“He’s not gonna be interested after all this time. He’s got a life of his own now,” Ben said, more to remind himself than to inform Eliot.
Sam was bound to have a life of his own. He had an established career, and he’d always quietly wanted to settle down with a partner, so he would have by now. If he was coming to see Ben, it was just to get in touch with an old friend.
There was no room for them to get back what they’d had. The ocean of crap between them had been much, much wider than the Atlantic.
If Sam had wanted to come back to Ben, he could have done it anytime. Ben still lived in the same apartment Sam had helped him move into years ago. He’d never exactly been hard to find.
“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be nearly as disappointed as you are,” Eliot said.
“Wishful thinking,” Ben murmured. He didn’t want to think Sam was gone. He’d spent a lot of time telling himself he really was coming back, any second.
The first time he’d told someone he was bi, Ben had almost expected to see Sam the next day. As though he would have heard the soft confession across the ocean and swooped in, now that Ben was finally ready to be with him.
When it didn’t happen, Ben should have accepted that it was never going to.
He hadn’t, though. Not really. Seeing Sam standing in his office was the culmination of a thousand fantasies, and in every single one of them he was the kind of man who had the balls to say he’d been in love with him, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever stopped, and he was sorry.
And more importantly, that he was ready and willing to beg for forgiveness if Sam was willing to give him another shot.
Instead, he’d said you look great, and been relieved when Eliot interrupted them.
Ben was not the man he thought he was inside his head.
“Well, I wouldn’t give up just yet,” Eliot said. “I hate to be a cliché asshole about this, but love really does change your life.”
Ben snorted. He was happy for Eliot, no question. He and Danny were the perfect, adorable couple, and so obviously in love that it made even Ben’s heart ache when he saw them together.
He’d given up on having that for himself a long time ago, though. It was probably time he started thinking about getting a cat instead.
“Did you come in here for something, or just to preemptively lecture me on my non-existent love life?” Ben asked, figuring it was about time to change the subject before he got maudlin.
More maudlin.
“I wanted to pitch something I think might be our Hail Mary,” Eliot nodded at the whiteboard.
Ben had been counting down the days until Ballsy was up for a project review. They’d done some good work, but nothing that, according to the higher-ups and the marketing department, made them worth the investment.
Normally, Ben would have argued that enlightenment was worth any price, but he knew it’d only fall on deaf ears.
He’d genuinely believed people would care about the truth, now more than ever. But if the truth wasn’t packaged into shareable info-bites, most people couldn’t be bothered with it.
That had been how it was since the very first newspaper had been printed, and he was a fool for thinking it would ever change.
This wasn’t the project Ben had been promised it would be yet—nor the project he’d promised Eliot it would be—but it had potential, if it didn’t get shut down. They just needed to make it past this first hurdle.
“I do want to hear it, but I want it noted for the record that you just used a sports metaphor. Correctly, even.”
“Danny’s rubbing off on me.” Eliot smirked. “I’ll get what I’ve got so far.”
Ben sat back, waiting for Eliot to grab his things, and pointedly didn’t think about any people from his past who’d might have come into his office and turned his entire day on its head in the space of three minutes.
Chapter Three
LA was almost a completely different city than Sam remembered. The streets, the landmarks, they were the same, but the people seemed alien to him.
He’d spent the past few days trying to work out what made this place home, and kept coming back to one conclusion: Ben had made it home, and now he didn’t have the guts to talk to Ben.
It probably wasn’t that LA was any different. It was Sam who was different, changed by his travels, trying to come back to a place that had never really existed. He’d been happy here because of his friends. Because of one friend in particular.
For every hour that passed, he was starting to feel more and more like he’d made a mistake in coming back. Where else would he have gone, though? He’d seen everything he wanted to see. Home had felt like the only place to go.
Except Sam wasn’t so sure he had a home anymore. He’d spent so much time running from the heartbreak he’d felt here that he didn’t really have anywhere to go.
So here he was, wandering aimlessly, trying to find something familiar to cling to in a world he couldn’t help but feel wasn’t his anymore.
A coffee shop that had been in the same spot since before he left beckoned him. That one sliver of the past would have to be enough to sustain him for now.
It wasn’t exactly as he remembered it, but at least the name had stayed the same. That was something. The change had probably been so gradual that a local wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
“You stalking me?”
Sam turned, shocked, and found Ben standing behind him, having practically followed him inside.
“Uh, I think you’ll find I was here first,” he said automatically.
“So you’re saying I’m stalking you?” Ben raised an eyebrow.
Despite his surprise, Sam managed to laugh. It wasn’t a particularly good joke, but it was obviously meant to be one.
At least they were both equally awkward around each other right now.
“I see you’re still listening to Dad Rock,” Ben nodded to Sam’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
“People in musical taste glass houses shouldn’t throw stones at the classics. Or are you over your pop-punk phase?”
Ben cleared his throat, which Sam took as a no. “It would be a little too on the nose to say it’s not a phase, mom, right now, huh?”
“Not for you,” Sam said.
This time, Ben laughed. It seemed just a tiny bit more comfortable.
“I’m sorry I hadn’t gotten in touch yet,” Ben said, as though it had been more than twenty-four hours since they last ran into each other. “Work’s been… work.”
“Big deadline coming up?” Sam asked, remembering the note on the whiteboard in Ben’s office.
“Something like that. But, uh, I’m taking an enforced break right now, so if you’ve got time for a cup of coffee…”
Sam wet his lips. The one second he had to come up with an excuse flew by, and he was left without one.
Maybe he didn’t really want one. The deep sense of homesickness he’d been feeling two minutes ago had already eased with Ben around, even if they were still a little awkward together.
“I’ve got time,” Sam said.
“Great.” Ben smiled at him. It was a bright, earnest smile of the kind that Ben didn’t just hand out to everyone. Only special people got to be on the receiving end of one of Ben’s smiles.
It was a relief to know that he was still included in that group. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they’d seemed, after all.
“If you grab a table, I’ll get coffee. Same as always.”
“Same as always,” Sam agreed. “Some things never change.”
Ben smiled at him again—and if one smile was rare, two was practically unheard of—and headed to the counter.
He’d obviously mellowed out a little in the last few years.
Sam let the smell of coffee and the background of coffee shop chatter soothe him while he watched Ben order. He’d taken to wearing fitted pants that showed off his butt really nicely.
Not that Sam was looking at his butt.
It had just always been one of his best features, so it was hard to miss.
He wondered if the wardrobe change had been Eliot’s doing. Though Sam had only seen him for a handful of seconds, it had been impossible to miss that he was well-dressed.
Not that Ben had ever been scruffy, but his sense of style had been limited to being neat enough for work. When he wasn’t working, he went for comfort. Now, his outfit seemed a little more deliberate.
It suited him, the understated elegance of black pants and a white button-down shirt, both of which fitted him properly. It wasn’t a bad change at all.
Sam managed a smile as Ben came back over carrying two coffees. He didn’t feel like smiling, exactly, but Ben’s presence was helping.
“I need this,” Sam said as he accepted the coffee he was offered. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And now I have no idea where to start,” Ben said.
“You look so happy,” Sam blurted out. It was true. It was all he could think about at the moment. He could see the stress of whatever deadline Ben was working under weighing on him, but generally, he seemed like a happier man. More settled, more comfortable in his own skin.
It was beautiful to see. Ben had grown up and blossomed into the confident man he’d always been destined to be. Sam regretted more than ever that he’d missed that. That he hadn’t waited around to see it happen.
That he hadn’t helped it happen. At least, not by being here.
He did realize that maybe this meant he’d been holding Ben back. Maybe leaving had been the kindest thing he could have done for him.
Which meant he didn’t belong back here now.
“Uh. Thank you, I think,” Ben said. “Wow. That’s so weird to hear. Eliot keeps telling me it wouldn’t kill me to smile sometimes.”
Sam’s stomach turned at the mention of Eliot. He didn’t wish any harm to the other man, but he was, well… he was the other man. He’d taken Sam’s place in Ben’s life. A little jealousy didn’t seem unreasonable.
“He hasn’t known you as long as I have,” Sam said. It was petty, but it did make him feel a little better. For a half second.
Until Ben smiled fondly, obviously thinking of Eliot again. “No, he hasn’t. But he’s a very fast learner.”
“You wouldn’t waste any time on him if he wasn’t,” Sam said.
Whatever else Eliot might be, he’d be smart. Ben couldn’t tolerate people who weren’t, not for long.
Sam appreciated that Ben’s distaste for stupid people meant that he was probably an acceptable level of not stupid. Or that he was an exception to the rule.
“I think he knows that. He’s come a long way since I first met him. But I’d rather hear about your adventures, if you’re in the mood to share,” Ben said.
That felt good. Sam really, really liked the idea that Ben wanted to hear from him.
“Now I don’t know where to start,” Sam said, laughing. So much had happened over the last ten years.
“I saw that aerial photo of Paris you did recently,” Ben said. “Well, I say recently. It was probably more like…”
“Six months ago,” Sam finished for him. “Yeah, that was a cool shoot. I’d never been in a helicopter at night before. I’m not… totally sure my pilot had been, either. I turned around once and we were so close to a skyscraper I thought I could probably reach out and touch it.”
“I bet you loved that,” Ben said.
“I did, yeah.” Sam paused to sip his coffee. “Everyone else I tell that story to says it must have been scary.”
“I’m sure normal people would have been afraid. The Sam I know isn’t afraid of anything.”
“Not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”
“It’s a compliment,” Ben confirmed. “Normal is boring. I’m really glad you haven’t changed.”
Sam looked down at his cup. He had changed. Ben just hadn’t seen any of that yet, or noticed it.
Maybe it was better to get away before he did. Leave him with the impression of the indestructible man he once knew, instead of the damaged one he was now.
“Look at you, though,” Sam said, changing the subject. “Editor at a major publication. I didn’t think you were ever getting out of the bullpen with your attitude.”
Ben chuckled at that. “Luckily, Cocky was hiring for attitude. They actually approached me. I realize now that I was there for actual journalism cred, but it’s been a good five years. Well, mostly good. Also mostly stressful.”
“You wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t stressful. You live for stress,” Sam said. Ben was the most type-A person he’d ever met. If something wasn’t looming over him, he got unsettled and fidgety. He needed something to work on all the time.
Sam, on the other hand, was happy to take months off after a well-paying gig. When he’d lived in LA, he’d spent those months hanging out with Ben, whether Ben liked it or not.
He had eventually come to like it.
They’d both come to like it, which had been the beginning of the problem.
“I’m glad you’ve had time to accept that,” Ben said, holding his coffee cup close to his chest.
“I just want you to take a break one day,” Sam said. “You know. Before you die. Just so you find out what it’s like.”
“I actually did take a holiday once,” Ben responded.
Sam burst into laughter. Once. One holiday. In ten years.
Lots of things about Ben had changed, but lots of things had stayed the same. “Where did you go?”
“New Orleans. They wanted a reporter on the ground there, so I stuck my hand up.”
“That’s… not a holiday. That’s a work trip.” Sam blinked at him. He shouldn’t have expected anything different, but he’d been caught off-guard.
Ben shrugged, as though there was no difference between those two things. “It was a holiday for me.”
Sam chuckled again. Ben was never good at taking breaks. “Close enough, I guess.”
A surprisingly comfortable silence fell over the table, both men sipping their coffee quietly and people-watching. Well, Ben was people watching. Sam was taking the opportunity to watch Ben when he wasn’t looking.
He was falling in love all over again with everything Ben had become. With the comfortable way he held himself. With his slightly-too-long hair. With the way his smiles came easier these days.
That was a dangerous train of thought. Ben had moved on. Sam couldn’t be anything more than a background character in his life, now.
And that would kill him, so it was better for this to be goodbye. One last memory, just enough time together to determine that Ben was okay, and to fool Ben into thinking that he was okay, too.
Closure. That was what this would be.
They both deserved that. They were an unfinished chapter in each other’s lives, and while this wouldn’t exactly wrap everything up with a bow, it would mark the end.
Even if Ben didn’t know it yet.
Ben took out his phone for a moment, checking the time, and then tucked it back into his pocket. “I gotta get back. But I will text you soon, and we’ll have a real catch-up,” he said.
“Sure,” Sam agreed, smiling to hide the fact that he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was going straight back to his hotel room to plan his getaway. “I enjoyed this, though.”
“Me too.” Ben stood, tucking his chair under the table neatly. He never liked to create any work for service staff. He went out of his way not to.
Sam waved at him as he walked away, wrapping his fingers around his coffee cup. It was a warm day outside, but he suddenly felt very, very cold.
Chapter Four
Ben wasn’t accustomed to being nervous about meetings with management—he wasn’t afraid of them, and he was confident enough in his skills not to fear for his job—but this was a special case.
Ballsy was on an eight-day time limit to prove itself, so every time he was called in for a one-on-one meeting, Ben worried that this was
the one where they pulled the plug. He’d been promised a full quarter to get the project on its feet, but he knew it wasn’t going well.
He wouldn’t have been happy if management decided to scrap it early, but he wouldn’t have been all that surprised. Times were tough in the world of investigative journalism.
“Ben!” Claire enthused as he walked in. That wasn’t a good sign. “Take a seat.”
Ben liked Claire. She was smart, and shrewd, and she’d never had any trouble standing up to anyone at a magazine that had a ninety-percent male staff.
That didn’t mean he thought for a second that she was on his side. Only that she’d do what was best for the magazine.
The mood boost he’d gotten from seeing Sam earlier all but evaporated.
Ben sat cautiously, on the edge of his chair, as though he might have to run away at any moment.
“Don’t look so worried. We just need to borrow Eliot back over the weekend for something important,” she said, smiling a smile that didn’t encourage Ben not to worry.
It was the smile of realtors and used car salesmen. The one that screamed trust me so loudly you couldn’t see what they were hiding behind it.
“Eliot’s just started working on what I think will be a very important piece,” Ben said, as diplomatically as he could. “I’d hate to drag him off it. It’s time sensitive. If you need a good reporter, I can recommend—”
“We need a married reporter,” Claire said. “There aren’t many of those around here. This place attracts bachelors.”
Ben couldn’t help but feel personally attacked by that statement, though he knew it probably wasn’t intended that way. A little pointed, maybe, meant to push his buttons so he’d do what he was told, but not maliciously.
“What the hell for?” Ben asked. Why would it matter if they were married?
Claire raised an eyebrow that said it was none of Ben’s business. That was too bad.
“You’re asking me to tell Eliot because you know he’ll take the assignment coming from me, but he might not from you,” Ben said. It was common knowledge that Eliot could walk away anytime—it was also common knowledge that he was one of their brightest sparks, so management had been working on a balancing act between getting him to work on things they needed someone on, and keeping him happy enough to stop him from quitting.
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