Dean snorted. “You dork.”
AIDEN was only partially joking. The Octopus wasn’t a particularly scary ride, by most people’s standards. The bench seats swirled around, and the arms that held them dipped up and down, but never got more than twenty or so feet off the ground. Still, it had terrified him as a boy. Dean had had to twist his arm to get him to go on the stupid thing, and he’d embarrassed himself by screaming—more than once.
What he remembered most, though, was being pressed up against Dean. Dean’s arm was hidden from prying eyes, but it was wrapped around his waist, holding him tight. Aiden knew he wouldn’t fall. Dean would never let anything bad happen to him.
“Let’s go on!”
Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. “You hated it the last time. Have you been cheating on our Octopus with other Octopi?”
“It’s Octopodes,” Aiden replied haughtily, “and no. I would never be caught on one of those deathtraps without you to keep me from falling off.”
For a split second, Dean’s expression looked pained. Then he coughed and glanced away. “Well, then… let’s do it!”
Aiden understood that pained look in Dean’s eyes. It was the look of someone who knew he was about to lose everything he cared about. Aiden didn’t know how to comfort him, so he grinned and pulled on Dean’s hand, practically dragging him into the line for the ride.
Once past the gate, he annoyed Dean by running from one of the suspended seats to another and peering inside, regardless of whether or not they were occupied. The other riders looked at him as if he were crazy, and Dean finally shouted, “What are you doing, you idiot? They’re all the same!”
“No, they’re not!”
At last he found the seat he was looking for. Unfortunately, a young man and his date were occupying it. “Excuse me, but would you mind switching seats with us?”
“Huh?” The youth gaped at him. “What for?”
“This is our seat.”
“Dude….” He looked as if he might be about to lose his temper, but his girlfriend laughed and tugged his sleeve.
“Come on, Wyatt. There are plenty of open ones.”
“Yes,” Dean muttered as Wyatt and the young woman stepped down, “there are plenty of open ones.”
Aiden climbed up into the seat and sat down. “But this one’s lucky.”
“Aiden, I hate to break it to you, but these aren’t the same seats that were here seventeen years ago.” Dean sat beside him and latched the safety bar. “They replace parts over time, you know. This may not even be the same ride. I think they’re rented.”
Aiden pointed to a mark on his side of the seat.
“You’re not going to tell me you scratched our initials into this seat all those years ago, are you? There wouldn’t have been time!”
“Just look.”
Dean leaned forward across his lap to get a closer look. “It’s a heart.”
“It is,” Aiden agreed. “And I didn’t put it there. But I noticed it when we sat here before.” Truthfully, he wasn’t sure it was the same heart. People in love scratched hearts into everything—trees, benches, you name it. But it looked as if it could be the same one.
Dean sat up and regarded him with raised eyebrows. “Well, if it’s the same one, we’re probably gonna die together when this aging carnival ride breaks apart midway through.”
“How romantic.”
When the guy running the ride came around to make sure their safety bar was in place, Dean asked him, “Hey, guy, when was the last time this seat was replaced?”
“Is there a problem with it?”
“Not exactly….”
“All the rides are inspected at the beginning of each season,” the man replied gruffly, then walked off to look at the next seat.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Dean said, though only Aiden could hear him.
Aiden took his hand and held it in his lap. “We’ll be fine.” The ride itself still frightened him, but somehow he knew Dean would keep him safe. It didn’t matter if the Octopus flew apart into a million pieces while they were twenty feet off the ground, Dean had always looked out for him, and he would be safe.
When the inspection was over, the man closed the gate, and the seat gave a lurch as the ride started. Dean held Aiden’s hand tightly and pressed against his side.
WHEN they made love that evening, Dean was subdued. Afterward, they lay panting on the bed, overheated, blankets tossed off, but refusing to separate no matter how hot their skin felt. But even sex couldn’t disguise the tension between them.
“What do you want?” Aiden asked, when the silence drew on too long.
“Huh? I’m kinda wiped. I don’t think I need anything more.”
Aiden laughed. “Not that. I mean… if it were up to you, how would we work this out? You and me?”
“What do you think?” Dean asked, irritated. “You’d go to New York and be famous, like you’re meant to be. I’d stay here and fix people’s porch windows. It’s the way it has to be.”
Aiden stretched his long legs, sliding one of his knees down between Dean’s thighs. Dean’s cock swelled in response, though he doubted Dean was up to another round. “Nothing ‘has to be,’ Dean. I don’t have to go back to New York.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Dean growled.
“I’m just asking. If you could have whatever you wanted, how would we work this out?”
Dean gritted his teeth. “What I don’t want is for the man I love to waste his life here in the middle of nowhere just because he feels guilty for leaving!”
Do I feel guilty? Aiden had needed to leave Springhaven when he was a teenager. He was as certain of that now as he’d always been. But he was acutely aware of the pain he’d caused Dean the first time he left, and how much it would hurt Dean if he left again.
There was something else that hadn’t escaped his notice. “You said ‘the man I love.’”
“You don’t need to grin like a baboon about it,” Dean replied gruffly. He couldn’t look Aiden in the eye. “You know I’ve loved you since we were teenagers. I thought I’d gotten over it, but….” He rolled away, as if he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, but added quietly, “I still love you. I’ll always love you.”
Aiden slid toward him to take him into his arms, but as he opened his mouth, Dean snapped, “Don’t say it.”
“Don’t say what?”
“Don’t echo it back because you think it’s what I want to hear. I don’t need that. I don’t want it.”
“You don’t think I—”
“Stop.” Dean looked back over his shoulder and feigned a smile. “Let’s just go to sleep. We have to get up kinda early.”
That was an exaggeration. They didn’t have to be up until noon, when the rest of the septet was coming over for a rehearsal. Aiden had recommended against it. They knew the music by then, and going over it again that close to the performance wasn’t likely to accomplish much other than make them more nervous if it didn’t go perfectly. But he’d been outvoted.
He left the bed for a moment to use the bathroom, then returned to find Dean sleeping. Or pretending to be asleep. Aiden picked up the blankets and spread them out over him, then crawled into bed to snuggle up to Dean’s backside.
He wanted to say it or at least whisper it. Instead, he kissed the back of Dean’s neck gently. Dean sighed and slid his hand down to brush Aiden’s hip. Soon they were both asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“ARE there even this many people in Springhaven?” Ben asked nervously.
There did seem to be a huge crowd gathered in front of the bandstand this year, even while they were still setting up and testing their mics. Dean couldn’t recall the septet ever attracting this many people before. “I think some must be from out of town.”
“Why the hell would anyone bother coming to the July Fourth celebration in Springhaven if they didn’t live here?” Rick asked. “The fireworks in Berlin are a lot bigger.”
&n
bsp; The others nodded nervously.
Dean looked out across the crowd, not recognizing a lot of faces, then glanced at Aiden. “I think some of them are here because they heard about our new pianist.”
Aiden looked as if he might protest, but they were interrupted by a familiar voice shouting up at them. “Aiden! Dean! Isn’t this wonderful!”
“What are you doing up this way, Gregory?” Aiden asked, glancing at his bandmates uncomfortably.
Martel dragged his husband forward so they could peer up over the edge of the bandstand. “We just had to come! Nearly everyone in the orchestra drove up to see your performance.” He waved a hand disdainfully. “All except Jacob. He had a hot date or something. And we told all our friends!”
“Gregory,” Aiden protested, “this isn’t a classical music concert. We’re playing old jazz standards. I’m kind of a fish out of water with this type of music,” he added, though by Dean’s standards, he’d been doing a terrific job during their rehearsals. Jazz may not have been Aiden’s strong suit, but he was pretty good at faking it.
“I’m sure you’ll be fantastic, love,” Theodore enthused. “You always are.”
They blew Aiden and Dean kisses, then wandered back into the crowd. Aiden groaned and shook his head as he went back to checking cables.
Dean laughed and slapped him on the back. “Must be nice to have fans.”
“Fuck you.”
“Now how’s that going to look when the video goes viral?” Dean wondered briefly where the Lilac Ladies had gotten off to. Not that they were his “fans,” really, but he was surprised to find it hurt a little they hadn’t bothered to show up. They weren’t his family, but… well, they were as close as he had, since Opa died. Besides, this whole thing had been their idea. He’d expected them to come show their support.
Ah, well. Maybe they had early bedtimes.
Poor Ben had gone completely white. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Just focus on the music, Ben,” Aiden told him, his smile warm and affectionate. That was one of the things Dean loved about Aiden—one of the ten million things. Despite the haughty mask he wore during performances, he never talked down to his fellow performers, and was never rude or impatient with them. He seemed genuinely fond of the members of the septet. “I admit, it’s easier in a performance hall, where the lights are dim and you can’t see the audience clearly. But just look at your sheet music or the singer and lose yourself in the music. You’re an artist, and you’re creating something beautiful. That’s all that matters.”
Dean was tempted to tease Aiden a bit more—probably because he himself was nervous, and he knew Aiden was in a strong enough position to take a little ribbing. Though if he were being honest, there might also be a little anger fomenting under the surface. He’d tried to quash it, but it kept bubbling up, filling him with resentment at Aiden leaving yet again—leaving the town that was too small for him, the lover who could never be enough. But he saw the way Ben’s shoulders straightened and the pride that came into his eyes as Aiden spoke, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to spoil the moment.
THEY were a smash hit and probably not just because Aiden was performing with them. They were good. Ben was playing better than he had since he first joined the septet, now that he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. Rick was more focused, maybe because he needed to prove something—to himself, as well as to Sarah and the others. They’d all been pushing themselves during the rehearsals, worried the two-year hiatus and missing band members would spell disaster, and it showed. They’d never found a drummer, but they didn’t need one. Between Ben’s standing bass and Lisa’s guitar they had their rhythm. Aiden’s piano fleshed out the body of the music, so the trumpet, sax, and clarinet could toss the melodies back and forth and bat them around a bit.
Springhaven Town Park wasn’t exactly Carnegie Hall. Some people were sitting on blankets, watching them perform, but most wandered near the bandstand in between rides and stuffing their faces with fried dough, hot dogs, and candied apples. The septet had to compete with laughter and screams and canned calliope music, but it was wonderful. Dean had never enjoyed it so much, performing with his friends—and most of all, with Aiden.
When they’d finished their set, they received more applause than Dean had ever received in his life. To his delight, the Lilac Ladies had appeared at the front of the crowd, waving and jumping excitedly like groupies. Their tinted hair was brighter than usual and all different colors. Dean laughed aloud when he realized they’d purposefully lined up to form a rainbow.
Why, you silly old things.
He waved to them, and they tittered like schoolgirls.
AIDEN had been the center of attention more times than he could remember. Even in Manchester, he’d been the star, with a huge spotlight. He was delighted to be part of the septet—just one member, no more or less important than the others. Everyone was beaming proudly.
Then Martel, bless his heart, had to spoil the moment. “You were wonderful, Aiden! Magnificent!” To Aiden’s dismay the rest of the Manchester Philharmonic took up the chorus.
The members of the septet kept smiling—Rick even gave Aiden a friendly pat on the shoulder—but the pride in their expressions dimmed. With one well-intentioned compliment, Martel had taken the wind out of their sails. Had they really been good or had the professional musician in the group been carrying their weight? They weren’t sure anymore.
Note to self: strangle Martel the first moment we’re alone.
Aiden smiled and nodded politely, struggling to think of a way to fix the situation. There wasn’t much he could do, other than ignore it. If he insisted the septet had done most of the heavy lifting, he’d probably come across as condescending, the maestro making a polite gesture to redirect some of the applause to the orchestra.
Thankfully, his father came to the rescue. “Way to go, Ben! I haven’t heard a bass like that since I went to jazz clubs in New York City.”
“Are you saying I’m old?”
Everyone laughed, and Aiden breathed a sigh of relief. Thank you, Dad.
“You all did so wonderfully,” an old woman in the front exclaimed. Her hair was a startling shade of fluorescent green Aiden saw young people wearing in the cities, but would never have expected on someone her age. At least, not in Springhaven. “We’re so proud of you!”
After the applause died down, Dean moved close to one of the standing mics. “Unfortunately, that’s all there is folks.” He hesitated, while a chorus of disappointed groans rose up from the crowd; then he ducked down, close to Aiden’s ear, and lowered his voice. “That is, unless you don’t mind me embarrassing you.”
“How?” Aiden asked suspiciously.
“How are your hands doing?”
After deflecting attention from himself just a moment ago, this seemed a bit strange. Though at least it wouldn’t seem he was taking credit for the band’s performance, this way. “A little tired, but I’ll be fine. Do you want me to play something?”
“That wasn’t the embarrassing part,” Dean replied, his eyes twinkling. “I want us both to play something.”
Oh. Aiden had caught Dean practicing the Mozart in private, when he didn’t think anyone could hear. He wasn’t doing too badly at it. If he was willing to give it a go on stage, who was Aiden to stop him? “Lead on, maestro.”
DEAN returned to the microphone. “Just a second.” He was nervous as hell, but he wanted to do this—he wanted to perform in public with Aiden, just the two of them. Even if he played like a first-year clarinet student, at least he would have done it.
Dean took a breath and, after a brief hesitation, raised his clarinet to his lips. Aiden readied his hands on the keyboard, and their audience hooted and applauded. Dean waited for silence, or as close to silence as he expected to get, then blew the first note.
It was beautiful, performing with the man he loved—a man who’d become a world-renowned concert pianist. Dean would have been honored, even if Aiden had been
a stranger to him. But they weren’t strangers. For the brief flicker of time they had left, they were lovers, and Dean poured all of that love, that desperation, that longing for a future he knew was impossible, into each note. If he’d been practicing alone at the farmhouse or even with Aiden in the Scotts’ music room, he would have made mistakes. He’d never managed to play the piece all the way through without slipping up in a couple of places. But not now. This chance would never come again, and he played better than he ever had before.
When the piece ended, Dean blinked, his eyes misting. Aiden looked up from the keyboard, and the raw emotion in his gaze struck Dean like a blow. He was usually so reserved, so difficult for Dean to read, but not now. In that one moment, Dean knew Aiden loved him, and the realization was agonizing.
Dean lowered the clarinet, and his whispered words were lost in the sounds of applause: “Don’t go.”
THOUGH it was difficult to hear over the crowd, Aiden caught the words, and any doubts or second thoughts he’d been harboring vanished. He stood and pulled Dean to him, nearly causing him to drop the clarinet as he claimed Dean’s mouth. For a moment he was lost in the taste and feel of the only man who’d ever truly stirred him, who’d ever truly loved him, and the doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind melted away.
This is right.
More hooting and good-natured teasing brought him back to reality. He broke the kiss, and nearly laughed at the goofy, embarrassed grin on Dean’s face.
“Get a room, you two!”
“Oops,” Dean muttered under his breath.
Aiden smirked, then leaned toward the microphone. “It’s the Fourth of July. You wanted to see some fireworks, didn’t you?”
“You better not wear him out,” someone shouted. “He’s supposed to fix a hole in my barn tomorrow morning.”
While everyone laughed, Aiden stepped away from the mic and leaned down to whisper in Dean’s ear. “I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Small Town Sonata Page 19
