by Lucy Eden
He sighed, watching the truck bounce up the dirt road before it came to a skidding stop in front of the greenhouse. “Fucker,” Grant muttered under his breath and raised a hand in a terse wave. Remi didn’t wave back, just threw open the truck door and leapt from it with a scowl on his face.
He didn’t want to be here. Couldn’t be making it more clear that he didn’t want to be here, but Grant ignored it and ambled forward, working to keep his posture loose. They’d been friends once, or at least sort of--- Grant found it hard to remember with the way that life in Plenty was tangled together until the threads of separate lives tangled and knotted, creating a mess you couldn’t even begin to sort. He swallowed hard and took in the sight of Remi’s familiar body, the man’s broad shoulders and muscled arms drawing his attention for a beat before he forced his eyes back to his face.
He’d give anything for their once upon a time sort of friendship, the kind born of playing on the same sports teams, sitting in the same church pews and running around the same streets. Anything was better than what they had now which was open hostility. It’d been that way ever since Grant had announced he was leaving. It should have been an exciting night; they’d been out for Grant’s 22nd birthday and it had been somewhere between the third shot of tequila and the beer he’d just been handed, that he realized what he had to do.
He had to leave town otherwise this would be all he knew. It wouldn’t be a bad life. Just not the one he craved. It would be the one he fell into, not created and that would not stand. He’d already applied to UGA, received the acceptance letter and had just been sitting on the news, but there in the dim pool hall with his friends Grant had shared the good news with them all. Everyone had been stunned into silence but they’d recovered quick enough with congratulations and shouts for another round for “the college boy!”
All of them except for Remi.
He hadn’t missed the dark look that had passed over his face, or the way his normally warm gray gaze had gone hard all over in front of Grant’s very eyes. It was like looking at an enemy, or worse a stranger. He’d tried to head it off, catch up with the other man when they’d both stepped out for some air---Remi to smoke and Grant, to well, talk because the two of them had struck up something that year. Something Grant had always felt inside but never really acted on, but it had felt so good and natural with Remi that he hadn’t questioned it. Not when they’d first kissed, on a night much like this, hands and mouths exploring the other tentatively in the dark and then again with more confidence the longer the minutes stretched on.
The men hadn’t labeled what they had. It was easy that way. The days and night shared between them in town. A few of their friends knew and no one was really surprised by it, which made Grant wonder what they’d known before even he had, though he felt like it would only ever be like this with Remi. It had only taken a handful of years away from home to know he’d been right.
No one had set him on fire like Remi. And no one had ever frozen him out in quite the same way either. Both capable of stopping his heart and breath so quickly he’d wondered if it had ever happened.
And God, they had been something, hadn’t they? His skin flushed remembering how Remi’s fingers had felt in his hair. The gasp of the other man as he thrust into Grant, their bodies close until muscle and skin were flush to the other in a way that had him forgetting where he began and Remi ended. It was nothing but a tangle of limbs with Remi’s cock in him, the way he stared at Grant, his gray eyes all fire and need until it was the only thing Grant could focus on. Remi had been his world in those moments, minutes marked by the sting of Remi pulling on his hair until his scalp ached, seconds kept by the slap of skin on skin, breaths and heartbeats in unison until he couldn’t remember if it had been an hour or an eternity since Remi had taken him, claimed his body as his own until the pair of them spiraled up and over the edge of pleasure they had been building together.
He’d loved every second of it. Could still hear Remi’s gasp and shout when he orgasmed, body curling in close to Grant’s as he did. He’d never been far behind, the sight of his lover finding release enough to urge Grant to his own end.
They’d been like that right until the night he’d announced his decision to leave town.
Remi hadn’t wanted to talk that night. He hadn’t wanted to talk any other night either leading up to when Grant had left for school. And when he’d come home Remi had only deigned to speak to him to let him know just how unwelcome Grant was in Plenty.
His skin burned at the memory of Remi’s hands on him, the phantom pang once again reminding Grant that he wished to hell he’d told Remi first and not blurted it out as he had. But things were always easier in hindsight, weren’t they?
After that night Remi hadn’t wanted a damn thing to do with him. He suspected today wouldn’t be much different but Grant fixed an easy smile on his face as he rounded the truck and made his way to the back where Remi was already climbing into the bed of the truck, eyes focused on the goods Grant had ordered.
“Afternoon,” Grant offered, coming to stand at the end of the truck bed. Remi nodded, and offered a grunt in greeting.
“Ah, looks like it’ll rain,” he went on, clearing his throat when Remi turned towards him with a sack of fertilizer over one shoulder. The other man’s eyes lifted to the sky for a second before he shrugged and nodded.
“Suppose so.” Remi tossed the bag onto the ground beside Grant and moved to grab another. “Got your fertilizer. Tower lights too. Be done in a few if you tell me where to put it.”
Grant swallowed at the words. It was Remi’s way of telling him to give him space, to not talk to him, and Grant sighed playing along for the sake of keeping the peace.
“Sure thing. You can bring it in back. Near the orchids.”
“Sounds good.” Remi nodded, his shoulder-length brown hair falling forward into his face when he bent to grab another bag. He tossed that onto the ground beside the first and continued about his work. Even if the other man didn’t want to talk, he hadn’t told him to leave and so Grant watched him work in relative peace, the way he usually did when Remi came round.
The air around them was hot and humid sticking to their skin and if it hadn’t been from the breeze the impending storm was kicking up, it might have been unpleasant, but it wasn’t---certainly wasn’t with the view Grant was afforded by a working Remi, shirt sleeves rolled up and hair free from the knot the man usually wore it in. Remi’s features were sharp and severe, his countenance stern but that wasn’t surprising, not when it came to Grant or anything to do with him. Not as far as Remi was concerned.
Grant sighed and cleared his throat cautioning another glance at the silent man as he worked. Another bag of fertilizer landed beside him and he stepped back and said, “it’s hot out yet. Want a water?” His question was completely innocuous, innocent at best, it was humid and hot, the air holding the heavy feeling that told of an upcoming summer storm. From the feel of it, this one was going to be more than a passing shower. He glanced up at the sky and pretended to be interested in anything else but Remi.
When in doubt, and confronted with a man that made your heart stop, focus on...the weather? He would have scoffed at himself if it wasn’t the only thing he could speak on intelligibly. He much suspected this was why the weather was a favored topic of small talk in the South.
God, he’d give anything to run his hands through that hair again. He knew it was softer than it looked, just like the man it belonged to. He glanced at Remi when he wasn’t even given the normal grunt in response. He’d stopped working and was looking at Grant with a look he couldn’t quite figure out. Not annoyed or angry, but curious? Except that it was gone in a flash and once more the familiar hard look slipped over Remi’s face like a mask.
He pursed his lips. “M’fine.”
“I know but--”
“Don’t need nothing from you. Never have. Never will. Let me work, dammit.”
Grant held up his hands and was una
ble to stop the startled laugh that puffed free from his lips. “Well, all right then,” he said and shook his head taking a step back and then another, “was tryin’ to be friendly is all.”
“Should know by now I don’t want it.”
“See that now. Make no mistake.” Grant dropped his hands and turned on his heel. He didn’t need this. If Remi was bent on holding a grudge from near back seven years then the man was welcome to it. He had a business to run, and if peace wasn’t on the table then it would just have to be one of those things in life.
Worse things had happened to better people. Not having Remi Wilson would be marked as one of the lesser things to happen in history. Even in a place like Plenty. But even as he thought it Grant bit his lip because from the cold and hollow feel their exchange had left him with, he wasn’t so sure.
The work passed quickly enough, or at least he thought so. Remi was silent as ever as he unloaded the new goods, taking them where they were to go, and Grant did his best to avoid him. If Remi was coming he was going or busying himself in the endless rows of greenery that needed tending to. It should have been relatively simple to give him space but even so the two of them kept meeting eyes, looking up at the wrong times or nearly brushing shoulders as Grant exited to check on the hedges he’d just had delivered, but not had the time to bring in.
They were like two magnets. It was agony.
Always had been.
More so when Remi fixed him with the smoldering gray gaze that Grant knew intimately, though he much preferred when it was directed at him in a more kindly manner. He blew out a deep sigh, watching Remi from the corner of his eye, where he was finishing up the last of his order. The other man was scribbling out an invoice, minutes from leaving, and though he knew he should be happy that the tense time would be over when Remi left, Grant was more morose than anything.
They’d been something; he didn’t know what to call it, but it had been something better than now.
“Remi...hey, listen,” Grant began putting down the shears he held and starting forward. “I don’t know how things got to where they are now but, ah, I just wanted to say that I’m real sorry.”
Remi’s hands stopped where they were, the pen no longer moving. “What?” he asked, his voice low and hardly carrying over the now constant rumbling of thunder and moan of the wind that was picking up in earnest.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Remi looked up at him, eyes stony and cold. He tucked the clipboard close to his body with a snap and barked out a laugh. “Why am I not surprised you’re apologizin’ now.”
Grant blinked in surprise and rocked back on his heels. “What are you--”
“You would be the one to bring it up, even if you were fine leavin’ it.”
“Woah, woah,” he held up his hands and came forward. “Remi, look, I want to talk to you about that. I miss--”
“Here’s your damn invoice. Be back in two weeks with whatever you need.” Remi ripped the invoice free and held it out with a jerk of his hand. It was like a shield between them, or maybe a knife? Grant figured it was meant to be a knife, not a shield, not with the way it was stabbing him and reminding him of the distance between the two of them now. His eyes narrowed, his displeasure showing plainly on his face.
“You know what?” Grant said, voice low. He could feel the thunder now, it was rumbling deep in the earth, the vibrations humming through the dirt and up his feet. He locked eyes with Remi and took another step closer. “I’m sick and tired of this bullshit, Remi. Grow up.”
Remi jerked back as if he had been slapped and drew himself up to his full height; an impressive sight, as the man was well over 6’3. He crossed his arms, biceps straining the material of his work shirt as he did so. Grant clenched his fist and focused on the thunder’s presence. Now was not the time to get distracted by a well placed flex.
“Grow up?” Remi cocked his head to the side and scoffed, gray eyes narrowing. “You’re the one forcin’ me to keep coming up to this damn place week after week, month after month. Drive me half crazy with it!”
“Ah, hell, Remi. No one’s ever made you do a damn thing you didn’t have a mind to do and you know it.”
“Shut up, Grant. Pay the damn invoice and--”
“And what? You’ll be back in two weeks?” Grant crossed his arm and lowered his chin challenging the other man with a pointed glare.
Remi’s mouth snapped shut, his jaw clenched. Grant could tell from the way his lips pursed that the other man’s teeth were probably grinding painfully against each other. Good, he thought, he was glad for the discomfort Remi was in, he hoped the next time the man clenched his damn jaw that his teeth cracked and fell out of his head. He was tired of being the only one to try and fix what had happened. He’d tried to talk to Remi all those years ago, had tried it again the first time he’d seen his familiar face. It had been impossible not to---the sight of him had brought back all the times they’d shared, the kisses, hungry hands and the feel of skin on skin that had left him feeling drunk when not a drop had passed his lips.
Grant hadn’t wanted liquor. He’d wanted Remi, all of him, morning, day and night, and for a time he’d had him. It hadn’t been fair that his play at a bigger future had cost him what they’d found in the other, what he hadn’t been close to finding in anyone else since.
So now, as they stood off against the other, Grant was glad Remi was uncomfortable. That his jaw was probably aching. That there was nothing left for them to say. He’d said his piece, shut the other man up and that was enough for him, so he jabbed a thumb at the door behind Remi and said, “See yourself out. I’ll be along. Storm’s coming.”
Remi said nothing for a second and that moment stretched into two before he sighed the breath coming out of him in a long sigh. He slapped the invoice onto the work table next to him and shook his head. “Pay up by Monday.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the greenhouse.
“Mississippi one….” Grant crossed his arms and sighed before uttering, “Mississippi two…” He wasn’t in much of a mood for running into the other man when he’d just let loose on him. “Mississippi three….” He sagged against the table by the door and felt his heart lurch when Remi’s truck roared to life. He stayed put counting to the time of fifteen before he let himself move. He closed the door with a slam and locked it though he didn’t much know why. No one came out here but him, and everyone knew it was his land. Things didn’t go missing in Plenty, not like in the city, but he did it anyhow. He stopped at the door of his truck and looked off in the direction Remi had gone. There was no sign of him. If his heart wasn’t still slamming in his chest, he’d have never known he was even there.
Grant didn’t like that. But it was what it was, and at the landing of a fat raindrop he pulled his door open and swung up into the cab of his truck, determined to put the whole thing out of his mind. It was hardly 5 o’clock, if he let Remi take over his thoughts now, he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.
His hands clenched on the steering wheel. That was a laugh. Remi Wilson had occupied more than his fair share of Grant’s thoughts, and even if he tried to put it out of his mind, he’d stew over what had happened today for the rest of the evening. He sighed and leaned forward, looking out the window as the rain began to fall in earnest. A crack of lightning brightened the sky as sure as a camera flash and Grant jumped, despite having grown up with such storms. He’d loved storms when he was a child but it didn’t rain quite like this in Los Angeles; there the storms rolled in, water on pavement, the heat and bustle of the city devouring the wild of a thunderstorm.
But here?
In Plenty storms were allowed to be. Their power and force unfettered as it settled on the land and people. There was a beauty to it, a certain solitude that could happen when everything was a flurry of water and light, the outside disappearing from thought with each passing second. The drum of rain on a roof, the way it tapped against window panes, it was all a melody he knew by heart
, except that now Grant hated it.
Hated it for the fact that it reflected the anger and confusion at seeing Remi as he had. His emotions felt as tumultuous as the rain and lightning, and he didn’t much care for it. He didn’t want a storm. Not now. What he wanted was to go home and change out of his work clothes. He wanted to pull on a pair of sweats, reheat whatever leftovers he had, and watch whatever sports he could find. He’d watch ice curling, competitive chess, or bobsledding if it just meant he could shut off his brain for a solid half hour.
Remi always did have a way of making him feel like he was coming apart at the seams. Grant’s grip tightened once more on the wheel and he leaned forward squinting out the windshield against the raging storm. He was just turning the corner, his truck climbing a long hill that had the engine straining and wheels spinning against the now muddy road. Grant blew out a sigh as he crested the hill and vowed to have the road regraveled. The last time he could remember it being done was when he was in high school, and from the way his truck was working overtime it was sorely needed.
Grant squinted against the falling rain and turned carefully, easing around the corner to see the sight of another vehicle very nearly sideways across the road.
“What the hell? Who is that?” He reached out, speeding up the windshield wipers to get a better look at who had managed to get themselves stuck this far out from town. It was only when he drove forward another hundred feet that he recognized the familiar flash of teal blue.
