by E M Lindsey
He didn’t remove his hand, instead trailing it to the back of Jonas’ head, letting his damp curls wrap around his fingertips as Jonas leaned in and let Ronan gather him into an embrace. They didn’t kiss right away, Ronan holding him by the hips, gazes locked like an orbit. Then, as Parker’s pulse beat wildly in his throat, Ronan drew him in and pressed their lips together.
Parker watched, and he could feel it, the memory of Ronan’s kisses and the memory of Jonas’. He knew how his husband moved, the way his tongue dipped in slowly, like he was tasting every inch of Jonas’ mouth. He knew how he’d graze his teeth along Jonas’ bottom lip, making it plump and soft. He knew the way Ronan would dig fingers into Jonas’ soft skin at his hips and the way he’d groan and let Jonas catch the sound on his tongue.
And he knew now what Jonas would be like—the hesitant but needy way he’d kiss back with trembling fingers gripping him. Parker was apart from it, but felt right there with them all the same.
It was over too soon, but it was enough. Ronan broke away with a series of soft pecks, and Parker was glad to show Jonas this careful, soft side of his husband that so few people ever got to witness. Ronan was gruff, and he didn’t deal with people well, but he was a good man. He was the best man.
Pressing himself up against Jonas, Parker laid a kiss to his neck and breathed in the scent of him. It was wholly different from the man he’d been waking up to every morning for the last ten years, but it was refreshing in its own way.
“Soon? We can see you soon?”
“Yes,” Jonas promised. “Monday at least.”
“And then the weekend,” Parker said.
“Don’t make me wait too long,” Jonas whispered.
Ronan reached out and hooked a finger under his chin. “We won’t.” He spoke the words like a vow, and Parker felt them right down to his core as Jonas nodded. They had to go before it was too late, before either of them were unable to walk away.
It was slow moving, even with Parker at Ronan’s side. It took them too long for Ronan to get his orthotics on, for Parker to gather his arm and for Jonas to see them to the door, but eventually they were at the car, standing on soggy ground with a light mist falling over them.
“Tell me this is okay,” Ronan begged.
Parker dropped the arm in the mud and reached for Ronan, yanking him close. He kissed him then, hard and furious, like he was trying to see if he could taste Jonas in there still. And maybe he couldn’t, but it didn’t matter. He was kissing where the other man had been that night.
“I don’t have the words to explain how I feel, but it’s not bad,” Parker told him.
Ronan looked tired, but mostly he just seemed relieved as he pushed his face into the crook of Parker’s neck. “This could be something. If he lets it.”
And it was then Parker realized, the ball was entirely in Jonas’ court.
Chapter Twenty
The little coffee maker was a lifesaver for Jonas, because as much as Parker and Ronan both had insisted no one would care what they had seen by the pool, or under that tree in the rain, or behind his closed hotel door, he wasn’t ready to face anyone. The Motels were entrenched in the fabric of Cherry Creek, even as newcomers to the town themselves. They weren’t part of history, but they were making Cherry Creek’s future.
So he drank his fill of caffeine and avoided any chance of running into anyone by sneaking out the side gate and making his way to town on foot.
Jonas wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for that early morning, only that he needed a walk to clear his head, and he needed some semblance of peace from the chaotic riot in his soul. He hadn’t slept for shit after Parker and Ronan had gone. His lips tingled from their kisses, his body aching from missing them, and it had only been moments in the grand scheme of things.
He was in too goddamn deep. He came to town to try and ease his conscience by finding some potential middle ground between his father’s greed and what the townspeople needed, and instead he found himself on a path that could lead to something big, something important and all-encompassing.
But only if he let it.
He was a battered, bruised version of a man he might have become if he’d been brave enough to leave the night he walked into Peter’s office, and he didn’t trust himself. Years under Peter’s thumb had made him weak. His therapist had been talking him around to leaving, to accepting Peter’s treatment for what it was—abuse. Yet, he still hadn’t found the right words to say—or the strength he’d need to let them out when he finally did.
Parker and Ronan were motivation to be sure, but motivation wasn’t always enough.
With a sigh, Jonas reached into his pocket and shoved his sunglasses on his face before taking a right turn near the bookshop. Jonas wandered to the center of town, at the remnants of the closed Market with the empty skeleton stalls and old kernels of un-popped kettle corn. The sun was high, and it was warm, and the town felt oddly dead that afternoon.
The party had probably raged on late that night after it moved inside, and Jonas half-appreciated that he had some space to himself to think. The kisses had been thrilling, terrifying, and unwelcome in the way that they shook the foundation of everything he’d ever known in his life. Ronan and Parker were offering him something he desperately wanted, but he didn’t know how to reach out and take.
It wasn’t as simple as quitting his job. The future of the town rested on his ability to make the right decision, and if he up and left, his father wouldn’t hesitate to level everything he could out of petty revenge. And even if he didn’t, Jonas wasn’t sure sacrificing what little power he did have with the company for an uncertain future was enough.
He owed it to himself to find happiness. His therapist had told him that enough, but it was hard to make that choice when there were no certainties. He felt young and inexperienced and so damn lonely he wanted to cry.
Turning the corner, Jonas stopped when he felt eyes on him, and he saw a shorter man with dark hair and deep eyes leaning against the bakery railing. His expression was soft, more curious than anything, and Jonas made his way over as the man opened the door for him.
“You look lost,” the guy said.
Jonas couldn’t help his laugh as he stepped past the threshold and into the lobby. It was decorated sweet and simple, like any good cupcake shop should be with soft pastels and a light floor. The word Indulgence was painted on the far wall, and it reflected on the display glass, which held a rainbow of frosting with small tags marking flavors.
“This is fantastic,” Jonas murmured.
After a beat, the guy cleared his throat, and Jonas looked up to see him holding back a few locks of hair. “I’m hard of hearing,” the guy said.
Jonas flushed. “Oh, God. Sorry. What do you need me to do?”
“Just look up when you talk,” he said, his tone friendly, and he extended his hand. “I’m Wilder.”
His palm was soft and dry against Jonas’, his grip firm but kind. “Jonas Woods. I’m…”
“Yes,” Wilder interrupted with a glint in his eye. “I know who you are. Talk of Cherry Creek, actually.”
Jonas flushed and rubbed the back of his neck after drawing his hand away. “That’s not mortifying at all.”
Wilder chuckled and leaned his forearms on the counter. “What do you want to try?”
Eyes going wide, Jonas flicked his gaze back to the display case. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been a cupcake guy.”
Instead of looking offended, Wilder looked thrilled. “I love being able to change people’s minds.” He hummed, giving Jonas a once-over, then ducked down and returned with a cupcake pinched between his fingers.
The frosting was bright white with brown char on top like a toasted marshmallow, and the wrapper was lavender. He took it, looking down past the frosting at something soft and green. “What is it?”
“Jasmine and Oolong,” he said with a smile. “I have a series of tea cupcakes, and this just seemed like you.”
Jonas peeled back the wrapping, and well aware he was being watched, he took a bite. The cake itself was only slightly more crumbly than one with gluten, but the oolong flavor exploded on his tongue. A bit of the filling seeped out, and he swiped it with his finger, tasting the jasmine there right in the cream.
“This is amazing,” he breathed.
Wilder smiled and motioned over to a table by the window. “Let’s sit.”
Jonas couldn’t tell him no and ambled over as Wilder followed with two bottles of water, setting one aside for him as he pulled his chair out. Laying the cupcake down, he peeled back the rest of the wrapper and broke it in half, taking another small bite. “I see why people talk about this place so much.”
Wilder’s cheeks dimpled in with his smile. “Do they?”
“You’ve been mentioned more than once.”
There was a hint of sadness in Wilder’s eyes as he glanced around, then he shrugged one shoulder. “Mostly people tell me how much they miss the bakery that was here before. Levi and I get along, but I think he resents me a little for changing it so much. I mean, he grew up here. He was raised in that kitchen.”
Jonas didn’t know what it would feel like to have such a strong connection to anything. His parents hadn’t moved, and his childhood had been steady, but there was no real love there. The halls of his childhood home were cold and sterile, and the look in his mother’s eyes had been dead for years.
He twisted the ring on his finger—the little bit of silver Birdie had given him—and it was a stronger tie to this place than anywhere he’d ever spent time growing up. “He seems happy though. I saw him at the Farmer’s Market, and he was smiling.”
Wilder nodded. “He doesn’t hate me. I think the change was just hard.”
And god did Jonas feel that to the depths of his soul. He wanted to upend his life, to throw caution to the four corners of the earth and let the wind currents drag him out of the place he’d been buried in for so damn long. But there was no cushion beneath him. He had nothing to catch him. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to survive a crash.
“Are you okay?” Wilder’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Jonas managed a smile.
“Yeah. Just a long night. Were you at the party?”
Wilder snorted and shook his head. “No. I don’t really do social gatherings. A couple of my friends stopped by with wine and some of the leftover food, but it wasn’t for me. I heard it got rained out anyway.”
Jonas closed his eyes and, for a brief moment, felt Parker’s searing hot mouth in fierce juxtaposition to the cold rain pouring down around them. He fought back a shiver, then licked his lips. “Yeah. We had to turn in early. It was nice while it lasted.”
Wilder chuckled. “Isn’t that always the case.” He laid his hand flat on the table, and when his sleeve rucked up, Jonas caught a glimpse of a couple of thick scars like slashes across his arm. He tried not to stare, but Wilder must have noticed, because he tugged his shirt down and put his hand in his lap. “So, what’s the verdict?”
Jonas blinked at him.
“Are you a cupcake convert?”
At that, Jonas laughed and shrugged. “I think I am. It was good choice.”
Wilder beamed and sat back, looking more self-satisfied than Jonas had ever felt about anything. “Want to take some with you?”
“Can I take a rain check? I have a lot of walking, but it’s too good of an offer to pass up.”
Wilder nodded, then pushed up and took the trash from Jonas’ hand before walking him to the door. “I hope you stick around, Jonas.”
He turned and frowned. “I’m just here for work.”
Wilder chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve heard that before, just like I’ve seen that same look in someone else’s eyes. It’s a good place to live. If you ever want to think about it.”
Jonas had nothing to say, so he simply nodded and pushed his way out the door. Wilder was kind, but unnerving, and Jonas couldn’t help but wonder if everyone else found him so painfully easy to read.
Jonas was all nerves when he pulled up to Ronan’s cabin and saw movement behind the window. It had been a long twenty-four hours without seeing, or even speaking to, either man. Parker had sent a couple of texts, two of them photos of his arm holding medical equipment that Jonas refused to ask about and the other asking him how he was doing.
He responded short but polite, and Parker seemed to take the hint that he needed a little time and left him be, but he did get a text from Ronan not long after asking if the date was still on.
Jonas: Yes, it is. I’m looking forward to seeing you. And Parker, since I know he’s reading this over your shoulder.
He got a selfie in return, of Ronan looking annoyed and Parker flashing a grin. He didn’t respond, but he allowed himself to stare at it long after he should have been sleeping. Fantasies crept into the edges of his thoughts, teasing him, mocking him for something he wasn’t sure he could have.
He fell asleep with his phone in his palm and woke in the morning clutching it to his chest.
Jonas distracted himself for most of the day by looking at the Cherry Creek website and seeing what the town could use that would make his father money but benefit the people in case his Plan-A failed.
Of course, the moment Jonas got home, his father would ignore him. He’d smile and give him a back-handed compliment and then go forward with whatever he and his CFO cooked up while he was gone that would line their pockets regardless of whose backs they had to stand on to get there.
He hated it—the senseless cruelty, the way people were ruined. He couldn’t live like that for much longer. Even if the people in Cherry Creek forgave him, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
He tucked that thought away as he headed out to the preserve, and he felt a strange, almost overwhelming relief when the door to the station opened and Ronan stood there in the doorway, leaning on his cane. He looked better than he had on the Fourth, his eyes less tired, his body standing straighter.
He’d lost the tremble in his fingers as he reached a hand out for Jonas and drew him in with a warm palm clasped to the back of his neck. The door slammed just seconds before Ronan’s mouth was on him, almost desperate in a way that Ronan hadn’t been with him before.
“Is everything okay?” Jonas breathed when Ronan finally let go.
Ronan chuckled and dragged his fingers through the curls at the back of Jonas’ neck. “Yes. I was a little worried you wouldn’t show after Parker was…the way he was. I love my husband, but he has a very unique way of making things harder, even when he doesn’t mean to.”
Jonas felt a small surge of guilt for how unresponsive he’d been, how withdrawn that night in his hotel room. And it wasn’t Ronan’s fault, and it certainly wasn’t because Parker had been himself. He took a breath, then cupped Ronan’s cheeks and dragged his thumbs over the sharp cheekbones. “I didn’t come here with expectations, but I was definitely not scared off.”
Ronan laughed. “I’m glad.”
Jonas rolled his eyes, but grinned. “I expected you to be politely withdrawn at worst, like when we first met.”
Ronan swallowed. “Is that what I was?”
“Not for long,” Jonas told him.
Ronan shrugged and took a step back, his cane thumping on the wood as he moved toward the desk. “I tried. God help me, I tried to keep my shit together, but there was something about you.”
Jonas knew the feeling well. “I just needed time to process. I ran into Wilder outside the cupcake shop. He fed me cupcakes.”
Ronan turned, his brow furrowed. “Like a date?”
“Oh my god.” Jonas approached the desk. “He picked out a tea flavored cupcake and gave it to me. He was nice.”
“He is,” Ronan hedged. “And he’s uncomplicated.”
At that, Jonas couldn’t help his laugh. “Everyone’s complicated. Unless you mean he’s not married…”
Ronan glanced away, then sighed and sank into his chair, setting
his cane to the side. “He’s been here a while, and he’s made friends. He’s a good man. He’s probably also a bit more flexible than Parker and I can be.”
Jonas realized then what he was saying. He hovered there, near the edge of the desk for only a moment, then pulled on bits of bravery he was surprised came so easily and dragged a chair over and sat close enough their knees touched.
“I like that you have roots here,” Jonas told him softly. He hesitated, then reached out and laid a hand on Ronan’s knee. The soft green trousers were stiff under his fingers, but he liked the feeling of them. They were worn and loved—treasured the way he imagined Ronan kept everything that was important to him. Jonas could tell he loved his job, his husband, and his friends.
“It’s just…we can’t ask you to uproot your life for us on a whim,” Ronan told him. He laid his hand on top of Jonas’ and held it there.
“I didn’t think you were.”
Ronan shrugged, staring at where they were touching—their knees, their fingers. Jonas followed his gaze and was struck by how good it looked and how right it felt. “We can’t offer you middle ground. Parker’s not the sort of man who can do long distance. We weren’t together for a long time. When I showed up at his apartment in Denver, it was to beg him to come home. He said yes, but only on the condition that I marry him first.”
“And what if you’d said no?” Jonas asked.
“Then I would have gone with him. I would have left all this shit behind, because I knew he was worth that sacrifice. But he doesn’t live a life of compromise. He won’t be okay with just sometimes.” Ronan’s voice was soft, almost resigned to an ending Jonas wasn’t ready to accept.
“This is all new,” Jonas said. “And I’ve never really been in a relationship.”
Ronan’s eyes went wide. “Are you a…”
“A virgin?” Jonas said with a laugh. “No, I’m not. But I’ve never dated someone more than a few weeks.” He bit his lip, then let go to add, “I’ve never wanted to. Before now.”