by DJ Jamison
Rory had heard the story from Julien before—that the island was originally owned by a man, Andrew Stearn, who’d been married but had exchanged love letters with a lighthouse keeper, Edison Crane, who worked on the island. Desperately sad love letters filled with longing for something they believed they could never have.
But reading their words for himself was different. More visceral.
Beside him, Avery sucked in a shaky breath. Rory looked over to see him reading intently, his hands pressed to his mouth. He blinked rapidly. “They were in love,” he croaked.
“Yes,” Julien said, sounding softer now.
“That’s so sad, how they had to hide…”
Rory felt moved by their words, as well. By the pain and yearning in them. But Avery? He looked gutted. He clearly felt those words at a soul-deep level, and it made Rory appreciate—maybe for the first time—that he didn’t fully understand what it was like to be oppressed. Sure, he was gay, and he’d had a run-in or two with bigots, including Julien’s father, but he’d never felt the pain of true intolerance. His mother knew he was gay before he did; his family and friends had always accepted him. Avery’s resistance to openly dating him was the closest he’d come to feeling what these men felt—but they were just kids, and he’d always known that wouldn’t be his life.
But Avery? He was actively discouraged from being openly, honestly himself. He was discouraged from dating, finding love, building a real life. He was far more emotionally moved by the content of the exhibit because he saw a bit of his own life reflected back at him.
“It gets happier,” Julien said. He tapped the glass over another set of letters. “It’s not all pain and suffering. This is a wedding venue, so we must have our happy ending.”
They shuffled over, reading the gradual change in tone. The owner’s wife had died, and he was genuinely saddened by her loss. But over time, as the grief faded, the men gravitated toward one another, now free to love as they wanted on the isolated island. They both lived on the island until their deaths, and there was no tangible sign they’d been a couple other than the few letters they’d exchanged in their early years, but you could feel it come across, their love. Rory was sure they must have built a life together on Bliss, separated from the restrictions of the mainland by a few miles of ocean water that allowed them to live and love as they wished.
“And here’s an even happier bit,” Julien said, leading them to a corkboard on the next wall. It was not encased with glass, but it had dozens of snapshots pinned up, along with handwritten love notes. “I take a photo of all our queer couples in front of the lighthouse,” Julien said.
Dozens of happy, same-sex couples smiling in front of the lighthouse where once a gay man had stood, wishing for the man he loved.
“This is fucking amazing, Julien,” Rory said, getting a bit teary-eyed himself. The juxtaposition of the island’s past and present was striking. It was honoring the pain and heartache of the past—even though the men got their happy ending, it came with secrecy and subterfuge and isolation—while celebrating the open love and commitment among queer couples. “This is brilliant.”
“This should be featured in the news,” Avery added, his voice rough. “This should be open for tours.”
“We’re considering it,” Julien said. “Island tours, anyhow, that would include this as the final destination. It would require more staffing, and we’d have to determine how to avoid conflicts with weddings and other events, but…” He shrugged. “I didn’t do it for money. I did it for love. The love I felt in these letters, the love I found here myself. It just felt right to commemorate it.”
Soon after, they’d wrapped up their tour of the island, and Rory and Avery had retreated to their rooms to rest and freshen up before dinner. Rory would have just met Avery downstairs, as he had for breakfast, but he’d received a text asking him to come by Avery’s room.
He was intrigued—and a tiny bit worried Avery was going to suggest they hook up again. He wasn’t sure he could resist the temptation this time, especially after the emotional moments in front of those love letters. He found himself more and more drawn to Avery. It’d been difficult enough when he just had his attraction to contend with, but then Avery had moved into his home and his life, sharing meals with him, watching television. Though that was nothing to the aching vulnerability he’d seen in Avery since the confrontation with his father, even more so now that he had agreed to move forward with this plan.
Avery wasn’t cocky; he wasn’t some entitled jerk who didn’t know a good thing when he had it. Rory had believed in a fiction all these years to make his own heartbreak more bearable. No, Avery had been a scared boy and then a caged man. He’d been restrained by the love for his father, and having already lost his mother, who could blame him for doing everything he could to cling to the family he had left?
And Rory had just walked away.
For the first time, he wasn’t so sure he was the hero in his own story, and that was disconcerting.
He lifted his hand to knock on Avery’s door a second time when a shaky voice called, “Come in!”
Rory shook off his thoughts about their past and stepped inside, only to be stunned silent by what he saw. Never in a million years had he imagined this.
Avery Kinkaid stood in the center of his room, looking nervous and uncertain—and utterly, breathtakingly gorgeous.
He wore a rose-colored T-shirt made out of some sort of sheer material with intricate, lacy roses forming a pattern that kept it from being see-through, but the peeks it did allow were tantalizing. It was a V-neck, dipping low, baring a surprisingly smooth chest. And if Rory wasn’t mistaken…
He stepped closer, to be sure, but yes: Avery wore a shimmery lip gloss and a dusting of pink eye shadow, along with an eyeliner that made his blue eyes seem huge and luminous. Holy fuck, he was so gorgeous like this, it was a shock to the system. Rory had always seen Avery as a bit of jock, with his broad shoulders and athletic build. But now? All that softness he knew was inside Avery was reflected on his face, in his clothing. Avery wasn’t that brash, conceited man Rory had tried to make him out to be.
He’d never been that man.
“I look stupid, don’t I?” Avery said, fidgeting nervously. He crossed his arms, then dropped them to his sides, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight-fitting jeans. Rory got a bit lost in inspecting every inch of him. “I’ll change.”
“No, don’t change,” Rory said. “It’s a surprise, but a good surprise.”
“Really?” Avery bit his bottom lip. “I’ve never, uh…dressed up for anyone before.”
Rory read between the lines. Avery had dressed up, just not for other people. How sad that he’d hidden this side of himself, this beautiful, sexy side.
Avery continued, “It’s just Julien, he dressed so…and I thought, maybe here…” Avery seemed unable to finish a single thought. “But I don’t look like him, and it’s dumb to think I could pull it off.”
“No, Avery.” Rory grasped his trembling hands, which Avery had started twisting in front of himself anxiously. “You look great.”
Avery didn’t look convinced. He studied Rory’s face as if searching for the lie. God, but Rory wanted to kiss his fears away. Shit. How was he supposed to maintain boundaries with all of this in front of him? It wasn’t just that Avery looked good in the lacy shirt, or the makeup, it was that he was revealing a hidden side to himself.
“After seeing those letters today, I just…I wanted to try,” Avery whispered.
Julien deserved a fucking award. Little did he know that he’d been the role model Avery needed, someone true to himself, someone who celebrated love and sacrifice. Rory would have to thank him later.
For now, he could do only one thing.
He tugged Avery’s hands, urging him closer, and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re lovely,” he murmured. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Avery tensed. “I’m not supposed to be,
though. This is too…girly, and I’m too…I’m all man.” He grabbed Rory’s hand and shoved it against his crotch. “I want to fuck you into the mattress.”
Rory raised an eyebrow at Avery’s defensive tone. “Do you, though? Or do you just feel like you should say that?”
Avery faltered, dropping Rory’s hand and stepping back. “I should change.”
“Please don’t,” Rory said. “If you don’t want to be called lovely, I won’t call you lovely. But please don’t change. You can be yourself here.”
“I don’t know if this is myself,” Avery said, sounding so confused it was heartbreaking.
“Something made you put this on,” Rory said. “Something made you buy it in the first place. Let yourself explore, even if you’re not sure. This is a safe space, Avery. Caleb and Julien won’t judge, and neither will I.”
Avery looked skeptical. “You’re the most judgmental person I know.”
Rory gasped, heart squeezing. “That hurts. I know I have high standards, and I hold people to them, but that’s not the same.”
Avery shrugged, and he sighed. He had judged Avery, hadn’t he? He’d assumed he knew Avery because they’d hooked up in high school. He’d assumed the front Avery presented to him was the real Avery. But even when they were sneaking around, Avery had kept a part of himself locked up.
He was still afraid to let that part out, and it was unbearably sad.
“I promise I won’t judge you on this,” Rory said gently. “I really do think you look amazing.”
“It’s not silly, a big man like me in these pretty things?”
“No.” Rory took a quick breath. “It’s fucking sexy, to be completely honest.”
Avery’s lips finally, finally twitched up into a smile.
“Come on,” Rory said before the mood took another nosedive. “Let’s go to dinner.”
Avery took a deep breath that made his chest rise. Then he nodded and took the hand Rory extended. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
Avery had never felt so naked in his life as when he stood in front of Rory dressed in pink lace and lip gloss. He’d examined himself in the mirror as he waited for Rory to arrive, loving the shimmer to his lips and eyelids, and yet certain that he was going to make a fool of himself. Julien was a gorgeous, sensuous man who could pull off those sexy clothes, but Avery? He was that breed of all-American you saw drinking beer at football games or, hell, playing in football games. He was the man behind the grill, the man giving the speech at the political rally or at the head of a business meeting.
Avery had seen himself reflected in the world around him, through his father’s life, through media. He was not supposed to be lovely, as Rory had proclaimed. He was not pretty or delicate or any of those things, and even dressed in lace, he couldn’t see himself that way. The clothes were pretty, the material delicate—not him. No matter how right it felt to slide them into place, felt as if he were sliding the final piece into a puzzle, he still wasn’t able to see the big picture. He still didn’t know where he belonged, how he wanted to be perceived, or what it meant that he needed silky, lacy, pretty things.
Caleb and Julien were already in the bar. Avery’s eyes sought out Julien, needing solidarity with someone else to make him feel less alone.
He breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw him, not in his bulky sweater of the morning, but in a tight, turquoise T-shirt with a depiction of a Jesus-like figure in a rainbow robe and the phrase “Ahhhh Men.”
Avery admired his audacity, and though it wasn’t feminine, Avery breathed a little easier to know he wasn’t alone in pushing the envelope.
“Hey guys,” Rory said. “I see we’ve all dressed up tonight.”
Avery’s eyes flashed to Rory, suddenly aware he’d been so self-conscious he hadn’t even looked twice—which was a shame. Rory wore tight jeans with a leather belt, a designer T-shirt that hugged his slender torso and a military-style jacket open over top, all of it accented with a wood-bead choker around his neck, a leather wristband, and hair loosely pulled back into knot, with just a few tendrils drifting around his face.
Now, Rory. There was a guy who could pull off delicate, lacy things, if he wanted. But Avery loved him like this, looking sexy and masculine even with long hair and long lashes and sharp cheekbones.
“You guys look great,” Julien said. He hugged Rory quickly, then, to Avery’s surprise, hugged him as well. “I love this shirt of yours. Pretty and sexy.”
He drew back before Avery could form a response, flashing a devious smile. “You guys make a fantastic couple.” He held up his hands as if framing a photo. “Damn, I wish I had my camera.”
“No, please don’t,” Avery said quickly, heart skipping erratically. He wasn’t ready to be captured on film this way. Right now, Bliss Island felt safe, Caleb and Julien and Rory felt safe. But out there, in the real world? Nothing was safe. Out there, he was Avery Kinkaid, son of a wealthy, connected senator and vice president of Kinkaid Banks, recognizable and newsworthy.
Rory touched his arm. “He was kidding.”
Avery realized they were all looking at him. Julien looked contrite. “Bad joke, sorry. I tortured you two enough this morning.”
“Why don’t we all sit?” Caleb suggested.
Tonight, the cart laden with dinner dishes was already next to the table, waiting to be served. Avery’s stomach had been so tied up in nerves that he hadn’t given a thought to food, but now it rumbled.
They sat while Caleb served clam chowder, bacon-wrapped scallops, and blueberry bread pudding for dessert. Avery was suddenly ravenous, unable to do anything but stuff his face. It had been a long day between the prolonged photo session and tour of the island. It had also been an emotionally draining day. He’d been gutted by those old love letters, imagining he knew how they felt. Then feeling ashamed, because of course he didn’t. They’d pined for one another and loved in secret because they had no choice. Avery had pined and loved in secret because he’d wanted to please his father.
He couldn’t believe Rory was here, sitting beside him, faking an engagement with him, when he knew Avery’s true colors. Had seen them years ago. But he was so, so grateful that Rory was a better man than him.
“So, how did the photo shoot go?” Caleb asked once he retook this seat. “You two looked a bit shell-shocked when you came in.”
“You married a sadist,” Rory said, his voice filled with humor. “He kept making us get closer, closer. He put us in compromising positions, Caleb. He might have a problem.”
Avery squirmed uncomfortably, remembering the feeling of Rory’s ass rubbing against his cock. He’d been half hard during that entire shoot, and then fully hard at the end when he’d stupidly propositioned Rory. How many times would he do that before he learned? Well, that was probably the last time. Now that he’d shown Rory this side of himself, he wouldn’t dare ask again. Rory had been very kind, but he had also looked shocked when he first saw Avery. Rory had been attracted to a preppy jock all those years ago, not a man who wore lace and makeup.
“You should be thanking me,” Julien said unrepentantly.
“Thank you for taking the photos,” Avery said. “It’ll look more official, having professional work done.”
Julien waved a hand. “That’s important, sure, but that’s not what I meant.” His expression looked mischievous. “You should be thanking me for giving you a crash course in getting close and intimate. You don’t know what the next few weeks will bring.”
“It’s likely to be months,” Rory said. “About three to four months. Avery has agreed to help me partner with the Kinkaid Foundation for a fundraising gala for Equal Justice League. We’re falling far too short after funding cuts, and my job is pretty much on the chopping block, otherwise.”
“I didn’t know your job was at risk,” Avery said, frowning. He’d very nearly walked away from this entire scheme, and he hadn’t so much as reached out to the Kinkaid Foundation chairwoman yet. He needed to get the ball rolling. An
event of any magnitude would take time to plan.
“My job isn’t really what matters,” Rory said, because of course he would think that way. He’d always been so selfless. “My clients, they matter. We match them with qualified, talented lawyers who help level the playing field so they get adequate representation. The defense attorneys offered by the state are overworked with huge caseloads, and they do a piss-poor job. Every case we take from them helps our clients and, frankly, the rest of the people in need of public defense because it’s one less case they have to deal with.”
“There’s a lot riding on this fake engagement,” Caleb observed.
“There is, but the gala is not contingent on it,” Avery said. “I’ll help with that, even if everything else falls apart.”
“It can’t fall apart,” Rory said firmly. “If it does, that would tarnish the Equal Justice League. There are ethical standards…”
“And a sham engagement doesn’t qualify as ethical, I take it,” Caleb added.
“Exactly.”
“So, it’s important you get this right then,” Julien said. “You have to go into this solid and united. And you have to get more comfortable with one another.”
Rory exchanged a glance with Avery. “What do you mean? We’re comfortable.”
Julien held up a hand, waving it back and forth in a so-so movement. “You’ve got decent chemistry, but you only got close when I pushed for it. Avery looked uncomfortable half the time. I took a lot of photos, but I’ll be editing half of them out.”
Rory looked offended. “You were uncomfortable?”
Uncomfortably turned on, maybe. He didn’t know how to explain. “Not because you were close, but because…” He grimaced. “I didn’t want to cross boundaries.”
“Oh.” Rory looked disappointed.
Avery wasn’t sure he got the point, so he leaned in and murmured in his ear, “You made me hard, and I was afraid of coming in my pants.”
Rory gasped, turning his head to look at Avery, eyes wide. Just when he worried he should have kept his mouth shut, Rory smiled. “Oh. Okay. That is much better than you being uncomfortable about touching me.”
