Edge Jump

by Elizabeth Noble

  Rylan brushed his fingers through his blond bangs before wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Brett walked quietly across the room and used two fingers to tap Rylan’s shoulder. “Hey.”

  Rylan looked up and smiled sadly. “I’m glad you’re here and they didn’t have a room for you.”

  Brett scratched his chin a few times. “Yeah, me too.” He tapped Rylan’s shoulder again. “Shower and dinner.”

  Nodding, Rylan set the program book on the wide marble window sill and pushed out of the chair. “I won’t be long.”

  Brett spent a few minutes in front of the mirror tying his tie before he slipped on a leather jacket. A brief examination of the chair near the window confirmed Brett’s suspicion, it was actually a pull-out bed. He called the front desk for more pillows and blankets since the pull-out would be his bed later.

  The shower was still running when there was a knock on the door a few minutes later, the extra bedding had arrived. He took the blankets and pillows and piled them the chair. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the program, it was impossible. It was dark outside and the window glass reflected the book’s cover.

  Rylan and Celia were prominent on the cover. The background was multicolored lights that were blurred to allow the skaters to draw the reader’s eye. It was a classic ice dancing couples’ pose. Rylan was behind Celia, holding hands, their arms spread wide as they leaned forward, each with one leg extended behind them. Brett could tell by the way Rylan’s hair feathered out in his wake they were moving across the ice quickly when the photographer captured their image.

  Rylan and Celia were the perfect aesthetic match, complimenting each other. Celia took after her and Brett’s mother. She was tiny, with features that highlighted their mother’s Japanese ancestry, her skin tone, like Brett’s, reflected their father’s Spanish bloodlines.

  Brett grew taller than his father by time he was fifteen, where his size came from, genetically, he’d never know—maybe it was the Samurai ancestors his mother told him stories about. He was no good at figure skating, where his sister excelled, or the speed skating that was his mother’s passion. Though, like his father, he cross-country skied, however, not competitively. Brett’s size and power, combined with his own skills on the ice, were well suited for hockey, so that’s the direction he took.

  Celia was stunning in the photograph, but it was Rylan who drew Brett’s attention. Even in a two-dimensional picture it was obvious how much Rylan loved to skate and perform. No wonder the public and their fans were so enamored with them as a couple. The five by seven glossy cover radiated charisma and sheer joy. Brett knew the truth, of course, Rylan was gay and his sister had been engaged to a wonderful man she dearly loved, but looking at that photo one would think they only existed for each other. He supposed it was all part of the act. Brett had been surprised over the years to find out other skating couples weren’t romantic couples off the ice.

  Brett wanted to focus on Celia, but the truth was he couldn’t drag his eyes off Rylan. No one would see from that photo how vibrantly green his eyes were, but it was another thing Brett knew to be true. The form fitting black outfit Rylan had worn that day showed off how his waist tapered down to narrow hips. He was lean and incredibly fit, but not overly muscular. Brett wondered how Rylan’s thighs and abs looked underneath his clothes.

  “That’s one of my favorite shots of us. It was taken last year in…San Antonio, I think. We only do world tours every few years, so, last year and this year’s tours are all United States and Canada, a few stops in Mexico.” The sound of Rylan’s voice right behind him made Brett start. He dropped the program to the table then turned around. Rylan snickered and this time his smile wasn’t an empty gesture, but showed up in his eyes, too. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He bit his lip for a second then added, “I thought scaring you was pretty much impossible.”

  Brett opened his mouth then closed it fast before something came spurting out that was going to embarrass them both. He swallowed hard and whispered hoarsely, “You should probably get dressed before we go.”

  Brett’s questions about what Rylan might look like under his clothes were answered. He had lean thighs and well-shaped calves dusted with blond hair. The hair atop his head was still damp and little rivulets of water trickled down his chest. It was impossible not to notice how his nipples hardened under Brett’s gaze and the muscles of his abs quivered. Rylan wore boxer shorts that did very little to hide the fact his cock was more firm than flaccid.

  “I’ll be ready in a minute,” Rylan said. He broke eye contact and dropped his gaze to the floor then turned away.

  Brett stood rooted to his spot, silently admiring Rylan’s round, firm ass. “I’m getting hungry.”

  Rylan glanced over his shoulder while he stepped into a pair of jeans. “Me too.” He hopped a little and slipped the jeans over his hips before buttoning them. Next, he pulled on a white T-shirt and over that, a thin, collarless knitted shirt. “You look really great.” Rylan looked down at himself. “Should I wear a shirt with a tie?”

  “Hell, no. I like those clothes.” Brett shrugged. “It’s just the hotel restaurant.” He liked how Rylan’s face lit up from Brett’s simple praise.

  “Guess we should go?” Rylan pulled a dark sports jacket from the closet and shrugged it on.

  “There’s something my mother always taught me and I’d like to share it with you. Maybe Celia told you at some point. Our mother was Shinto and when her mother died she reminded us that a loved one’s death should remind those of us left behind that our lives are short. Her belief was we need to honor our dead by living our lives. That makes death meaningful.” He stopped and shrugged a bit. “No one is ever gone, their energy returns to another world, is recycled and comes back to make a new life.”

  Rylan’s features relaxed and he almost gave off the impression of having some weight lifted from him. “I like that. Thank you. I knew your mom, of course, but never very well. She was a terrific lady. It’s as if she was saying you not only have permission to move on, but you’re required to.”

  “Yes. That’s what she did, too. She was big on showing, not preaching.” Brett smiled softly, then nodded.

  They went through the normal ritual all men do, wallet, keys—and in their case keycard—phone all stashed away in the appropriate pockets.

  “Ready?” Brett held the door open for Rylan and then walked with him down the hall to the elevator.

  The hotel restaurant was like many others around the world Brett had been in over the years. Families, couples, business people, all of whom would, at some point in their stay, have a meal here. Brett liked these places, they were generally low-key, with a diverse menu—something for everyone.

  A perky young woman greeted them. “Table for two?”

  “Yes, please,” Brett said and without thinking put one hand on Rylan’s back for a few beats.

  The young woman smiled and picked up menus printed on thick paper designed to look like old parchment. “This way. I think you’ll like one of the quiet tables near the fireplace.”

  Rylan glanced at the floor and blushed slightly but didn’t say anything while they followed the hostess through the room to a corner table. There was a mini lamp in the center giving off a soft, relaxing glow. The fire place was an old-fashioned tile and iron affair with a cheerful fire inside that gave off just enough heat to be comfortable.

  “Our drinks list,” she said and set it down on the table before handing each of them one of the menus. “Your server will be by in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you,” Rylan said softly. When she walked away Rylan’s blush deepened and he added, “I think she thinks we’re on a date.”

  “That’s okay. It’s nice to go out in public and not have to hide. I’ve thought about moving here more than once over the years,” Brett admitted as he looked over the menu.

  Rylan snorted. “And in a fun plot twist, here am I, some sort of beard for Celia and Clive to help them keep th
eir engagement on the downlow and away from fans.” He stopped suddenly and sagged in his chair. “Was.”

  Clive Sebastian was Celia’s fiancé. “Have you seen Clive?”

  Rylan shook his head. “No. He’s in a coma and has very limited visitors. His family is huge, but two of his sisters came to the shows regularly when we performed near their city and always invited us for dinner. They’re nice enough, but half his family thought Celia and I were sleeping together and the other half thought since I was gay, I wanted to shag Clive.” He rolled his eyes. “Other than the two sisters, they’re kinda weird.”

  Brett laughed outright and relaxed back in the chair. He jutted his chin at Rylan’s menu. “What’s good here?”

  “Their steak and house salad is good, so are the pasta dishes. I think everything I’ve eaten here I’ve liked,” Rylan said.

  As if on cue the waitress arrived at their table. “Can I start you gentlemen off with some drinks?”

  “I’ll have a Kokanee,” Rylan said. He rested his forearms on the table and leaned closer to Brett. “Favorite beer.”

  Brett remember Rylan was a bit of a beer aficionado. He looked up at the waitress. “Snakebite, please.”

  The waitress grinned. “That’s one of the bartender’s specialties. Do you need more time looking over the food menu?”

  Brett looked at Rylan and asked, “I’m ready, how about you?” Rylan waved him on and Brett continued, “I’ll have the Porterhouse, rare, house salad,” he paused and met Rylan’s gaze for a second. “Baked potato with the works.”

  “And for you, sir?” She turned to Rylan.

  Rylan handed her the menu and at first Brett thought he was going to have to get insistent about Rylan getting some food into him. “The lasagna and house salad.”

  “Someone will be right back with your drinks.” She left and a minute later a man brought two glasses with their beverages.

  “Would you tell me what happened? Your perspective?” Brett finally asked. He sipped his drink and waited for Rylan to start talking.

  Rylan took a long quaff of his beer then set the glass down. He studied the table top for a minute before looking back up and meeting Brett’s gaze. “A bunch of us went out after an early show, do some shopping, get some food, that sort of thing. Clive came with us, so did the significant others of a few people. We socialize together. Celia and Clive went to this little row of shops, strip mall sort of thing. There’s an ice cream place, jeweler, antique store, those sort of places. There was a photographer’s shop nearby and I went there. I wanted to get Celia and Clive an engagement gift and I thought a photo package would be nice.”

  Brett nodded. “It was very thoughtful.”

  “I’m in the photographer’s office, going through options and the next thing I know there are sirens and commotion. My phone is exploding with calls from the others I was with,” Rylan stopped and shrugged. “They said Celia died right away and the theory is Clive tried to fight their attackers off. They were mugged.”

  “Mugged,” Brett echoed. “The detective I spoke with on the phone didn’t seem convinced.”

  “That’s what the official word was, mugging gone wrong,” Rylan said softly. “The detective, Lindsey Swift, she’s a nice lady, but she said there’s not enough evidence to call it anything but a tragic accident.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I believe she told me what she could.”

  “I have an appointment with her at ten tomorrow morning. Coming with?” Brett asked.

  Rylan’s face flooded with relief, his shoulders relaxed, and he sighed deeply. “Yes. Thank you. I was afraid that when you got here—”

  Brett stopped him right there. “That I’d cut you out of the loop. Rylan, you and Celia started skating together when you were what? Six, eight? You know as much about her as I do, as anyone does. You’re family. I’d never do that to you.”

  “I wasn’t sure, I mean I’m not really—”

  Their food arrived and Brett pointed to Rylan’s plate. “Stop talking and eat.”

  Rylan stared at him then looked down at his food.

  Brett sighed. “I could’ve come here and done all of this without ever talking to you, or seeing you. Think about that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rylan took a sip of his beer. “I’ve been a little muddled.”

  Brett waved his fork at Rylan’s food and smiled softly when he finally began to eat. “We’ll both be thinking more clearly when the blood sugar is up to normal.”

  Rylan nodded as he chewed but didn’t say any more. Their dinner was quiet and they didn’t do much catching up, but Brett felt a warmth and comfort being with Rylan. He had the impression Rylan was feeling the same, since as the evening progressed his body and voice were less tense. By the time they were on their way back to Rylan’s room Brett was exhausted and didn’t doubt he’d be able to sleep.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in the bed?” Rylan asked as Brett opened the chair and arranged the pillow and blankets.

  Brett’s breath caught. “Huh?” Sleeping in a bed with Rylan was probably not a smart idea. Not right now anyway.

  “That chair seems sort of small.” Rylan shrugged and pointedly looked from Brett to the chair. “You’re a big guy.” He chuckled. “Me, not so much.”

  Brett stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt and slid under the blankets. “This is fine.” He shimmied around for emphasis. “Actually, it’s pretty comfortable.”

  Rylan settled in his bed and switched off the lights. “If you change your mind we can swap.”

  “Good night, Rylan.”

  “Sleep well.”

  Chapter 2

  Rylan woke up and rolled over, nearly jumping out of his skin. Brett was sitting in the chair paging through the program book again. He must’ve heard Rylan start because he jerked straighter and looked up sharply at Rylan.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I…uh…I forgot you were here.”

  “Sorry. You were really out. I’m glad you’re up because I’ve been sneaking around this room for an hour. I was starting to creep myself out,” Brett said.

  “You can have that if you want it.” Rylan pointed to the book Brett clutched. “I have others.” He yawned and stretched. “That’s the first decent sleep I’ve had since…that day.”

  Brett’s expression softened. “Thanks.” He stood up and Rylan wondered how long he’d been awake considering he was shaved and dressed in a suit. “Our appointment with the detective isn’t until ten. I thought we could grab a fast breakfast and swing by the hospital first.”

  Rylan swung out of bed. “They probably won’t let us in.”

  Brett shrugged and said, “Doesn’t matter. I just feel I should show up in person to ask about him.” He rolled the book up and shoved it into his jacket pocket and shrugged into his overcoat. “I’ll go arrange a rental and meet you in the coffee shop?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Rylan dressed quickly, this time also donning suit and tie. He didn’t recall Brett always dressing in such a business-like manner, but at home in Montana he’d have no reason to. Rylan reminded himself Brett was a major investor in a restaurant chain, the business attire probably became a habit at some point. He made a mental note to tell Brett how much he liked the look.

  Having Brett stay with him was nice, and how Brett looked at him was even nicer. Despite the tragic events of the last few days having Brett notice—finally—that Rylan wasn’t that skinny little kid anymore lifted his spirits. Celia had commented a few times that she thought Rylan would be good for Brett. That they’d be good for each other. He decided to take any opportunity to find out if Brett thought as his sister had.

  When Rylan arrived in the hotel coffee shop Brett met him with a tall paper cup of coffee and a breakfast bagel full of warm cream cheese, ham, avocado, and scrambled eggs.

  “Wow, thanks. How’d you know what I liked?” Rylan sipped the coffee. “Now I’m doubly impressed. You got m
y order perfectly.” Brett shrugged, took a drink of his own coffee then a bite of his food. His eyes had a roguish glint and he bobbed his eyebrows a few times. Rylan bumped his elbow against Brett’s. “Seriously, how did you know?”

  Brett swallowed, took another gulp of coffee, and licked his lips, grinning mischievously while he jerked one thumb over his shoulder. “I told the girl at the counter I was trying to impress you and she said double shot mocha cappuccino and that bagel would make you fall into bed with me.”

  Rylan leaned around Brett and looked toward the counter. The girl there was maybe twenty at the most, with pink streaks in her dyed black hair. He’d talked to her almost every day they’d been in that hotel. She gave Rylan a thumb up while she waited on other customers. “She said that?”

  Brett snorted a laugh. “Not in so many words. Her actual quote was you’ve said their bagel sandwiches and cappuccinos are almost better than sex.”

  “I may have said that, but it doesn’t mean—”

  “That you didn’t want me to buy you breakfast?” Brett asked innocently.

  Rylan opened his mouth, shut it, and took a bite, then another, chewing slowly. “This is pretty good and I do like a guy who takes charge. Thanks.” He grinned. “I hope you gave her a good tip.”

  “Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.” Brett nodded. “And I gave her a great tip.” Was it possible Brett was trying to answer the same relationship questions as Rylan? At this point he wasn’t even sure Brett wanted something deeper than friendship. Then again, what was the saying? You don’t find love and relationships, they find you. Or something along those lines.

  Brett finished off his breakfast and glanced at his watch. “Our rental car should be here.” He tossed his wrapper into the garbage and took his cup, heading toward the hotel lobby. Without looking back, he asked, “Coming?”