.

  When I was sure I could trust my voice to hold, I whispered, “I love you, Reuben.”

  “I love you too.”

  I drew back and looked in his eyes. There’d been something on the tip of my tongue, but as soon as I met his gaze, words didn’t seem important anymore. So instead, I cupped the back of his head and kissed him, and the instant our lips met, it was like the whole world had righted itself. Everything that had been off-kilter for the last several years was back where it needed to be. I could breathe—really breathe—and when I did, I caught his familiar scent, and everything from relief to arousal to tears wanted to overwhelm me at the same time.

  This wasn’t the kind of kiss we’d shared when we were trying to wind each other up. It was just his lips against mine, both of us sliding trembling fingers through each other’s hair. There’d be time for tongues and gasps later, and I didn’t imagine the sun would go down before we were naked in bed, but right now it was just this quiet, earth-shaking return to something I hadn’t fully understood how much I’d been missing.

  He touched his forehead to mine. Neither of us said a word, but I supposed nothing needed to be said right then. Which was good because I couldn’t think of anything except you’re here.

  The crunch of tires on gravel cut through the noise of the interstate. Reuben twisted a little to glance in the side mirror, then jerked back and muttered, “Shit!” Confusion had me paralyzed until he added, “Cop.”

  I dropped back into the passenger seat, and a second later, a state trooper appeared at my window. She hadn’t seen anything, had she? As I rolled down the window, I glanced in the rearview and was relieved to confirm what I already knew—that everything packed into the van completely obscured the rear window.

  The chilly wind from outside blew in, snapping at my face, and the cop asked, “Everything all right, gentlemen?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reuben said. “Just stopped to find an address.” He tapped the GPS.

  Wow. He’d certainly thought faster than I had, and bullshitting was my job.

  “All right, well.” The trooper gestured up ahead. “There’s a ramp about half a mile up. Gas stations and plenty of safer places to pull over.” She motioned toward the traffic speeding past us. “Isn’t safe out here, so move along.”

  “Right.” Reuben cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  The cop gave us a nod, then headed back to her patrol car.

  Neither of us moved or even breathed until she’d pulled back onto the interstate and was disappearing into the distance. As the dirty Crown Vic faded, we both exhaled.

  Then we looked at each other, and after a beat of silence, burst out laughing.

  Wiping his eyes, he said, “It figures the one time I manage to say what’s on my mind, the cops get involved.”

  I snorted. So did he. We both doubled over laughing again.

  As I pulled myself together, I said, “We should probably get going before another cop stops.”

  “Good idea.” But he didn’t put the van in gear yet. Instead, he slid his hand over my thigh and smiled, relief written all over his face. I wasn’t sure how much of it was because we’d straightened things out between us and how much was because the cop had bought his bullshit, but I’d take that gentle smile however I could get it.

  “We should get back on the road,” I said again.

  “Yeah.” He gave my leg a little squeeze. “The sooner we get over the pass, the sooner we get back to your place.”

  “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  The smile grew. Then he winked.

  My pulse went wild.

  “Good…” I swallowed. “Good idea. Let’s go.”

  Reuben leaned across the console for one more quick kiss, then returned to his seat and carefully merged back onto I-90.

  And I prayed like hell that nothing slowed us down.

  Chapter 21

  Reuben />
  The hour and a half between when we’d pulled over and when I drove up Marcus’s driveway felt like days. Finally, though, we were here, and I actually breathed a sigh of relief as I put the van in Park.

  Neither of us said a word—though this silence was nothing like the many we’d shared over the last week—and we didn’t make any move to get his luggage out of the back. We just got out and went inside.

  As soon as we were clear of the door, he shut it behind us and turned the deadbolt. Then he faced me, and for a moment, we just stood there in the entryway, gazing into each other’s eyes as if we needed to savor how relaxed the air was between us now. There’d been so much wrong and now there was so much right, and I didn’t even know if I could handle it.

  “Come here,” he whispered, and drew me in for a kiss, and… yes. God, yes. I wrapped my arms around him and lost myself in him.

  I’d half-expected us to start ripping clothes off and throwing each other around, but we didn’t. We let this long, languid kiss go on, holding each other close as we lazily explored each other’s mouths. Clothes stayed put, and so did our feet, and right there in the entryway, I held on to Marcus and let his kiss assure me that I hadn’t said the wrong thing out on the road. That somehow, I’d found the words and put them together and laid myself bare and he’d understood it all. Understood and reciprocated.

  “I love you, Reuben,” his words echoed inside my mind.

  When we came up for air, he touched his forehead to mine, and we just panted for a moment, holding each other close and letting our breath mingle between our mouths.

  “We’re going to end up fucking right here,” he breathed.

  “Your bed’s not that far away. Maybe we should go there.”

  Marcus laughed softly, and kissed me. Then, without a word, he took my hand and led me upstairs. We sank onto his bed, still dressed, and kissed just like we had in the entryway. Gently. Tenderly. There was heat between us, and hunger, but mostly there was relief. Like the world had been on its ass for so long I couldn’t remember what it felt like on its axis, and now we had to get used to things being right again. Fine by me—I could do this as long as either of us needed.