Stay (Working Out The Kinks Book 1)

by K. M. Neuhold

  By the time my shift wraps up, and I’m able to hand everything over to the overnight staff, I find myself reluctant to head home right away. In ten years together, I’ve never hesitated to rush home to Lars at the end of the day. But, with this secret—this lie—hanging in the air between us like a physical presence, I don’t want to face him. I don’t want him to look at me and know I’m lying like he did yesterday.

  Instead, I drive around aimlessly. I find myself glancing at drivers in the cars next to me at every stoplight, wondering what kinks they might be into, trying to gauge just how much of a freak I am. I’m happy with Lars, our sex life has never left me unsatisfied. So, why am I suddenly so fucking fixated on this puppy stuff? Why can’t I just be happy with what I already have and leave it at that?

  For the millionth time in the past two days, I wonder what’s wrong with me.

  At an intersection a few miles from my house, I look to my left and notice a shop I’ve seen a hundred times but never given more than a passing thought to—Kink Closet. I wonder what kind of things they sell. I wonder if there are puppy hoods and tails for sale so close to home, and I never even realized it. I wonder if I could work up the courage to go in and find out.

  A loud honk behind me forces my attention back to the road. The stoplight is green now, so I press down on the accelerator and signal to change lanes once I’m through the intersection. Glancing at the shop one last time in my rearview mirror, I make the turn to head home for the night.

  Lars

  I glance at the time when I finally hear the front door open. It’s two hours later than Jonah usually gets home, and I was starting to worry a little when my messages were going unanswered. I assumed he was in an emergency, of course, but usually he’s able to find a few seconds to text that he’s going to be late.

  There are twin thuds as Jonah kicks his shoes off against the wall by the door. I get off the couch and head to the kitchen to check how the stew I put in the crockpot this morning fared on warm for the past two hours. Then, I go into the hallway to find Jonah sagging against the wall, looking entirely exhausted.

  “Busy day?”

  He nods and yawns widely. “So, fucking busy.”

  “Go sit down, I’ll bring you dinner.”

  “But the couch is too far,” he whines, slowly sliding down the wall toward the floor.

  “Don’t you dare make me have to pick you up off the floor,” I warn in that low deep voice that always makes Jonah listen…and usually swoon a little.

  “Mean,” he grumbles.

  “Keep it up and I’ll have the whole pan of brownies I made for dessert to myself.”

  “Eep.” That’s all the threat he needs to get up off the floor and hurry from the hall to the living room before I can follow through.

  I watch with satisfaction warming my chest. I’m not sure why it feels so good when Jonah listens to me, maybe it’s because I’m taking care of him. He may be physically larger than I am, but he’s always needed a caretaker, and it’s one of my greatest pleasures to be that for him.

  I return to the kitchen to scoop two bowls of stew, making sure to get plenty of vegetables in Jonah’s portion. When I hadn’t heard from him in two hours, I considered eating dinner to stop the growling of my stomach, but I’m glad I waited because I always prefer eating together when we can.

  I find Jonah on the couch where I sent him and hand him his bowl.

  “Thank you,” he says, puckering his lips for a kiss, which I gladly give before plopping down beside him and digging into my meal hungrily.

  After we eat, we spend an hour cuddling and watching Netflix, until I notice Jonah’s eyelids starting to droop.

  “Come on, time for bed.”

  “I’m not tired,” he lies, his voice slurred and sleepy.

  I roll my eyes at him. “Okay, well, I’m tired, so come lay down with me.”

  He grumbles but lets me haul him off the couch.

  I notice he’s quiet as we brush our teeth and get ready for bed. Normally, he’s a little bouncy, kind of silly, finding ways to either seduce me or push my buttons. But tonight he just quietly goes about his routine and shuffles off to the bedroom without a word.

  Did I do something to piss him off? I do a mental rundown of the last twenty-four hours and come up blank.

  Finishing up my own nighttime grooming, I follow him to the bedroom and climb into bed.

  “Is everything okay? You’re quiet tonight.”

  “Hm?” he looks at me over his shoulder, now laying on his side, facing away from me. “Yeah, just tired.”

  “Okay.” I get comfortable behind him and click off the lamp on my side of the bed.

  I scoot close to spoon against him and notice tension is radiating off Jonah, obvious by the set of his shoulders and the tight coil of his muscles. There’s one way I know to soothe him when he gets like this.

  “Deep breath,” I instruct, and he obeys, pulling in a long, deep breath and counting to ten before letting it out just as slowly.

  I put my index finger against the middle of his bare back, and some of his rigidity eases. Some nights I draw pictures with my finger on his back, stick figure houses and crude rocket ships. If I’m feeling particularly saucy, maybe some more anatomical sketches as well. Other nights I draw letters, sometimes in random order, sometimes writing words or sentences. I must’ve written out multiple book’s worth at this point about our future, our past, our journey. My favorite is about our first kiss and the months of frustration and fear leading up to it.

  “I love this one,” Jonah mumbles in a sleep drunk sort of way.

  “Which one is that?”

  “The one where you pulled your head out of your ass and noticed me as more than a friend.”

  “You have that all wrong, JJ. I pined for you for years before you noticed me,” I argue. “And I didn’t know you were reading what I’ve been writing all these years; I figured it put you right to sleep.”

  “Mm,” he makes a sleepy noise. “Not sleep exactly, but this really peaceful, floaty place that’s just as good.”

  I trace a new sentence on his back to test his reading skills.

  “I love you too,” Jonah responds to the message I wrote on his back.

  I kiss his bare shoulder.

  “Hush now, you’re supposed to be relaxing,” I say sternly, and then I return to writing out the story of how we got together against his skin as his breathing slows and his muscles finally relax fully.

  Chapter 7

  Jonah

  Familiar anxiety flutters in my chest as I go through my morning routine of brushing my teeth—with my own toothbrush, of course—and shaving, checking the time and traffic report at least three times during the process.

  When Lars comes into the bathroom to join me at the sink, I smile, scooting aside to make room for him, unable to resist playfully pinching his ass when he bends over to wash his face.

  “Hey,” he complains, swatting me away with a laugh.

  “It’s not my fault your ass is so perky and pinchable,” I defend, reaching under the running water and flicking some at him, earning another yelp.

  “I take it you slept well last night if you’re up for being such a pain in the ass this morning,” Lars says dryly, but the twinkle in his eye tells me he’s happy to see I’m less quiet this morning than I was last night. The mention of my mood—and the reason for it—sobers me almost instantly, and I reach for a towel to dry my hand before checking the time again.

  “I’d better hurry up and get dressed.”

  “You have time for breakfast, don’t you?” He frowns with concern.

  “There’s a little bit of a traffic backup, so it’ll be better if I leave early and get something out of the vending machine when I get there.”

  Lars’ frown deepens. “You’re going to survive the whole day on a Pop-Tart?”

  “I’ll be fine. I promise to eat a healthy dinner.”

  “It’s not just about healthy, JJ,�
� he argues. “You’re a doctor, even if you are only qualified to treat one species,” he winks. “You know very well that the calories and nutrients in a Pop-Tart aren’t going to fuel you all day.”

  I heave a put-upon sigh, secretly loving how insistent Lars always is about taking care of me.

  “How about if I take some toast and fruit with me to eat in the car?” I negotiate.

  “That’s a little better, but I want you to try to eat something for lunch too.”

  “I’ll try,” I promise, kissing Lars’ temple and giving his ass one more quick pinch before hurrying to the bedroom to get dressed.

  I grumble with irritation as I dig through my top drawer, trying to find a pair of matching scrubs, images of endless traffic jams dancing through my mind. By the time I find what I want, get dressed, and assemble the to-go breakfast I promised, it’s ten minutes later than I wanted, and my anxiety about being late is ramping up.

  “Don’t forget, we’re hosting game night tonight, so pick up some drinks on your way home,” Lars calls as I’m putting on my shoes.

  “Will do. I love you,” I shout back before rushing out the door.

  Luckily, I didn’t have time this morning to obsess about any of the puppy stuff, but once I’m in the car, there’s little else to occupy my mind. But, instead of dealing with it, I opt to turn up Public Radio ridiculously loud and put my mental energy toward hearing about a crisis in the Middle East rather than thinking about my own shit.

  I nibble at my breakfast as I drive, and it turns out the traffic doesn’t amount to much of anything, so I get to the hospital forty-five minutes early. I grumble a little at my stupid anxiety for robbing me of sitting down to breakfast with Lars in favor of rushing out the door. Then, I pull out my phone to browse through Instagram while I finish eating my fruit and toast in my car.

  When I’m finished eating, it’s still early, but I’d rather go in and get the day started then sit in my car and deal with my own thoughts for another half an hour. I get out with a sigh, shaking off any and all interloping thoughts and head inside to do what I do best.

  Lars

  I whistle as I tidy the house and get snacks together for game night. The monthly game night we do with our friends is always one of my favorite nights, but doubly so tonight. There’s been a strange tension about Jonah this week, and I’m hoping relaxing with Addie and Seb, having some drinks, and playing stupid games will help get him out of whatever funk he’s in.

  The sound of the front door opening brings a smile to my face. Even when I was young, there was nothing I wanted more than a partner I could share a home and a life with. It was Jonah I wanted, even before I realized it. Sometimes I think back and lament the years we spent not seeing each other, but I dated enough users and assholes in that time to fully appreciate what we have now.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he greets me with a kiss on the cheek, setting two bottles of wine on the counter.

  “That going to be enough for this group?”

  “I have two more in my car, but I figured I’ll leave them there for now unless we really need them. We don’t need those two getting hammered and deciding to make a music video to put on YouTube again.”

  “Good point,” I agree. “The slow motion twerking to “Rocket Man” still haunts my nightmares.” I shudder theatrically at the image, and Jonah chuckles in agreement.

  I finish the fruit and cheese tray I was assembling and turn around to give my man a proper greeting, looping my arms around his neck and tugging him down to meet my lips.

  “I. Missed. You. Today,” I tell him between kisses, loving the feeling of his lips smiling against mine. Stooping down, he grabs me under the ass and hoists me up. “Watch out for the snacks,” I say as he moves to set me on the counter.

  Once he manages to get me situated without knocking anything over, we get back to more important things. Jonah’s tongue sweeps into my mouth, his hands snaking under my shirt and ghosting along my skin. I tighten my grip around his neck and kiss him deeper, wanting nothing more than to somehow fuse together so we never have to stop kissing. Sure, eventually we’d die of starvation, but it’d be totally worth it.

  “Should we tell them we’re here?” Addie stage whispers.

  “Why would we do a stupid thing like that? Things are just about to get interesting,” Seb argues, and I laugh into Jonah’s mouth.

  “You two know the hide-a-key isn’t there so you can bust in and cock block us, right?” I point out when I manage to pull back from the kiss.

  I look over Jonah’s shoulder to find the two of them standing in the doorway to the kitchen with fascinated expressions like we’re their favorite TV show.

  “It’s game night; were we supposed to stand on the porch until you got each other off next to our cheese tray?” Addie asks with an arched eyebrow.

  “Preferably, yes,” Jonah responds, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at her.

  “Are you guys going to get naked, or can I open that bottle of wine?” Seb asks, not waiting for a response before grabbing the bottle and then shoving my knee aside so he can open the drawer where we keep the corkscrew.

  Giving Jonah one last kiss, I shove at his chest to get him to back up and then slide off the counter.

  “You didn’t get a chance to change out of your work clothes, JJ,” I point out. “Why don’t you go take a quick shower and get changed while I put the bruschetta into the oven and these two chuckleheads kill a bottle of wine.”

  Addie and Seb don’t even blink at me giving Jonah instructions or the way he hurries to carry them out. They’ve been around us long enough to know it’s how we operate. If either of them have any negative feelings about it, neither of us have heard a word about it, and that suits me just fine.

  The three of us make small talk while I set the oven timer, accept a glass of wine from Seb, and then head into the living room with the cheese tray.

  “What ever happened to that one guy you were dating a few months ago?” Addie asks Seb. “The really hot one with all the tattoos?”

  “Erik? I had to break up with him. He literally refused to sing along whenever I put on “Bohemian Rhapsody” in the car. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.”

  “Did you ever think that the reason you’re single is that your standards are too high?” I ask, taking a sip of wine.

  “So I should just settle?” Seb challenges. “Did you settle with Jonah?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Exactly. I’ll either have the perfect man for me, or I’ll warm my bed with perfect for right now men, but I won’t settle.”

  “Fair enough.”

  When Jonah returns from his shower, we all argue over what to play before deciding on Killer Bunnies, refreshing our wine, and settling in for a night of fun with our best friends.

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Addie says to Jonah somewhere around her fourth glass of wine.

  “Feeling better?” I ask, looking at him with concern and noticing a blush on his cheeks and a distinct avoidance of eye contact.

  “I told you, I wasn’t sleeping well. I’m fine,” he explains. “Whose turn is it?”

  “Yours,” I tell him, still studying him. I don’t think he was lying about the not sleeping part. I’d noticed how tired he was early in the week, but the twitchy way he’s acting and the quick change of subject are definite tells that he’s not being honest about something.

  It sits heavy on my mind the rest of the night. Maybe it’s something he’s not telling Addie, but surely he’d tell me if I ask right?

  With all four bottles of wine eventually finished off, Seb and Addie end up staying the night sharing the guest bed. Ten rounds of rock, paper, scissors over who would sleep on the couch ended in a tie, and I told them to knock it off and go to bed, to which Seb whispered something to Addie that included the word Daddy and a pointed look in my direction.

  Jonah stumbles a little on the way to our bedroom, letting me know he had too muc
h to drink as well. When we reach the bedroom, he struggles to get his pants undone, so I bat his hands away and do it for him, carefully unzipping them and then lowering them, along with his underwear.

  “Step out,” I instruct, kneeling at his feet to get his pants off without letting him trip over himself, his half hard cock swaying near my face.

  “Mmm,” he hums, running his hands through my hair, his hazy, drunk eyes fixed on me.

  “Hey, JJ?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why haven’t you been sleeping well this week?”

  As soon as the words are out, his warm, happy expression shutters, and he frowns at me. I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, see him trying to come up with an answer. My stomach lurches with the realization that he’s planning on lying to me, again. Is this related to the porn thing earlier in the week or has he decided, after all these years, to make a habit out of lying to me?

  “Come on, JJ, step out of your pants,” I repeat soberly when I realize he’s not going to answer. This time he does as I say with my help. By the time I stand up, he’s tugging his shirt off and tossing it in the pile of dirty clothes, and I follow suit, the two of us climbing into bed silently.

  For the first time in our lives, there’s something Jonah isn’t telling me. The thought makes me feel sick to my stomach as I lay beside him in the dark, wanting desperately to pull him close and pretend like everything is fine, but unable to make myself do it.

  Chapter 8

  Jonah

  I pace outside Kinky Closet, trying to work up my nerve to go in. For the past two weeks, I’ve driven past the shop every night on my way home from work. A few days, I’ve even idled in the parking lot for an undetermined amount of time, trying to work up the courage to go inside. And I can tell Lars is starting to wonder why I’ve been late getting home so often recently.