Twice Shy

by Sally Malcolm

  “Here you go, boys.” Dee set down a loaded tray on the table next door and began unloading their drinks and a large plate of cookies and cake.

  “Cookie!” Luis said, making grabby hands, feet drumming harder. “Cookie! Cookie!”

  “I want one!” Rory’s eyes were wide. “Can I have one, Ollie? Please? Pleaaase?”

  Joel grimaced. “I hope this wasn’t a bad idea?” He caught Ollie’s eye and thought it probably had been. Shit. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”

  “No, it’s fine.” But Ollie looked doubtful. “I mean, it won’t hurt if they don’t eat their dinner, right?”

  That look in his eye? Hell, that was a real question. He was asking for something—advice, or approval.

  “It’s not gonna hurt them,” Joel said, although he felt like a dumbass for not checking with Ollie first. “They look pretty healthy to me.”

  Ollie gave an uncertain laugh and Dee said, “It’s food for the soul, Ollie. Once in a while, a fun time and a treat is better for kids than a balanced meal and an early night.”

  “Yeah?” He looked relieved. “Yeah, okay. It’s not every day we get to have hot chocolate and cookies with Mr. Morgan, is it Rory?”

  “And do swinging,” Rory said, although his eyes hadn’t left the plate with the cookies. All credit to Ollie, Rory hadn’t taken one without permission.

  In the end, Ollie broke one of the cookies in two and gave the kids half each. Joel helped Rory kneel up on his chair to reach his hot chocolate and gleefully fish out tiny marshmallows with his teaspoon, while Ollie poured some of Luis’s hot chocolate into a plastic sippy cup, swirling it around and blowing on it to cool it down. Turned out, Luis couldn’t manage a normal cup yet and that showed exactly what Joel knew about raising young kids.

  He watched, fascinated and a little awestruck, as Ollie organized everything for the boys, leaving his own coffee cooling and untouched until he’d made sure they both had what they needed. It wasn’t so much the complexity of what Ollie was doing that impressed him, because it wasn’t complex, but the extent to which Ollie’s needs, even something as simple as taking a sip of coffee, came last. He guessed this was what parenting meant, and maybe it was simply Ollie’s youth, or the fact that he was starting to understand what the guy had sacrificed to parent these boys, but Joel was touched. No. More than that, he felt moved to help, to somehow lift the burden Ollie carried on his young shoulders.

  Which was both ridiculous and overly dramatic. Unfortunately, ridiculous and overly dramatic were Joel’s modus operandi when it came to romantic relationships. Not that this was any such thing: at most it was a promising friendship. Although it would be a lie to pretend that Joel’s attraction to Ollie didn’t have a romantic as well as a physical element. The two always went together for him. Truth was, Joel was a sucker when it came to affairs of the heart. And that left him vulnerable. He needed to be on his guard.

  “So,” Ollie said when he finally had a moment to pick up his latte and take a sip. “Mmm…” His eyes closed briefly, and he smiled in pleasure. Joel felt that smile like heat all over his skin. Opening his eyes—warm in this light, a deep brown—Ollie said, “This is a real treat, thanks.”

  “I figure we earned it today, after all that chasing about.”

  Ollie took another sip of coffee, both hands wrapped around the mug as if he were cold. “Gotta say, when I moved here, I was looking forward to being close to the beach—but not so much in October.”

  Joel laughed. “New Milton’s a beach town every day of the year. So I’m told.”

  “You’re not from here originally, then?”

  “Me? No. I moved here after my divorce. I was looking for…peace, I guess. A quiet life.”

  Ollie gave a rueful smile. “I remember peace.”

  “The kids keep you on your toes, huh?”

  “Day and night.” Another sip of his coffee hid whatever expression crossed his face. “They’re great. Just”—a glance at Rory— “you know. A lot.”

  Joel didn’t know, but he could imagine. A twenty-four/seven job with no weekends, no sick days, and no vacation? That was a lot for two parents, let alone one. “You have family nearby to help out?”

  “Not really. My mom’s based in Colorado Springs, but she travels a lot for work. She’s a civilian auditor with the Air Force, based in Guam right now. She came back for a few months after…” A glance at Rory. “But she has to work, you know? And it’s a good job. The kids’ grandparents—paternal grandparents—live on the island, though, in Woodbury. That’s one of the reasons I decided to settle here, so the boys could keep that contact.”

  “Do they help out much?”

  Ollie met his eyes across the table, a very expressive look. No, it said. Not at all. “They love the boys. They want the best for them.” He hesitated. “They’re pretty conservative.”

  Ah. And their idea of ‘the best’, Joel surmised, was probably not being raised by a young gay man. He wondered how Ollie had ended up with the boys, but it was impossible to ask with Rory sitting right there. He said, “I see,” and then heard himself add, “Well, if you ever need a hand, let me know. I’d be happy to help.”

  Ollie gave a tight smile. “Thanks, but I’m fine. We get along fine.”

  “I can see that, but the offer still stands. It’s not easy being new in town—took me a couple years to find my feet and I only had myself to worry about.”

  “Yeah? You didn’t—?” He broke off as the bells above the door tinkled and a swirl of cool air brushed the back of Joel’s neck. Twisting around to see what had caught Ollie’s eye, his heart sank. Luca Moretti stood frozen mid-stride on the threshold of the coffee shop, staring in their direction. For a horrible moment Joel thought he knew, that it was obvious they weren’t just friends grabbing a coffee, but then he realized Moretti’s gaze was fixed on Ollie, not him, and that his expression was startled. Turning back around, he was surprised to find Ollie returning Moretti’s look with equal discomfort. After a moment Ollie gave a stiff nod and looked away, out the window. Behind Joel, Moretti walked past their table to the counter and ordered a couple of coffees to go.

  Jaw locked, Ollie stared fixedly out the window. His fingers, wrapped around his mug, looked stiff and tense. “Okay?” Joel said uneasily.

  Ollie’s gaze flicked to Moretti. Quietly, he said, “You know him?”

  “No.” After a pause, he added, “Looks like you do, though?”

  But Ollie shook his head. “Not really.”

  Joel stirred his coffee, watching the tiny whirlpool he’d created. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Ollie watching Moretti with interest. “I know he’s Theo Wishart’s partner at the Majestic.” Looking up and studying Ollie’s face, he added, “Romantic as well as business. Much to the regret of half the women in town. And a few of the guys, no doubt.”

  “Is that so?” If Ollie was surprised by the news it didn’t show. In fact, he relaxed a fraction and caught Joel’s eye, smiling. “Anyone I know?”

  The speculation—the interest—in his gaze was overt and all Joel’s instincts warned him to retreat, to play straight and protect himself. No matter what Amy might think, this was exactly the kind of romantic adventure Joel needed to avoid. But there was something in Ollie’s direct gaze that demanded honesty. Joel swallowed, his dry throat clicking. “He’s not really my type.”

  “No?”

  “I prefer…brunettes.”

  Ollie flashed a brilliant grin, leaning toward him over the table. “Well, that’s a coincidence. So do I.”

  A thrill of pleasure raced through him as Ollie’s dancing eyes met his. But the strange tension Joel had sensed between him and Moretti left Joel feeling uneasy—and he couldn’t help wondering what it meant.

  Chapter Eleven

  Halloween Ice-Scream Social, Friday November 1st

  New Milton was still costumed for Halloween, but in the damp fog of All Saints Day the town had taken on the appearance of a bedraggle
d partygoer the morning after the night before. Limp, mist-sodden decorations hung from porches and front doors, half trampled by the hordes of trick-or-treaters who’d been out the night before. Rory and Luis among them.

  Ollie smiled at the memory. It had been a fun night, Rory had loved dressing up and Luis had looked adorable in the little pumpkin costume Ollie had found for three bucks at the thrift store in Commack. They’d both stayed up too late and, despite Ollie’s best efforts, eaten too much candy. But that was what Halloween was all about. Like Dee said, an occasional treat was good for kids.

  Thinking of Dee led his mind back to that date-that-wasn’t-a-date with Joel Morgan and his smile faded. At first, he’d been more than half expecting a call from Joel asking him out, but when Ollie’s simple message thanking him for the coffee had been met only with a curt ‘You’re welcome’ he’d begun to have doubts. Not about Joel’s interest, because that had been unmistakable, but about his interest in acting on it. And, honestly, if Joel was confused about his sexuality, Ollie would rather nothing happened between them. His life was hard enough without taking on somebody else’s neuroses, even if that somebody else was a kind and handsome guy who looked at Ollie with such warmth it made his insides gooey.

  To keep himself from obsessing, Ollie had refocused his thoughts on Luca Moretti. Their weird moment in Dee’s had upset him—he didn’t want to make the guy feel uncomfortable and he didn’t want to feel uncomfortable himself. New Milton wasn’t a big place, so they were bound to run into each other now and then. But it had occurred to him that maybe Luca thought Ollie wanted something from him, like money or a cut of the family business. That was the last thing on Ollie’s mind, but how would Luca know that? He didn’t know Ollie from Adam.

  He’d worried at the problem restlessly over the last couple of weeks and eventually concluded that the only thing to do was talk to Luca again and reassure him on that front. The prospect of another confrontation tied him in knots, but he figured he had to try. Which was why he’d taken the afternoon off and was heading out of New Milton toward the Majestic Hotel.

  His stomach churned, fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel as he drove through the fog. It had rolled in overnight and lingered all day, the foghorn on the distant Huntington Harbor Light sounding eerily every few seconds. Up ahead, vague through the mist, he saw a flare of red lights and tapped his breaks cautiously. He was already crawling along the coastal road, not only because he didn’t like the idea of the cliff so close but because the fog was thickening. He could smell it, dank and heavy with a tang of the ocean that you didn’t get inland. Halloween might have been yesterday, but this was perfect weather for ghosts and ghouls. Behind him, someone flashed their headlights. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a huge SUV sitting on his tail. Asshole. Ollie stubbornly did not speed up. Locals drove these roads like they were on a racetrack, but Ollie took it easy even in good weather. He’d never been a speed demon and since Jules’ death he couldn’t shake the idea that cars were basically death traps on wheels. Anyway, you’d have to be an idiot to drive much over thirty in this fog. An idiot like the guy behind him who, with another flash of headlights and the blare of a horn, overtook.

  Ollie gave him the finger. “Asshole.”

  He kept crawling along, the fog pressing down heavier. Maybe this had been a bad idea. He didn’t even know whether Luca would be home, although he certainly wouldn’t be surfing today. But he could be out, or busy. Ollie should have called first. That had been his mistake last time, just showing up. Ugh, remembering Luca’s shocked dismay still made him cringe. Maybe he should turn around and—

  Taillights blazed scarlet right in front of him, dazzling in the fog. He yelled, slammed his foot on the break—“Jesus Christ!”—and skidded, smashing into the car in front and sending his head ricocheting back against his headrest.

  His car jumped and stalled, spots of light dazzled Ollie’s eyes and pain flared down his neck. All he could hear was the hum of a distant car engine and the rush of blood in his ears. “Fuck.” His voice sounded dry and tremulous. “Fucking shit.”

  Fumbling with the door, he staggered out of the car on shaking legs. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? His head pounded and from the corner of his eye he glimpsed Rory’s car seat in the back of the car. His knees almost gave way.

  Thank God the boys weren’t with him. Thank God.

  The front fender was crunched in badly, entangled with the back of a white sedan. He hurried around to the driver’s door just as it opened. A young woman, about his age, was climbing out. She looked wide-eyed and breathless. “What the hell?”

  “You just stopped!”

  “Uh, yeah? There was a fucking deer in the road?”

  “Jesus.” His heart thundered, guilt washing over him, making him lightheaded. You were driving too close. You weren’t paying attention. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see…”

  “You’d better be fucking insured,” the woman said, pulling out her phone. “Shit.”

  “I’m insured.” Liability only, though. It wouldn’t cover his car. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. His legs shook and he leaned against his car, breathing hard.

  “I’m calling the cops,” the woman said. “We should— Hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’ve gone, like, super pale. Are you hurt?”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’m just...”

  In the distance, two yellow lights floated towards them through the fog. Headlights. Shit, he couldn’t let another car plow into them. Pushing himself upright, Ollie reached into his car and put his emergency flashers on. He wasn’t sure how visible the lights would be through the fog, given how skewed his car was, so he pulled out his phone and stumbled on wobbly legs a few feet back down the road. He fumbled the flashlight on and waved it up and down, hoping it was bright enough to penetrate the murk. After a moment the headlights brightened and cleared as a car emerged from the fog. Ollie waved both arms and the car slowed, coming to a halt a cautious distance back. Ollie jogged towards it. “There’s been an accident. Just up ahead.”

  A young man blinked at him through heavy-framed glasses. “Shit. Is anyone hurt?”

  “No. But can you put your four-way flashers on? The road’s blocked.”

  The guy did and got out of his car. “Do you need a tow truck? My”—his gaze ran over Ollie, quick and assessing—“fiancé’s a mechanic. I could call him? He’s back in New Milton.”

  A tow truck? Damn, he hadn’t even thought. But, yeah, he was going to need to be towed. Crap. He tried to smile, but it probably looked sickly. “That would be great, thanks.”

  While the guy got on his phone, Ollie headed back toward his car. The other driver was crouching down taking photos of the damage. Somehow their fenders were tangled together, her taillight crunched, mirroring the front of Ollie’s car. And now he looked closer he could see that his fender was curved right underneath, digging into his deflated front tire. He’d definitely need a tow; no way was his car drivable. In fact—his heart sank—he doubted it was fixable. Even if he’d had the money, which he didn’t.

  He was fucked.

  Ollie sank into a crouch, overwhelmed suddenly by fear. Now what? He couldn’t get to work without a car. He’d lose his job. He’d lose his apartment. He’d lose the boys. Pressure built in his lungs, too much to suck in a breath. He couldn’t breathe. Tears stung his eyes. And he couldn’t stop shaking, from cold or adrenaline, or pure fucking fury that this lightning bolt had struck from the blue.

  No car, no work, no income. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

  What could he do? What would he tell Rory? Christ. Rory. He couldn’t tell him he’d been in a traffic accident. It would terrify the kid. He pressed a hand to his mouth, feeling the wobble in his lips. His throat closed, heart thudding, blood rushing through his ears.

  Panic. Pure petrifying panic.

  The woman said something. He heard her voice but couldn’t understand the word
s, then her hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t look up. If he moved, drew breath, or tried to speak, his panic would slip out between his fingers and he’d never get it back under control.

  And then there were sirens. Distant blue sirens drawing closer.

  He closed his eyes, focused on the sound. Police. Rescue. Safety. Hold it together. Just hold it to-fucking-gether, Oliver Snow.

  ∞∞∞

  November seemed like an odd time of year to host an ice-cream social, but Joel figured Jackie hadn’t been able to resist the pun. So here they were in the school hall for the Halloween Ice-Scream Social.

  The PTA Committee had done a great job with the decorations—spooky, but nothing to scare a kindergartener—and with the main lights dimmed and a scattering of plastic pumpkins with electric candles, it didn’t look much like the school hall anymore. The kids would love it.

  His job was to serve up the ice-cream while Alyssa and today’s press-ganged moms supervised the syrups, sprinkles, and other spooky goodies the kids could use to turn their scoop of vanilla into something truly terrifying.

  Ollie had offered to help set up, but he hadn’t arrived yet. And it was embarrassing how often Joel’s gaze flitted to the hall doors when they opened, and how disappointed he felt when Ollie didn’t walk through them. Truth was, he’d been anticipating this meeting. Anticipating it a lot more than he should, given that he’d decided not to pursue things between them after their coffee date.

  Non-date.

  Not because he didn’t want to but because he wanted to too damn much. Ollie Snow occupied too many of his thoughts. Joel found himself contemplating the shape of his smile or speculating what it might feel like to touch his curly hair, or that svelte body. Thoughts of sex preoccupied him in a way they hadn’t for years—constantly, and with longing. He wanted to have sex. He wanted to have sex with Ollie Snow.

  And the thought that Ollie might be interested, that their attraction might be mutual, petrified him. He didn’t think he was half as ready for this as Amy believed. So he’d taken the coward’s way out and not followed up on their ‘date’, which left him gazing across the hall towards the door like an anxious puppy awaiting his master’s return. All longing and frustration. Pathetic.