The Growing Season

by Diana Copland

  “Ex-boyfriend?” Sam caught the shirt, and removed his button-down. Danny studied the wiry width of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach, the angles of the hipbones that arched above the top of his jeans. He had a body like a swimmer, lean and sculpted without any extra fat. Danny liked it. A lot.

  “No, I stole it from my dad before I split from home. It was soft.”

  “Hmm.” Sam pulled the shirt on over his head. It was large but looked comfortable. “Dad’s big?”

  “A big asshole.”

  Sam glanced up at Danny before he pulled a cell phone out of his back pocket and deposited it on the bedside table, then unbuttoned his jeans.

  Danny backed toward the door. “I’ll be right out in the lounge. You know, if you need me.” An odd trembling had started behind his navel, and he realized he was nervous. Stupid, when all he was going to do was say good-night and go sleep in the other room. Sam stood to push his jeans down his legs, and Danny saw that Sam filled out his jockeys just fine. The sight made his mouth go dry.

  “I’ll just be—” He opened the door, the need to escape warring with his desire to look his fill. Sam was long and lean, and beautiful. He tossed his jeans aside and sat again, his head lowered. Moonlight from the window washed his pale knees, skimmed over the fair skin of tautly muscled thighs. The hair on his legs was pale and looked soft.

  “Good night, Sam.” Danny turned to go.

  “Danny.”

  He stopped, steeled himself, and turned back. Sam was staring at him, his dark eyes solemn.

  “Yeah?”

  “Could you...” Sam paused, and then lifted his hand. “Stay? Please.”

  Sam’s long fingers were silently beckoning. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to. He wanted to lie next to Sam, to hold him, to offer him what comfort he could. But the thought it might go further scared him. What if he had a flashback and flipped out or something? The shrink had said he had PTSD. Wasn’t that what happened?

  “Sam, I—”

  “Just—I don’t want to be alone, Danny. That’s all. Please.”

  It was the entreaty in his eyes that finally did it. The bald, aching sorrow that Danny simply wasn’t immune to. He covered the space between the door and the bed and took Sam’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Sam murmured. He looked at Danny’s jeans. “Don’t you want to change?”

  Danny shook his head. “I sleep in jeans most nights, anyway” When he fell asleep after his nightly wanderings, he usually was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

  Sam gave him a quizzical look, but didn’t say anything. He scooted under the covers, close to the wall, holding the sheet and blanket up for Danny. Danny slowly toed off his shoes and crawled in behind him, lying on his back, settling the bedding at his waist.

  After several seconds that felt very long, Danny turned his head on the pillow. “Comfortable?”

  “It’s fine.”

  It was as quiet as the house ever was. Faint creaks and groans echoed through the long halls, the old floors popped and shifted. Danny hoped Sam would be able to sleep. After the past few days, he probably needed rest more than anything. He pulled the blankets over his shoulder and rolled to his side, facing away from Sam. The quiet between them deepened and lengthened, but Danny could tell by the stiffness of his body that Sam wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t surprised when he spoke.

  “Can I ask you something?” Sam’s voice was just above a whisper.

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  “Okay.”

  Danny felt Sam move; the old springs complained beneath them. The silence lasted so long that Danny finally turned onto his back and looked at him. Sam was on his side facing him, his hand tucked under his cheek, his eyes pensive. He still hesitated.

  “Sam? Whatever it is, you can ask it.” Danny hoped it wasn’t about his meltdown, because he didn’t know how he’d answer.

  Sam nodded, took a deep breath. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  Danny knew he looked startled. He was startled. Whatever he might have expected, it wasn’t that. But his reaction was apparently the wrong one for Sam, who rolled quickly to his back.

  “Never mind.”

  “No, I’ll answer you.”

  He could almost feel Sam cringe. “No, it’s stupid.”

  “It is not stupid.” Danny put as much quiet emphasis into his voice as he could.

  Sam looked at him uncertainly. “No?”

  “No. Now tell me, why do you ask?” He was clearly torn. “You can tell me, it’s all right. I won’t judge.”

  Sam studied Danny’s eyes in the dim light. Apparently, what he found reassured him. “This afternoon, when I got home from the hospice, I was the first one there. I walked into the house, and...my mom used to sing in the kitchen. I’d get home from school, and she’d be in the kitchen, and she’d be singing.” His dark eyes were wide. “I swear to God, Danny. I walked in the back door, and I could hear her in the kitchen. She was moving around, and she was singing. It’s like I was back in the fifth grade. She was singing some Billy Joel song and...I could hear her, so clearly. I just stood by the back door, too shocked to move. I was afraid I’d walk in and see her, but more afraid I wouldn’t. It stopped when Dad and Aunt Edie drove in the driveway, but I heard her.” He searched Danny’s face anxiously. “Do you think I’ve lost it?”

  Danny smiled. “No, I don’t think you’ve even remotely lost it.”

  “You don’t?” Sam was surprised.

  “Not at all.”

  “You don’t think I was just hearing what I wanted to?”

  Danny took his time before answering. “Maybe. You’d just lost her, and then you heard her where you have some of your fondest memories of her. It makes sense.”

  “So you don’t think it was...” Sam stopped.

  “What?”

  Sam sighed in the darkness. “It’s stupid.”

  “It isn’t stupid.”

  “I thought...”

  “Go ahead,” Danny urged softly.

  “I thought, I hoped, maybe she’d come back. For just those few moments. I wanted to believe she’d come back—” he swallowed, “—for me.”

  Danny rolled to his side and touched Sam’s face, fingertips gently sweeping over his cheekbone. “Why would I think that was stupid? You loved her. You still love her. If she was going to come back, why wouldn’t it be for you?”

  Sam closed his eyes tight, but not before Danny had seen pain in them. He was holding himself so stiff, so still, as if he could hold the hurt at bay if he just didn’t move. Danny stroked his thumb along his jaw line. “Sam, talk to me.”

  He inhaled raggedly. “There was so much drama over my being gay, so many fights, so many ugly things said. She never participated in any of it, but I know the way my dad and I went at each other hurt her. She must have wished...” He stopped and shook his head.

  “You think she wished you were straight?”

  “She never said, but—” Sam’s voice hitched, “—maybe. I mean, it would be understandable, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’m the wrong person to ask.”

  “I just sometimes wish it could have been different. That I could have been the son she wanted me to be.”

  “How do you know you weren’t?”

  Sam exhaled roughly and started to roll away, but Danny caught his shoulder in a firm grip and held him. “I’m serious. You’ve talked about how your dad feels and how your aunt feels, but even you said she never told you how she felt. How do you know you weren’t the son she wanted?” He eased his grip. “You want to know what I think? I think your mother was waiting for you when you came home this afternoon because you were precisely the son she wanted. Sometimes people die before they’ve said everything they meant to. Maybe that was her way of saying it.”

  Sam studied Danny’s eyes, then slowly reached up and pushed the long hair back from his forehead, his fingers trembling slightly. �
�You sure you’re twenty-one?”

  Danny pressed his face into Sam’s palm. “That’s what the birth certificate says.”

  “You keep doing this, being wise beyond...well, my years, anyway. Why is that?”

  Danny smiled faintly. He didn’t think Sam was ready for that story yet. “Pure dumb luck.”

  Sam chuckled, sounding drained. “I don’t think so. But I’m too tired to argue with you now.” His eyes moved over Danny’s face, feature by feature. “Can I hold you?”

  Danny hesitated only a moment. “How about I hold you, instead.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Danny shifted higher on the mattress, and Sam laid his head over Danny’s heart. Danny encircled Sam’s broad shoulders and held him, one hand lifting to sift through the strands of soft, sun-lightened hair. It was quiet for a while, and Danny closed his eyes.

  “Danny?” Sam’s voice sounded thick with near sleep.

  “Hmm?”

  “You never said if you believe in ghosts.”

  Danny smiled up into the darkness. “I didn’t?”

  “Huh-uh.”

  “I promise to answer that soon, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Sam relaxed against him, and his slow, steady breathing told Danny when he’d fallen asleep. He stroked the long line of his back through the soft cotton of the T-shirt, loving the feeling of the solid muscles and Sam’s soft breath against his neck.

  He felt so close to Sam, it was almost as if they’d had sex, and were lying there in the afterglow. When just the thought sent a shiver of unease through him, Danny closed his eyes in misery. He was never going to get past it, ever. He took and released a deep breath, then lifted one of his hands to the back of Sam’s head, his fingers slipping into the heavy softness of his hair. At least he could touch. Until Sam figured out how hopeless he was.

  Danny lifted his eyes and stared at the shadows shifting on his bedroom ceiling, determined to stay awake. There was no way he was going to risk having a nightmare while Sam was in his bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Danny woke with a start. Sam was still asleep, and somehow during the night they’d reversed places and Danny lay beneath his weight. Sam’s face was pressed against Danny’s neck, and Danny’s arms were wrapped around Sam’s waist. Startled he’d been able to sleep at all, he was also more rested than he’d been in as long as he could remember. That realization was almost immediately eclipsed by the part of Sam that was wide awake and pressing into Danny’s thigh.

  Danny had a similar scenario going on inside his jeans, and he tried to move to ease the tight pull across his groin. He ran his hand gently through Sam’s mussed hair, carding the silky strands through his fingers.

  “Sam.” Danny hated to wake him up, but he couldn’t move.

  Sam woke slowly, shifting his legs and then burrowing his face into the center of Danny’s chest.

  “Sam.” Danny dropped his hand to Sam’s back and rubbed in a slow circle. “Come on. You need to wake up.”

  Sam mumbled and moved his hips, pressing his erection into Danny’s leg. He made a deep, needy sound. Danny stiffened.

  “Sam,” Danny repeated, closing his eyes against a rush of want mingled with the nervous fluttering of his pulse.

  “Hmm?” Sam tried to tighten his hold, but Danny pushed and was able to slide out from under him. He stood, relieved when only minor discomfort resulted when he put weight on his foot.

  Sam made a sound of disappointment and lifted his head, his eyes opening slowly, as if he had to work at it. When he looked around the room, and then up at him, Danny saw all of it come rushing back. Where he was, why he was here... He groaned and dropped his face back onto the bed.

  “What time is it?” His voice was muffled.

  Danny glanced at his bedside clock. “Seven.”

  Sam grunted, then sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ran his hands roughly through his hair, then rearranged his straining cock inside his Jockeys. When he looked up to find Danny watching him, his face filled with color.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” A red stain spread across his cheekbones despite Danny’s assurances.

  “I need to go.” Sam stood and grabbed his jeans off the bedroom floor and stepped into them, shoving his cell phone into his back pocket.

  “Would you like some breakfast? Or coffee?”

  Sam shook his head. “I’ll grab something at home. No doubt Aunt Edie is already there, baking up a storm.” The look on his face showed his distaste with the idea. “I need to see the girls. We still have stuff to sort out before the funeral.”

  “Okay.” Danny leaned against the door, waiting as Sam finished dressing.

  He was stepping into his shoes when he looked up at him. “Will you come?”

  Danny frowned slightly in incomprehension.

  Sam colored again and looked down as he tied his shoes. “Never mind.”

  “Wait. Did you mean will I come to your mom’s funeral?”

  Sam stood, shaking down his pant legs. “You don’t have to.”

  Danny caught his arm, looking up into his tight face. “I want to. If you’re asking, I’ll be there.”

  Several expressions passed over Sam’s face, but primary among them was relief. “I’m asking.”

  “Then of course. When is it?”

  “That’s something we’re still sorting out. Can I call you?”

  “Sure.” Danny reached around Sam and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and entered his contact information. He returned the phone, then grabbed his off the dresser and dropped it into one of his pockets.

  When he reached to open the bedroom door, Sam stopped him. He stared into Danny’s face, lifting his hand, brushing the dark bangs out of his eyes.

  “You need a haircut,” he murmured.

  Danny huffed. “I’ll have you know this is a very cool haircut.”

  Sam’s lips quirked. “If you’re Justin Bieber at fifteen, maybe.”

  “Hey!” Danny smacked his arm.

  Sam wrapped his arms around Danny and hugged him tight, chuckling in his ear. “I’m teasing you.” The brush of his breath over Danny’s ear sent chills down his spine. “It’s just that it hides so much of your face, and that’s a shame.” When the hug ended, Sam lowered his head without hesitation and touched Danny’s lips in a soft, tender kiss. Danny kissed him back, morning breath and all.

  Sam caught Danny’s hand as they left the bedroom.

  There was no one on the stairs or in the lounge, and Danny was grateful. He knew if anyone was up they’d have seen Sam’s truck in the driveway. He never for one moment figured he was lucky enough that they’d all still be sleeping.

  Danny unlocked and opened the heavy front door, and Sam paused. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “You’ve got my number.”

  Sam patted his pocket. Danny stepped out onto the porch with him, wrapping his arms around his chest to ward off the chill.

  “If you need me—” He held Sam’s eyes.

  Sam nodded, sparing him a slight smile before he turned and went down the steps. Danny watched as he climbed into his truck and backed out down the driveway.

  He went into the house, heading for the kitchen. The lure of a bottle of Yoo-hoo was strong.

  They were all there, including Will. He had his own place still, but was there at breakfast several days a week. Devon was sitting at the block nursing a cup of coffee, Cal was leaning against the counter with a mug in his hands, and Will was standing next to him at the stove, stirring something in a skillet.

  “Well, good morning, sunshine.” Devon’s voice was raspy. “Have a nice sleepover?”

  “You know—” Will glanced over his shoulder at Danny, “—I’m not sure how I feel about having a strange man sleeping under the same roof I am.”

  Danny gave him a wry look. “I feel precisely the same way when you sleep here.”

  Will grunted and grab
bed his chest. “You wound me, Daniel, you really do.”

  “Can you do something about him?” Danny said to Cal. “No one should be that fucking cheerful at this time in the morning.”

  Devon lifted his mug. “Amen.”

  “Afraid not.” Cal set his coffee aside and went to the refrigerator. “He’s always been this way.” He tossed Danny a bottle of Yoo-hoo. “And I can’t return him, I forgot to keep the receipt.”

  “Take him back anyway. Tell them he’s defective.”

  Will lowered his brows. “You know, I’m getting a distinctly unfriendly vibe here this morning. If you don’t stop, you won’t get any of my famous breakfast scramble.”

  Devon mumbled something like “There’s a tragedy,” but he didn’t say anything further. Just frowned and sipped his coffee.

  Danny dropped onto a stool next to him.

  “So, seriously,” Will said a few minutes later as he dished up his concoction for Cal, Danny and himself. Devon passed. Danny sniffed it experimentally, and it actually smelled pretty good. “How’s Sam doing?”

  Danny picked up his fork. “He’s okay, I guess. Sad, but then, you know.”

  Will nodded and sat across from Danny. “His mom was terrific. I’ve known her since grade school. Sam and I played Little League together. She was like the team mom, always baking—”

  “—brownies.” Danny looked down at his plate with a melancholy smile.

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “Sam told me. With Audrey, it was—”

  “—chocolate chip cookies,” Devon and Cal said in unison, and then exchanged a look.

  They didn’t speak much after that until Cal was clearing the dishes, and Will and Devon lingered over their coffee. The phone in Danny’s pocket buzzed, and he quickly fished it out.

  3 p.m. Thursday, Elk Ridge Congregational Church.

  He texted I’ll be there, and waited.

  A moment later, I’ll call you tonight appeared.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “It was Sam, telling me when the funeral is.”

  “And?” Devon prodded.