by Z. Allora
He turned his attention to Cassidy, who cuddled into his mate, Erick. Corey truly didn’t begrudge Cassidy. The poor guy had waited as long and suffered even more than Corey had—Corey had Jackson.
Corey didn’t think he was a bad person, and he was happy for his friends who found their mates. Truly, nothing made his heart dance more than the thought of people finding love and their mate or mates.
However, sometimes an ugly, jealous rage bubbled inside of him when a new zombie didn’t even give a blowjob before his mate fell into his lap. Then it became difficult to focus on the fact that he had Jackson, who was amazing. And just knowing Jackson was mated to him made Corey all kinds of stupid-happy. Jackson had the dark good looks of Tyler Hoechlin, but his hair was a bit longer than the Teen Wolf star, his piercing eyes were blue, and he liked to be clean-shaven. He was smart and kind, and as tough as he appeared, he cried over sad stories. With Corey’s help, Jackson made a passable head of the household, though to be fair, Jackson wasn’t even aware—
“Oh, here’s Demon. Demon!” Storm shouted and waved.
Demon? Corey hadn’t heard that—
No fucking way.
Keith Demonico stood there in black leather as if he’d strutted out of Corey’s overactive imagination.
The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the quiet room.
“Corey!” Jackson raced to where he stood behind the bar. “Baby, are you—”
No! Can’t! Corey ducked down behind the bar with the broken glass at his feet, hoping he could vanish from sight.
His heart danced with demented happiness as it tried reaching out to absorb more than a glimpse of—
No!
Peeking over the bar, Jackson gave him a “did I finally fuck your brains out completely” face.
Corey shook his head and willed Jackson to understand and protect him… rescue him.
Footsteps, strong and confident, came closer.
“Jackson? Jackson Davis? Is that you?” That voice was deeper than it had been in high school, but fuck! It still had the power to wrap itself around Corey’s heart and tug, encouraging him to—
Jackson frowned over the bar once more and then turned away. “Um, yeah. Keith Demonico?”
The warmth in Jackson’s words surprised Corey, like Jackson had been missing Keith or something.
“It’s been a minute. You look good.” It sounded like Keith shook Jackson’s hand.
“Thanks, you too.” Jackson understated Keith’s movie-star looks, but Corey could hear the appreciation in his tone.
Did Jackson forget about him? No, the actual problem appeared to be that neither he nor Jackson had forgotten about Keith. A self-destructive part of his psyche made Corey clear his throat.
“Corey Anderson? Is that you? Aw, man. I searched for you everywhere.” Keith leaned over the bar and stared.
What? Why? Shut up!
“Yeah, and why’s that, Demon?” Corey stood to his full height, which probably only meant he came up to the asshole’s shoulder. Keith stood very close to Jackson.
Fuck, Corey could barely look at him, but aging hadn’t stolen any of his stunning good looks. His hair was shorter than in high school, with the dark waves now stopping at his shoulders. He looked leaner, and his cheekbones were more pronounced, but the lines around his eyes didn’t detract. Those eyes still made Corey feel like he could find himself in them.…
No!
Keith leaned forward, forcing Corey to inhale the scent that threatened to lull him into Demon’s thrall. “I wanted to apologize—”
What? No! I can’t do this again.
Corey vaulted over the bar and raced to the door, calling over his shoulder, “Take your apology tour elsewhere.”
“What was that?” Storm grimaced as the door shut.
Corey escaped before anyone answered.
His fast walk turned into a jog. Fuck, as if I could outrun the shit seeing that asshole dragged up.
The handful of glorious times he had made out with Keith taunted him in sexy detail. Maybe the thrill of his first kisses or the terror of getting caught making out in the back stairwell made everything more intense, but those stolen moments and heated touches meant more to him than they should have.
He broke into a full run.
Pounding his feet on the path around the pond didn’t stop the memories from flooding his brain. All the times he’d rubbed his body anxiously against Keith, and Keith had been right there with him, trembling in urgent need and unspent teenaged lust. Each time their lips locked, their bodies tried to outsmart their jeans, getting friction any way they could… getting as close to each other as possible. Until the grinding made them lose their grip on sanity and they were flung into an undeniable conclusion.
Hormones. Much of what he’d shared with Keith had been simply teen chemical-induced horniness. What couldn’t be explained away were the tender words and the deep connection—the feelings—that had seemed real.
It had been over two decades since he’d seen the demon of his nightmare. Why did he still feel like he’d give his soul to be Demon’s?
No, he was Jackson’s, and his mate would never betray him the way Keith had.
Out of breath, he came to a stop and sank onto the wrought-iron bench. The irony of where he found himself wasn’t lost on him. This was his go-to happy place his therapist had told him to visit whenever he was out of sorts. Dr. Patel had meant Corey should visualize the space, but sitting here usually calmed him when he got too much up into his head.
This was the exact place he’d sucked off Jackson that first time and confirmed what he’d already known in his heart. Right on this very bench under the flowering crepe myrtle, he’d got his mate… at least one of them. They’d even done the exchange here.
He rubbed a hand over his chest and closed his eyes. His heart ached more after seeing Keith.
The past should stay in the past. What in the ever-loving fuck was that asshole doing in Club Zombie?
And why did his heart race with excitement in the same way it had whenever Demon had been around?
“Corey.” Jackson appeared in front of him with his arms open.
Throwing himself into Jackson’s arms, he steadied himself. He needed to melt into him and forget about everything else. Yeah, he could sex himself out of the chaos in his head—
Jackson pulled back. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Bitter annoyance rode him. Not only was his escape route denied, but Jackson wanted to talk. Fine, they’d talk. He had questions. “You seemed chatty with the leather-clad nightmare.”
“We were friends….” Jackson’s gaze skittered away from him, and he stared up at the pink flowering tree.
Ah, he wasn’t the only one hoping to avoid things. “I knew you hung out with the same group he did, but… didn’t know you were close.”
Corey couldn’t have missed the connection Jackson seemed to have with Demon, even if he wanted to. The exchange made him super sensitive to Jackson’s emotions.
“Yeah… after you disappeared. We hung out more, once Perry… died. We got close. He’s a nice guy.” Did Jackson add the “nice” bit to justify his reaction to the guy?
“What do you mean you got close to him? Did he let you fuck him?” Corey spit out the jealous words without the rage behind them.
With the whole zombie multi-mate situation, he’d learned early on to adopt a polyamorous perspective of finding joy in what made your partner happy, even if that pleasure came from someone else.
They had the mating bond reassuring him of his place in Jackson’s world. But if Keith rejected Corey only to follow his instincts with the more straight-presenting Jackson, it might make him pissy for a bit.
“No! He just… we got to know each other better and, well—”
Part of him wished he could have seen them fucking or at least heard about every filthy detail. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t the quickest to connect the dots, but it was right there. “You
had feelings for him.”
Jackson plopped down next to him and studied the ground. “I never acted on them. He wasn’t gay.”
A bitter laugh came from a place that covered his mirth with fury. “Ha! Well then, he was awful good at faking it.”
“Wait… what?” Jackson stared at him.
Corey folded his arms over his chest and glared at the ducks swimming by.
“It was him?”
“Him, who?” Yeah, playing dumb, as if that would stop Jackson.
Jackson rested a hand on the back of Corey’s neck and massaged for a couple of seconds before grabbing his hand. “The one who broke your heart.”
“Oh, you mean the one who kept jerking me around and off… running hot and then shoving me away like I had the plague?” Kicking my heart like it was a soccer ball.
Jackson slumped back against the bench. “You never told me his name.”
Corey kissed Jackson’s hand and then set it on his thigh. He ran his fingers through his probably messy windblown hair. “You never asked, and what would be the point in attaching a name to my ridiculousness?”
Seeing far too much, Jackson stated, “Loving someone is never stupid.”
Pain sliced him at the memory of Keith refusing to acknowledge him at school. Hell, when Keith was surrounded by friends, he wouldn’t even make eye contact with Corey. All that passed between them meant nothing to him. The asshole even laughed at the gay jokes his idiot friends told. “Ha, right.”
“You never told me you fell in love with him.” Jackson’s ability to pinpoint Corey’s emotions and thoughts was usually beneficial in cutting through nonsense.
Denying his feelings hadn’t done any good, so Corey went with “Nor did you.”
Shaking his head vigorously, Jackson said, “Hardly. I fell in lust with him. Typical crush on a straight friend….”
Didn’t ring true, but Corey wasn’t in a place to push to know all the specifics.
Jackson grabbed Corey’s hand and kissed the palm. “Besides, then you came and got me, and a few days later there was us….”
“Still never enough….” How many times had Keith said they couldn’t ever be together for real but then made Corey come?
Jackson kissed Corey’s hand again. “You’re everything to me.”
But he wasn’t, on so many levels. And Keith Demonico was just another reminder of that.
4
Regrets & Can’t Forgets
Keith paced the length of his living room. “Oh, Ruffles my friend. I don’t know what to do.”
The parrot turned away from the picture of his mamma to peer at Keith. He cocked his head to the side and squawked, “Key-Key.”
“I forget how impossible it is to fix the past.”
Ruffles winged his way to Keith and landed on his arm. Then he walked to Keith’s shoulder. “Impossible? Impossible?”
“Don’t make it sound like a question. It is impossible. There’s no way to go back. Hell, he didn’t even let me apologize.” But Keith would do anything to have Corey look at him the way he used to, and Jax….
Corey and Jax were together. That made him feel both happy and left out all at once.
“Ruffles, I’m going to Club Zombie.” He announced it like Ruffles might disagree with his plans and ground him.
“Key-Key. Juicy, juicy.” Ruffles nuzzled under Keith’s neck.
“Yes, I’ll give you your juicy orange. Then I’m going to track down a pretty boy and his sexy man and make them listen to me. Besides, I owe Storm a drink after bailing last night.”
Ruffles fluttered his feathers and sang, “Pretty boy and sexy man.”
“Sure, you learn that.” Keith kept the frustration out of his voice, but he was annoyed. “Keith.”
Ruffles bobbed his head. “Pretty boy and sexy man.”
Keith tried not to chuckle, because that would only reinforce Ruffles’s retention of the words. He gave him the orange, added seeds and water to his cage and then got ready.
Thirty minutes later he tucked Ruffles into his cage. “Night, Ruffles.”
“Pretty boy. Sexy man. Key-Key.” Ruffles jumped into his cage.
Keith sighed. “Impossible.”
Keith chuckling as he passed the road sign that read Zombies Blow didn’t settle his nerves. Nor did pulling into the parking lot of Club Zombie for the second night in a row. Was he making yet another mistake? Even after twenty-four hours, he didn’t know what to think about seeing the two unforgettable men from his past.
Corey Anderson. After two decades, he had been standing behind that bar… with Jax Davis right there next to him, the two of them just seemingly waiting for Keith. Yeah, right. Crazy much?
He stood on the landing of the club and let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. A riot of scarves shimmered from the ceiling in shades of indigo, purple, and mauve, suggesting a harem tent.
A scan of the bar area showed neither Corey nor Jax.
Storm waved him over to the same table he’d sat at yesterday.
Pushing away his disappointment and returning the wave, Keith trekked past the black-lacquered bar that lined the football-field-sized room. He zigzagged around the low brass-spiraled coffee tables and the ornately scrolled bistro tables.
When he reached Storm, the guy pulled him into a backslapping hug. “Great to see you.”
“You too, man. Where are your boyfriends?”
“They’ll be here in a bit.” Storm gestured for him to take a seat.
Keith let himself sink into the high-back plush velvet chair. “Thanks for the raincheck invite. Sorry I hightailed it out of here last night. It was just—”
“Weird seeing Corey and Jackson? How long has it been?” Storm held up two fingers to the not-Corey-or-Jax bartender.
“Over twenty years.” God, he felt ancient.
Two bottles of beer arrived. Keith had overdone alcohol, drugs, and even cigarettes in his twenties. He’d made peace with addictive substances but still enjoyed a good microbrew now and then.
The bottle read Zombie Wishes, America’s #1 Pale Ale. Pale ale, ha. Someone thought they’d dump a whole bunch of hops in and see how bitter they can make that batch, then bet all their friends that they can’t handle the Hopitude.
He braced himself and took a sip. “Mmmm, not bad. Usually pales aren’t my thing. But I could get used to this. Zombie Wishes, great name.”
Storm’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t read the label. “Um, ah, yeah. One of the owners of Club Zombie probably ordered a few cases as a kind of a joke.”
“Club Zombie. Zombie Wishes. It works. Um, so Corey and Jax—I mean Jackson, they work in the bar?”
“Yup.” Storm shifted and glanced around.
“Are they off tonight?” Keith frowned at the thought of not seeing them, but he needed to make up for deserting Storm last night. Although if Corey and Jax were here—
“I’m not sure. But if they’re not here, probably.”
Keith bit back a sigh of frustration. “How long have they worked here?”
Picking at the label on the beer bottle, Storm eyed him. “A while. I’ve only known them for a few years.”
“Would you say you know them pretty well?” Keith had learned that patience wins the day… or in this case, gets the information.
Storm gave him a nod and shrug, then took another swig of his beer. “I guess. Tell me, what were Corey and Jackson like in high school?”
“Corey was an… angel. Maybe that is the wrong word, but he was incredibly sweet and was meant to soar and go places. Such a beautiful spirit.” Finding him as a bartender didn’t fit with Keith’s impression of Corey.
Storm choked on his swig, and when he got enough air in, he asked, “Corey? A sweet angel?”
Keith nodded. “Yes. Innocent, quiet, shy. And no matter what, he was above all the ignorance. Way too good for the homophobic tiny town we’re from.”
“Expectations are shit.”
Knowing bits and pieces Stor
m had shared at group, Keith felt too guilty not to clarify. “When I knew them, I was deep in the closet. It was during the HIV crisis. My mom was a nurse.”
“I know you mentioned some of that in the support group, but wow. That must have been a mind fuck.”
Keith exhaled hard, trying to dispel some of the crushing guilt so he could talk. “Yeah, and I was a real asshole to Corey.”
“In what way?” Storm studied him.
All the times he’d done nothing when people picked on Corey or said stupid things, every instance he hadn’t smiled at Corey, who always glanced his way, probably hoping for…. “In every way, but the worst was I pretended not to know him at school. I would never acknowledge him, and if I did, it was to laugh at some asshole’s stupid joke.”
Even though I knew him and his sweet lips better than anyone.
“Harsh. But hey, teenagers do dumb shit. Hell, grown-ass people do too. Shit, you can play witness I say and do dumb things all the time. It doesn’t mean I’m a bad person, and it doesn’t mean I can’t try to be better.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. I hope I get the chance to ask for Corey’s forgiveness.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what about Jackson? What’s the deal there?” Storm sipped his beer, but his gaze remained steady, pinning Keith like a boutonniere on a prom tux.
“Jax… Jackson and I got close our senior year.” Perry’s death had put him in a tailspin of what-ifs, but Jax had stabilized him. Keith still asked himself whether he’d missed something that could have saved Perry.
“And?”
“Jax, well, he ghosted me. Disappeared completely a couple weeks after graduation. I know he wasn’t getting along with his uncle, who he was living with, but….” Keith shut his mouth before he rambled on about how abandoned and hurt he’d felt. Losing Jax was what his therapist called his tipping point.
Losing Perry had devastated him, and then when Jax disappeared, it reinforced that he didn’t deserve anyone. His mom’s death seemed to confirm it. The loss of everyone he cared for shoved him down the path of wild parties and more drugs than men until he finally decided he deserved to redeem himself.
