Long Haul- The Complete Series Bundle

by Harper Logan

  “We could do better,” Adrian said. “I always pictured having a house like the one I grew up in. A tire swing outside, big backyard. Dogs.”

  “Hey, now. Remember, I was living in a one bedroom place. This loft is pretty damn luxurious. Hey, what is this?” He turned around holding the photo of the two of them from Iraq. It’d been stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

  “Oh, shit,” Adrian said. “Yeah, I kinda took that from your book. Figured you wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You motherfucker,” Chandler laughed. “I was practically tearing up the place looking for it.”

  “Sorry.”

  Chandler came back over and kissed him. “I forgive you.”

  “Wait, let’s just take a step back for a second. You said, start a family?”

  “Well. Raise April, at least.” Chandler stood up from the couch and stuffed a hand into his jeans pocket. “Too early to think about stuff like that?”

  “Just trying to taking it all in, is all,” Adrian said, feeling slightly hazy again.

  “Good. Because I want you to marry me.” He took his hand out from his pocket, dropped to one knee, and presented a naked gold band in the palm of his hand. “What do you say, Adrian? Will you marry me?”

  Adrian’s mouth dropped into his lap. “Uh—” he gasped, struggling to form anything coherent. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

  Then he started to cry. It shocked him how sudden it was, and how little control he had over it. The tears just came, and once they started, they wouldn’t stop. It felt like a vice had unscrewed from his heart, and the relief was too much for him to hold in. He hugged Chandler, sobbing into his shoulder, and from the wetness he felt against his neck he knew that Chandler was crying too.

  It was the release of five years. Five years of trying to withstand the force of a love that was more powerful than anything he’d ever witnessed or experienced in his entire life. And now, finally, they were together.

  Epilogue

  Adrian stood out on the back porch, a bottle of Budweiser in hand. They’d purchased the house a month after the wedding, which had been a small and private ceremony attended only by Mom and April. It was a quaint, three-bedroom house, not considered big by any means but more than enough for what they needed. The third bedroom was a guest room where Mom came to stay when April needed babysitting, and also doubled as a growing library with all of April’s favorite books. The most important thing was that they’d chosen a neighborhood with one of the best school districts in the state. It’d been difficult to afford, but with Chandler’s partnership in the garage they were able to expand business far beyond what they’d hoped.

  April had been pushed a grade ahead in school, and her teachers were even considering putting her forward even one more grade. She’d started learning Chinese, writing her own short stories, and also had taken an interest in how cars worked. Her intuition with how everything operated and fit together was nearly as prodigious as her talent with language.

  The back door opened, and Chandler came out, cell phone in hand. Ever since moving to Rosebridge, he’d been making an effort to get up to date with technology, and it was always entertaining for Adrian to watch him fumble around with his smartphone.

  “Just spoke with Lexie,” Chandler said. “She’s made the moving arrangements and will be arriving in town three days from now. She said she’s ready to start work the day she gets here.”

  Adrian put his arm around his husband’s waist. “It’ll be great to finally have her here. Lord knows we need the help with the office work.”

  He sipped on his beer, smiling as he watched Mom twist April around on the backyard tire swing. She shrieked as she spun, and then went tumbling onto the grass with dizzy laughter.

  “You should spin too, Papa,” April called.

  “Not me,” he said. “Papa’s just fine watching you.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Sure, what the hell. C’mon, Adrian.”

  Chandler took Adrian’s hand and dragged him towards the tire swing.

  “Oh, no, no,” Adrian protested. “No spinning for me.”

  “Please, Papa? Please?”

  Chandler grinned and pushed him by the shoulders. “C’mon, Papa. Join your daughter up on that swing, and I’ll spin you both.”

  “Fine,” he said, handing his beer off to Mom. “If I hurl, it’ll be your fault.”

  April stuck out her tongue. “Eww.”

  Adrian slid into the tire swing, and Chandler lifted April up so she was sitting in his lap.

  “Hold on tight, honey,” Chandler told her, and then started to twist the rope up.

  “No, that’s enough, Chandler!” Adrian shouted, laughing. April shrieked and giggled, and then Chandler let go of the tire, sending them whirling around. He shouted and as they spun, April laughed and laughed, her grey eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

  Adrian tilted his head back, laughing and shouting, and saw the faces of his husband, his mother and his little girl as the world spun around him.

  He was with the people he loved most, and there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

  They were home.

  Long Shot (Book 2)

  1

  Adrian hoisted April up by her armpits so that she could reach the top of the Christmas tree, while Chandler stood to the side and watched, his hands on his hips. April stretched out with her little arms and carefully placed the shimmering golden star ornament at the very top, and Adrian lowered her back to the ground. The two of them stepped back, joining Chandler to inspect their handiwork. The tree, draped in tinsel and ornaments, sparkled with twinkling lights, and beneath it was a pile of colorfully wrapped presents. It was their first Christmas spent together as a family since Chandler had packed his bags and moved himself and his daughter out from Arkansas to New Hampshire to be with Adrian nearly a year ago.

  The three of them lived in a quaint, three-bedroom house that they’d purchased a month after their marriage. Even after a year living there, the place was sparsely decorated. There were some framed photos; most were of April and the three of them together, but a few were of Adrian and Chandler back from their time in the army when they first met and fell in love. Both of them were simple, no frills men who didn’t care so much about interior decorating. In fact, the auto shop they ran together probably had more decoration than the house did. It was where they spent most of their time, after all.

  “How’s that look, honey?” Adrian asked April.

  “I think we did a real good job, Papa,” the six year old said, and then started to bounce around with her hands held high in the air as she sang, “Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree! I love our special Christmas tree.” She dove to her knees and slid herself along the hardwood floor toward the presents to take yet another inventory of them. “To April, Love Daddy,” she said, reading the tag on one of the boxes. She looked up and grinned at Chandler, who smiled back. “To April, Love Papa. And this big one’s from Grandma. Where are your presents, Papa and Daddy? These are all for me.”

  Adrian exchanged a look with his husband. The truth was that he hadn’t gotten anything for Chandler yet, even though Christmas was only a few weeks away. Chandler had to be the hardest man on earth to buy a gift for. He was the kind of man who would be fine with anything, who’d give a slight smile, a nod, and a thank you to any present he got—but Adrian didn’t want to settle for a “fine with anything” type of present. He wanted to give Chandler something really special.

  “All I need for Christmas is your Papa,” Chandler said, slinging his arm around Adrian’s shoulder.

  “Aww,” April cooed. “That’s so cute.”

  They put April to bed, and the three of them read a bedtime story, switching off reading each chapter out loud. As Adrian was reading his part, he watched April’s eyelid start to droop. He smiled. She was doing everything she could to stay awake, but her eyes would just not stay open. Finally, she fell asleep. He closed the book and slip
ped it back onto her book shelf, and the two of them quietly slipped out of the room and closed the door.

  Adrian went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Budweiser, and handed one to Chandler as they settled down on the couch in front of the tree, which lit the otherwise dark room with its pale, twinkling lights.

  “C’mon, Chandler,” Adrian said. “Throw me a fuckin’ bone here. I wanna give you something special. You gotta have something you want.”

  “Yeah, there is something special I want.” Chandler grinned, setting his beer onto the stacked toolbox they used as a side table. Adrian took a swig of his and nearly dropped it in surprise as Chandler swung his arm around his shoulder and drew him in for a kiss. Adrian melted into him as Chandler moved on top of him, pressing him into the cushions. He slipped a hand around the back of Chandler’s neck and pulled him in tighter, and their tongues made pleasant introductions to each other. As they kissed, Chandler plucked the beer bottle from Adrian’s hand and set it down onto the toolbox.

  Adrian’s jeans grew tighter with excitement as he felt his husband’s calloused fingers slip under his t-shirt and across his abs. He drew in a breath to give Chandler some space to push them down past his belt line. Down, down, down… Oh, fuck. He’d never get tired of feeling that tight grip around his tool.

  “When I said throw me a bone, this isn’t exactly what I was talking about,” Adrian murmured as Chandler handled him beneath his jeans.

  “Yeah, well, you should’ve been more specific,” Chandler said, nipping his earlobe. He moved his kisses down the side of his neck to his collarbone, and with his free hand, tugged Adrian’s shirt up and over his arms. Adrian attacked the buttons of Chandler’s flannel button up and yanked the shirt open, revealing his gorgeousness. Adrian was still in awe of the fact that he and Chandler were together, that this perfect man was really his husband now.

  Just over a year ago, it would’ve seemed like an impossibility.

  He and Chandler first met overseas on deployment in Iraq, and the two of them shared a romance they kept secret from the world. When their tour was over, they both decided it would be for the best to forget what they had, and to leave their love overseas. They went their separate ways. Chandler moved back to the one place he’d been trying to escape from—his middle of nowhere hometown in Arkansas, and Adrian, chased by the memory of the man he couldn’t so easily forget, took to the open road as a long-haul trucker. It was that job that, five years after their split, would take him back into his man’s arms.

  And now they were married.

  Even now, the two of them still sometimes struggled with the fact that they didn't have to hide their love, and at times they found themselves concealing it by habit. They’d both never been with other men before, and Chandler denied that he was even gay. He would say, “You can set up a hundred guys in front of me and I ain’t gonna find a single one of them attractive. Adrian’s just a special case.”

  Adrian felt the same. He’d never met anyone—man or woman—who got him going the way Chandler did.

  “Oh, fuck,” Adrian whispered, watching as Chandler opened his pants and pulled his cock free from his underwear. Then Chandler slowly moved down, his shoulders undulating like a slinking cat’s, and sank down so that Adrian’s cock stood up tall in front of his face. Adrian’s heart raced, and his chest rose and fell with excited breaths.

  He watched as Chandler wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, holding it firmly upright. Chandler kissed the tip, and then began to caress it with his face, lovingly rubbing it against his cheeks and lips, taking in long, hungry breaths of him. The tingling prickle of Chandler’s stubble sent shivers through Adrian’s body, and he bit the back of his hand to suppress a moan. He fucking loved it when Chandler did that to him.

  “Ohh…”

  It was like torture, it felt so good.

  And then, finally, Chandler took him into his mouth. Adrian grabbed a fistful of cushion, his toes curling as Chandler worked him. He was a goddamn professional at handling his cock. Chandler knew every spot to hit and how to hit it just right, and Adrian already felt himself being thrown to the climax.

  “Oh god,” he moaned, trying to stay as quiet as he could. He pushed his fingers through Chandler’s hair. “Throw me that fucking bone already or I’m gonna fucking come right now.”

  “No you fuckin’ don’t,” Chandler growled, backing off. “Get on up and turn your ass around.”

  Adrian did as he was told. He kicked off his underwear and jeans, turned around onto his knees, and then rested his forearms onto the arm of the couch, bending over for Chandler.

  “God, I’ll never get tired of that view,” Chandler said. “Hold that. Don’t move.”

  Adrian watched Chandler walk off into the dark hallway. A light flicked on in the bathroom, sending a rectangle of light across the hardwood floor, and then turned off again. A moment later, Chandler emerged, unbuckling his jeans as he walked. He held a small bottle of lube in his hand.

  “Should we move this to the bedroom?” Adrian asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Chandler said. “April’s knocked out. I peeked. Anyway, haven’t you always wanted to fuck in front of a Christmas tree?”

  “We have already,” Adrian said, smiling slyly.

  “Like hell, we have.”

  “We have! Iraq. At FOB Lion. Remember, we all decorated that palm tree? When we had the watch, you and I—”

  “That don’t count.” Chandler grinned. He pulled down his jeans in one swift motion, and when he stood back up straight, so did his cock. He came back to the couch, his muscular body rimmed in the soft light of the tree behind him. “I’m talking about our tree.” He leaned forward, letting his hands glide across Adrian’s back. “Now c’mon and give me my present.”

  Adrian looked back and drew him into a kiss before presenting himself for Chandler. He shivered as he felt the cool spread of gel across his opening, and then a few seconds later, the warm press of Chandler’s cock. He pushed his face into the cushioned arm of the sofa to muffle a strained cry as he pounded his fist against it. Chandler was big, and even now Adrian wasn’t any more used to that first push in. But that was fine. It was a damn good hurt, and always had been.

  They fucked hard, doing their best to keep as quiet as possible. The dull, rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh reverberated around the room like muted applause, accented by their stifled breaths. Adrian bit the cushion, not quite able stop a groan as he reached climax. He knew Chandler was there too. The man made no sound to signal his orgasm, but Adrian felt his grip tighten on his ass cheek as he made several final hard and deep thrusts.

  After finishing, the two of them snuggled up under a blanket on the couch in nothing but their underwear. Adrian leaned over to retrieve their beer from the toolbox side table. Next to the bottles sat a photo album, and Adrian picked up all three. He passed one bottle back to Chandler and patted the cover of the album. It was their little work in progress, something they’d assembled when they’d first gotten married and continued to add to.

  “Wanna go through this thing?” Adrian asked.

  Chandler smiled and drew his arm around Adrian’s shoulder. “You feelin’ sentimental?”

  “Goddamn right. It’s been a while since we’ve looked at this thing, let alone added to it.”

  Adrian opened the album, which Chandler had made himself out of an old leather jacket and scrap wood they’d had lying around the shop. The first couple pages were old family photos, mostly of Adrian and his parents and few of Chandler. Chandler hadn’t kept many photos of his folks or his childhood—they just represented sore memories. There was a faded elementary school yearbook photo of Chandler, a shot of a seven-year-old him sitting on a bicycle in a torn Ninja Turtles tank top, and one of him with his arms wrapped around a shaggy dog.

  “Bandit,” Chandler said, touching the photo. “You never had a dog when you were a kid, huh?”

  “Nope. Always wanted one, but Dad was allergic.�
��

  Adrian turned the page. There was a photo of him, probably around nine years old, up on Dad’s shoulders, who was standing proudly next to his 1972 basin street blue Plymouth Duster. Adrian still remembered that car like it was yesterday—the low roar of its 240 horsepower V8 engine. The way the seat vibrated as Dad floored the accelerator. The smell of leather and gasoline. But the best memories were of riding in the car with Dad and helping him work on it, passing tools to him as he tinkered under the hood and under its belly. Dad had been forced to sell the car when the family had been going through rough financial times. Adrian had been in his final year in elementary school, and he remembered how he’d held Dad’s hand and cried as he watched the car being loaded onto a flatbed tow truck and driven away.

  Of course, Dad couldn’t go for long without a car to work on. After things picked up a few years later, he bought a 1966 Ford F100 pickup truck, and throughout Adrian’s years in high school the two of them worked on restoring it. The truck had stayed with Adrian until six months ago, when a drunk driver had side swiped him as he was driving home from the grocery store. Miraculously, Adrian had only minor injuries, but the truck was totaled beyond repair. Seeing its mangled body being towed away had brought back all the painful memories of when Dad had passed away from a sudden heart attack. That truck had been Adrian’s last connection to him, and losing it had hit him hard.