by Cate Ashwood
Rush flipped them, pinning West against the solid door. He kissed him harder, groaning at the taste of West’s mouth, a potent reminder of what just took place. Rush wanted to possess West, to keep him there forever, make West his and never let him go, and West responded, his whole body coming to life as Rush kissed him.
Slowly the kiss gentled, and Rush took a half step back, reluctant to break the physical contact. West smiled at him, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. “We’ll get to the good stuff later. Now get out of here so I can get dressed. You’re distracting me.”
A few minutes later, West emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed but looking just as good as he did naked. For a moment Rush considered delaying their trip until the next day and marching him right back into the bedroom to bury himself deep in West’s body. If his plans weren’t already set with Johnny and his flight plan already filed, he would have done just that.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Almost,” West said.
Rush watched as he walked over to the fireplace and retrieved an urn he never noticed before.
“Okay, all ready.”
Suddenly Rosie’s words made sense. West was going to spread his grandfather’s ashes. He felt incredibly humbled that West would allow him to go on such a personal trip. Smiling encouragingly, he picked up West’s bag, as well as his own, and stepped out into the sunshine. West followed closely, locking the door behind them as they exited.
When everything was piled safely into the helicopter, they climbed in as they had a few hours earlier. This time the excitement and adrenaline subsided, and what was left in their place was a pleasant warmth Rush felt toward the man sitting next to him. He leaned over and slid his hand along West’s jaw, angling his face up to kiss him. It was slow and sweet and full of promise, and Rush was stunned at how easily West stole the breath right from his lungs. He pulled away slowly, reluctant to break the contact, and without a word turned his attention to the task at hand.
Just as he had a million times before, he went through all the preflight checks before starting up the engines. Paying close attention to the gauges, he got everything ready for takeoff. His hands flew automatically to the right switches and buttons, and before long they were airborne.
The ground and buildings beneath them became smaller as their altitude increased, and then Rush angled them in the right direction and they were off toward the ocean. The mood in the cockpit was one of quiet contemplation. Rush assumed West was thinking about his grandfather. So was Rush. He wondered how West was feeling and what memories he was carrying with him to the coast. And then he wondered when things changed for him.
Rush thought back to the first time he saw West. Clearly his feelings had transformed at some point, but he couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he moved from abject loathing to warm affection. He found himself grateful he was going to be there for West when he said his final good-bye to the man who had been the most important person in West’s life. He knew he should be feeling squirmy and trapped by his newfound revelation, but he found he wasn’t. Gratitude was what he felt more than anything. Rush was grateful he’d met West, grateful West weaseled his way into Rush’s life, grateful he pissed Rush off enough that he made the first move without thinking, and grateful West wasn’t scared off by Rush’s gruff demeanor.
An hour later, the ocean came into view. Neither man said a word, but the physical contact West kept with Rush said everything he needed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The trip to Eureka took a little over an hour from takeoff to landing, and West was glad they flew rather than drove. Seeing the landscape change from interior to coastal was beautiful. Rush handled the helicopter like he was born to fly—in a way, West supposed he was—and before long they were safely back on the ground.
When the blades stopping spinning, a man pulled open the side door for West to climb out.
“Hi there,” the man said. “I’m Johnny. Don’t believe anything this asshole has said about me.”
West grinned and shook Johnny’s hand. “I never believe anything he says,” West said. He didn’t mention that Rush had never spoken about Johnny, not wanting to insult him. Clearly they were old friends, the way Johnny ran to the other side and threw his arms around Rush, clapping him on the back.
“Good to see you, man,” Rush said, hugging Johnny back. “And thanks for letting us park here for the weekend.”
“Anytime, Rush. You know you’re always welcome. It’s nice to see you too. It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough,” Rush joked, and Johnny laughed.
“Do you guys have a place to stay tonight? You’re more than welcome to stay with me. Melinda is making enchiladas tonight, and they’re the best in the state.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll probably find somewhere to stay in town. You know if I sleep here, Melinda’s going to realize what a shitty deal she got with you, and I’m no home wrecker.”
“Right, probably for the best, anyway. I’ve heard you fucking, and you are not exactly a quiet one,” Johnny said, giving West the once-over. “And he doesn’t look like he would be either.”
West couldn’t help the blush that crept into his cheeks. Normally he didn’t much care what people assumed about him, but Johnny’s open appraisal and graphic assumptions had him feeling a little embarrassed. It didn’t help that he was right. His mind wandered to thoughts of where Johnny heard Rush having sex. His skin felt itchy with the thought of Rush having sex with someone else. Logically, he knew it had happened. Judging from the things Rush knew how to do, it had happened a lot. But West didn’t want to think about it. He gave himself a mental shake and forced his concentration back onto the conversation Rush and Johnny were having.
“Gee, thanks,” Rush said rolling his eyes. “Any recommendations for good places to stay in the area?”
“There’s all the usual places… Best Western, Ramada, Motel 6, or you could do one of the better places. The Gingerbread Inn is supposed to be nice. Expensive but nice. I’ve never stayed there obviously, but it has a reputation.”
“Great. Maybe we’ll look into that. One last thing… could I bribe you for a ride into town? I’ll buy you a beer at the first bar we find.”
Johnny shook his head. “No thanks, but tell you what, take my car. You can use it for the weekend.”
“We don’t want to put you out,” Rush said.
“Since when?” Johnny countered teasingly. “Really, though, I don’t mind. We’ve got Melinda’s, and I’m likely not going anywhere this weekend. I’m working on a restoration for a client that’s taking more time than it should. I think I’m getting rusty in my old age.”
West smiled. Johnny couldn’t have been older than thirty.
“I owe you one.”
“You owe me two, but you can repay me by visiting more often than once every four years.”
“Deal,” Rush agreed.
“Good. Here’s the keys. If you crash her, you owe me a new one.”
“No problem. And if anything changes, you have my number. Give me a call.”
“I will.”
“Thanks again, Johnny,” Rush said.
“Have fun, boys!”
“What do you feel like doing?” Rush asked once they found their way onto the road that led into town. Johnny’s Chevelle purred as they drove. West had never much been into muscle cars, but now that he was sitting in one, there was something to be said for American-made machines. It felt different from his Ferrari, but it was like comparing apples to asteroids—not even in the same atmosphere—but both were good.
“I’m good with anything, really.”
“We could take a drive around, or head to the hotel, or grab something to eat? Whatever you’d like to do. Do you want to…?” Rush’s words trailed off, but West got the meaning. He was asking about his grandfather.
West glanced at his watch. It was midafternoon. There was still lots of daylight left, and going down
to the beach would be fine, but West was hesitant. He knew saying good-bye would be difficult, and he knew putting it off one more day wasn’t going to make it any easier. He’d never been one to avoid doing the things he didn’t want to do, but this was different. This was his grandfather.
“Maybe we could drive around for a little?”
“Sure, we can definitely do that,” Rush said. “Do you want to Google and see if there’s anything exciting to do while we’re here?”
West took out his phone and brought up his search app. He typed Eureka into the field, and his screen was filled a moment later with a list of attractions in the area. “There’s the redwoods, a couple of gardens, some museums, beaches, and ooh, Bounce-A-Palooza!”
Rush laughed. “Any of those sound intriguing to you?”
West clicked on a couple of the links. Nothing really caught his attention until he saw the photos of Stagecoach Cove. Looking at the images, he knew his grandfather would have loved it. The water was serene, and the secluded spot was beyond picturesque. It was the perfect place. The reluctance he felt moments before slipped away, and he was left with a firm resolve.
“Stagecoach Cove, a little north of here,” West said.
“You got it. Lead on, copilot.”
West punched the address into the GPS app on his phone and gave Rush the directions.
It was easy to find, and the scenery on the way there was gorgeous. The drive only took about twenty minutes, and then they were there. Rush found a place to park and turned off the car. They sat in silence for a few moments, and West tried to gather his thoughts. He knew what he had to do, and letting go was difficult, but his grandfather deserved this.
“I think we have to take the trail down to the beach,” West said.
“No one said anything about hiking.”
West could tell Rush was only teasing. He took West’s free hand when they were out of the car, West cradling his grandfather’s urn close to his body.
“Ready?” Rush asked.
West knew he was talking about more than his readiness to hike to the beach.
“No, but let’s go.”
Rush squeezed his hand and led him toward the trailhead. It dipped into the forest and along the bluffs. Wildflowers were beginning to bloom, spring transforming into the early days of summer. There were picnic tables and benches along the bluff, but they were deserted. They hadn’t seen anyone else so far, but then they hadn’t seen any cars in the parking area either. West preferred it that way. The only person he wanted there was Rush.
As they wound their way down to the sand, Rush never once let go of West’s hand. He was grateful for it. His feet felt as unsteady as his emotions at that moment. Finally they came to the base of the trail where it opened to the beach. The cove was more beautiful than in the photos. It felt like a secret place only they knew existed. The sand was untouched, the tide having receded recently, and they couldn’t hear anything except the sounds of the waves gently ebbing and flowing, the sea birds above them, and the wind catching the leaves of the alder trees behind them.
It was peaceful. Perfect.
Rush didn’t say anything, didn’t hurry West along. He simply stood there in silent support, waiting for West to decide what to do. In the end, it was simple. West took off his socks and shoes, then rolled up the legs of his pants and walked toward the water.
The cold stung his skin as the water lapped at his toes, but he kept walking without breaking pace. Rush wasn’t far behind, staying close but with enough distance between them West felt like he had his privacy. Holding the urn in shaking hands, he twisted the lid and lifted it, exposing the ashes to the sea air. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he thought about how happy his grandfather would be to be reunited with the ocean. It had been far too long.
He gave a silent prayer, ending with a wordless apology that he had to wait five years for this before he tipped the urn and scattered the ashes into the surf. He watched as the dull gray cinders mixed with the water, swirling and disappearing into the glittering waves. When the last of the remnants disappeared, he turned, and there was Rush, waiting for him, his arms held out so West could step into them.
He moved forward and buried his face against Rush’s shoulder, gripping him as tightly as he could. He wanted to stay that way forever. Rush kissed the top of his head and stroked his back, whispering against his hair as West finally let go and wept.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rush couldn’t feel his legs from the knee down, but he wouldn’t have moved for the world. West shook in his arms as sobs tore through him. Rush wished he could say this was the first time he had comforted a crying man, but he was all too familiar with the grief that accompanied death. This felt the same and different. The grief was the same—the loss of someone you care deeply about is poignant for anyone—but Rush’s reaction to it felt foreign. This went beyond simple comfort. He stood there, and in that moment he realized he’d fallen in love with the man in his arms.
Rush didn’t know when it happened or how, and he didn’t much care. All he knew was West was hurting, and every instinct inside of him screamed out to protect and soothe, so he held West as tightly as he dared and let him take what he needed.
The waves began to rise with the tide, the water getting deeper as the sun moved closer to the horizon. Rush wasn’t certain how long they were there. It felt like hours, but if that was where West needed to be, that’s where they would stay. West looked up at him, his eyes red and swollen, still brimming with tears. He’d never seen someone look so vulnerable and so open, and so he did the only thing he could think to do.
He kissed him.
West let out a tiny sigh and let Rush take his weight as he leaned into him. The kiss was slow and sweet. There was no heat at all, but Rush could feel everything change. West pulled away and gave Rush a halfhearted smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Rush didn’t say anything, just gently pressed his lips against West’s once more before turning them slowly around and leading him out of the water. The sun had almost set, and he didn’t want to rush West, but finding their way back to the car in the dark would prove challenging.
Safely back in the car, West exhaled and sank back against the seat.
“Are you okay?” Rush asked. His voice sounded too loud, even to his own ears.
“Yeah, I think so,” West said. “Sorry for losing it back there.”
“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”
West nodded, not arguing the point, and for that Rush was grateful. He knew there was strength in a man who could face his emotions rather than burying them out of some misplaced sense of shame.
“Let’s go.”
“Do you want to go home? Or do you still want to stay for the weekend?” Rush asked. He would have understood if West wanted to hole up in his house for a few days.
“No, let’s have a nice weekend.”
“You got it.” Rush started up the car and pulled back out from the narrow shoulder onto the road. Doing a three-point turn, he drove them back in the direction they’d come from. West punched in the name of the hotel Johnny suggested and found the website for the Gingerbread Inn.
“Got it. It’s really highly rated. I don’t see any photos of the rooms, but the outside is beautiful. It looks like a Victorian mansion,” West said.
“If it has hot water and comfortable beds, it’s good enough for me,” Rush said.
“Beds?”
“Bed.”
“Better.”
The hotel was easy to find. Perched on a hill, overlooking the water, the mansion was more beautiful than the photos on the website were. Light blue in color with bright white trim, it looked postcard perfect.
Rush parked the car, and West helped him grab their bags from the trunk. He already felt lighter, his promise to his grandfather fulfilled. They walked up to the front entrance, a large stained-glass door that opened into the ornately detailed porch that ran the
length of the massive house. Rush opened the door and held it as West walked through.
The lobby of the hotel was elaborately appointed, with carved scrollwork in all the wood and gold and crystal everywhere. A woman stood behind the counter, her suit immaculately pressed, and her gray hair pulled into a severe bun on the back of her head.
“How may I help you two gentlemen?” she asked.
“We’d like to book a room if you have any available for tonight,” West said, using his most businesslike voice. She seemed like the type of woman who appreciated formality.
“Of course. And will that be two rooms?”
“Just one.”
“I see,” she replied, her mouth tightening at the edges. “Let me have a look at our reservations.”
For a moment, West thought she was going to tell him they were all booked up for the night, but to his surprise, she pointed at her book and smiled. “We do have a couple of rooms available, gentlemen. You’re in luck. I’ll put you in our best one,” she said.
“We’ll take it.”
“Wonderful. I’ll need a credit card and some identification, and we’ll get you registered.”
West pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and slid the cards across the counter. She recorded all his information before handing them back and turning to grab a set of keys out of the wooden cupboard behind her.
“If you’d like to follow me, I would be happy to show you to your room,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk.
Rush and West followed her through the lobby and up a set of curved stairs that led to the second floor. In front of them stretched a long hallway, clad in floral carpeting and striped wallpaper. She chattered at them about the different services available—bird-watching tours departing daily, high tea in the gardens, and evening games of canasta in the lounge. Both men nodded politely as she spoke.
