Crossroads

by Sasha Goldie

  He didn't answer for a few minutes. "If it's too personal, you don't have to answer," I said, touching his leg gently to let him know I understood. Lord knew I had plenty of my own secrets to keep under wraps.

  "No, just trying to think when I first knew I wanted to," he replied. He glanced at my hand on his leg and smiled. I snatched it back, not intending to make him think I was making a pass at him or something. Damn it. It was just so easy to be natural and comfortable around him.

  "My parents were addicts," he started. My eyebrows flew up. He'd barely said anything about his parents, but given his home and town, I'd assumed they'd died or something. Not addicts. "So, my grandmother took me in. My parents disappeared when I was seven, and I haven't seen them since. A police officer got me out of the house, and instead of being angry that he’d taken me from my parents, I was thankful for the rescue. I knew the situation I was in."

  I couldn't help but wonder if I had. If they'd been in the same circles I had been, it was entirely possible. "I’m sorry to hear that," I whispered. "That must've been hard on you."

  "My grandmother made it bearable. You'd never meet a better woman. She had a heart of gold." He smiled as we turned up a winding mountain road. "Speaking of drug addicts, I want to check on a house that has some recovering addicts. I keep an eye out here, because of the kids. If anything looks off, I do a wellness check."

  "Do they know you do that?" I asked. Depending on their frame of mind and their recovery, they'd either resent it or appreciate it.

  "No, not specifically. I think they suspect it though because I check on them every few months."

  "So, your grandmother," I prompted him to keep talking.

  "Yeah, so my grandfather had been an officer. He died before I was born. Early heart attack. She talked about him all the time and told me all the stories he'd told her over the years, stuff he'd done on the force. I decided I wanted to be just like him. For years, I pretended my grandmother and grandfather were my real parents, and that the other two didn't exist."

  How fucking sad. His life was so different from my own, but still, he had his demons. If he could talk about his, maybe I'd talk about mine.

  Eventually. I'd just let things go and see how we moved along. Maybe if it felt right, I'd tell him about my parents.

  No sense in telling the cop I was staying with about the time between leaving my parents and going to rehab.

  Besides, if he found out there was a warrant out for my arrest, he'd have to arrest me, and wouldn't that fucking suck.

  11

  Brady

  The ride-along was totally uneventful, except for me pouring out all my secrets and emotions about my parents to Corey. I hadn't told anyone about pretending my grandparents were my real parents. Ever. Corey did something to me that made me want to share everything with him, down to my home.

  Eventually, I needed to do paperwork that I'd been putting off, and it was glaringly obvious he was bored out of his mind, so I dropped him back at my place, making him promise he'd take it easy and relax. He had too much on his mind, too much emotional baggage to sort through. He needed the rest.

  Slogging through the paperwork took all afternoon, but when it was finished, I jumped up from my desk with a huge grin. "I'm out! See you tomorrow."

  Our receptionist waved and grinned. "That good mood you're in have something to do with your houseguest, Brady?" she asked as I passed her desk.

  "It just might, Martha. You never can tell, eh?" Her laughter followed me out of the station and to my truck. I popped into the gas station for more sodas before going home to see how Corey had spent his afternoon.

  "Hello?" I called as I walked through the garage door into the kitchen. "Anybody home?" The house was silent, but the smells, ohhh, the smells.

  Corey burst through the back door just as I made it over to the stove to peek under the lid of the enormous pot. "Get your hands off of that, Mister," he said in a tough-guy voice that made me fall over myself laughing.

  "Mister?" I asked. He was the least intimidating person on the planet, but I removed my hand. No way I'd do something to piss him off. "You got it." I held my hands up, even the one still holding my lunch box.

  Setting down the cooler, I looked around the kitchen. "Did you clean?" I asked incredulously.

  "Maybe." He sniffed and opened the pot to stir what smelled suspiciously like chili. "What of it?"

  "I told you to take it easy. And I've got a cleaning lady that comes every other week, so you don't have to do anything like that. I just try to live neatly and keep the dishes, garbage, and laundry taken care of."

  "Well, as long as I'm here, she doesn’t need to come." He gave me a look and waved the saucy spoon at me. "No sense in it."

  Did he intend to stay long enough for me to have my cleaning lady skip a visit or maybe more? I really hoped so.

  "What can I do to help with dinner?" I asked.

  "Nothing. Go get out of that uniform, it's distracting." He wouldn't look at me, just kept stirring the dinner, one hand on his hip. I looked down at my wrinkled clothes, wondering what he was talking about. "Go on," he said, all bossy and sassy.

  Grinning at him, I bounded up the stairs to change. He'd gotten comfortable enough to tell me what to do, find my cleaning products, clean my house, and find the ingredients to make dinner. That was progress in my book. And if I could come home to dinner and a clean house, he could stay forever, whether or not we formed a relationship.

  Could we? Could we form a relationship with all the baggage we both carried?

  Well, hell, why not?

  After I changed, I returned to the kitchen to see Corey had the chili all dished out on the table, and he'd put ice in a cup for my soda. "I remembered that you're a bit addicted," he said, standing behind the table wringing his hands. He was nervous, I realized with a jolt. He'd wanted the dinner to be good for me.

  I'd actually been planning to come home and ask him to go to the brewery with me for dinner, but this was better by far.

  "How was the rest of your shift?" Corey asked as he sat down at the table. I grabbed a bag of corn chips from the cabinet and some sour cream from the fridge to mix with my chili. Corey took the chips from me and dished everything out.

  "You don't have to wait on me," I said as I watched him scoop out sour cream. "I didn't invite you to stay with me so you'd be my maid or sleep in my bed." The last thing I wanted him to think was that I was another guy just wanting something from him.

  He smiled and kept on, putting a handful of shredded cheese on top of my bowl. "No, I know you didn't. But I don't see you complaining about the dinner or clean house, now are you?"

  I laughed at his sass, but he wasn't done talking. "I bet you wouldn't complain to find me in your bed either, huh?" My laughter died in my throat as my dick twitched at his words.

  "No. I wouldn't complain a bit." To avoid the conversation going any further and possibly being too much for him, I dug into my chili.

  "This is amazing," I said, giving him a litany of moans and groans as the chili flavor exploded in my mouth. "You're a genius."

  "That was your grandmother's recipe," he said with a smile. He was totally triumphant. "I may have tweaked the suggested ingredient sizes just a little."

  "My grandma would've gladly bowed to the chili master if she'd tasted this," I said around a full mouth. It was Corey's turn to laugh at me.

  I stopped talking and scarfed down his delicious food instead. He ate as fast and with as much enthusiasm as I did. Finally, mostly full, I came up for air. "Seriously, Corey, you really do need to work in a kitchen."

  An idea popped into my head like a lightbulb in a cartoon. "You know, if you do decide to stay, Daisy is looking for help at the diner. If she tastes your chili, she'll hire you on the spot."

  He looked up from his bowl, his eyes lit up. "Really?" Chewing thoughtfully, he smiled. "That's good to know. I'm still not sure if I'm staying permanently or not, but I'm going to take you up on your offer o
f a few days so I can get my head on straight."

  A weight lifted off of my shoulders, and I realized how much I'd been worried that he would up and leave. I didn't know if I could stand him disappearing and not knowing what happened to him. I'd grown too fond of him to lose him totally. "I'm glad to hear that. I had been planning to invite you out to dinner, but this is definitely better. I know you don't drink, but Carson has a local band playing tonight and serves a great grocery store cheesecake. Would you like to go to the brewery?"

  He beamed at me. "I would love to. That sounds perfect."

  We finished dinner and I insisted I load the dishwasher. He went to change into his jeans, and I was happy to see he wore a tee advertising one of my favorite bands when he returned. "You like metal?" I asked him, a little shocked. He didn't come across as the type, though I'd learned years ago not to judge. I'd met grandmas at some concerts that were more hardcore than half the headbangers there. I never knew, not really, who would be a metalhead.

  "Intensely," he said. "You?"

  I pointed at his shirt. "One of my favorite bands."

  He grinned. "You ready?"

  Walking into the garage, I walked around and opened his door without thinking if it might bother him. He'd said something about not wanting all the chivalry or something to that effect, but it was... instinctual or something for me to do it. Even though I'd never had anyone live in that house with me, or had a real long-term relationship, therefore had no practice at opening doors to make it second-nature, I did it without thought. Maybe I just wanted to take care of the vulnerable man. It was in my nature to protect and serve. Maybe that was all it was. I'd probably do the same if I'd taken in a vulnerable woman and there was absolutely no sexual attraction there.

  The drive to the brewery was nearly painful for me. I wanted to reach over and take Corey's hand so badly I had to white-knuckle the steering wheel. It didn't help that he kept his hand on the seat between us as if inviting me to grab it.

  He was my friend, not my date, and holding hands was something friends didn't do. Would I have reached over and grabbed Carson's hand? No, I would not have. I gritted my teeth and focused on the road and not on the smell that was Corey. Like spice and heat. Once we'd left the smells coming from the chili pot, his own scent had invaded the truck and my senses. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was considering the same things I was. He’d made some teasing comments at dinner, but weren’t all jokes said with a root of truth? He was coming off of an intense relationship, but the sexual energy I felt couldn’t be one-sided. I couldn’t initiate it, not after what he’d been through. That would be the dickest move ever. Granny didn’t raise me to act like a dick.

  We found a table toward the back of the crowd. Carson had built a makeshift stage in the field beside the brewery.

  "What is this place?" Corey asked as we sat at the table. He seemed so relaxed. Perhaps the large crowd gave him a feeling of anonymity.

  "It was once a gold mine, a very long time ago. They closed it down before I was born, and a couple of years back, Carson bought it and turned it into the brewery."

  "That's freaking genius," Corey whispered. I didn't hear him over the sound of the band warming up, but his lips weren't hard to read. The hard part was looking away from the lips I desperately wanted to lean over and claim.

  "I'm going to go get our cheesecake and some of his tea before they get started," I yelled in his ear.

  The brewery muffled most of the sounds of the band, the interior dark and relatively quiet after the cacophony of the outdoors. Carson stood behind the bar, polishing a glass while his bartender made drinks.

  "Hey," he said when he saw me come in. "You made it."

  "Yeah, Corey seemed to like the thought of getting out for the evening. Can we try that tea and some cheesecake?"

  "Absolutely," he said, grabbing plates and cups to dish out my order himself. I walked around the counter and pressed the buttons on the register to ring up the sale. I'd helped him run the register many times over the past couple of years when the amount of business had surprised him. "Brady, stop. After all the times you've worked here for free, you don't have to pay for cheesecake and tea." Carson tried to juggle the plates and grab the twenty out of my hand, but I crammed it into the register, slamming the drawer shut.

  "There, it's in the register, you can't take it back." Grinning, I turned toward him and took the plates to set on the counter so he could make the tea.

  "Just a minute, it's almost done brewing. I'd just run out before you walked in."

  He'd bought a fancy new tea maker so he could push the tea on all his non-alcoholic customers. "This shit is a gold mine, Brady, right in the middle of the gold mine." He nodded toward the tea maker. "A two-dollar glass of this stuff has about a twelve-cent cost. If I sell all of this, you know what kind of profit that is?" He rocked up onto his tiptoes. "It's a good profit, is what it is."

  I laughed at him as he added the sugar and his 'secret ingredient,' which was a bit of orange juice and sliced oranges. As if I hadn't seen him get the OJ carton out of his mini-fridge under the counter.

  "So, how's it going with Corey?" he asked. "I really liked him when I talked to him at the barbeque."

  "It's kind of great, actually. He's out there watching the band." I checked my watch. I'd been inside for several minutes. "I should get back to him."

  Carson put his hand on my arm as I filled the glasses with ice. "Brady, just be careful. Corey is great, but you have a tendency to help people, even if it puts you out or exhausts you, or isn't in your best interests."

  "What are you trying to say?" I asked. I knew I had a tendency to jump in and try to help, but that wasn't a bad trait, was it?

  "Just be careful. Be careful that you don't mistake feelings of love for feelings of wanting to save this hot guy that obviously needs a white knight."

  For a moment, I was outraged that he'd say I couldn't decipher my own feelings, but then I remembered that Carson had been there for me through my grandmother's death and was my best friend. I took a deep breath before replying. "Okay. I'll keep it in mind."

  He nodded. "Come on, I'll follow you out there with the glasses."

  The band was in full swing, so he didn't stay to talk, just waved at Corey and set the tea on the table. Corey had been cheerful and relaxed when I'd gone to get our food, but as soon as Carson and I walked up to the table he seemed to stiffen and grow more and more anxious as the band played and people walked around us.

  "Are you okay?" I tried to shout at him, but the band was way too loud. I pointed toward the bar, wanting to go inside and talk to him. He nodded and got up, grabbing the empty plates.

  I followed with our glasses.

  "I need to use the restroom," he said when we got inside, so I pointed him in the right direction.

  What had happened to my new friend to make his mood shift so dramatically?

  12

  Corey

  The shit was getting way too deep. Brady's buddy Carson waved and smiled at me like he'd known me for years. Other people had waved at me while Brady was inside, too. People I would've sworn I'd never met before, but they were being kind to me and showing me I was welcome among them.

  I mean, who did that? What sort of town was I in?

  Eating the cheesecake, drinking the tea—which was fucking fabulous—and eyeing Brady out of the corner of my eye, it was all too much. It was nothing and everything, and my emotions began to run rampant.

  Brady wanted to go in the bar, so I followed him in, then went straight for the bathroom. I didn't need to pee, but I did need to breathe. I was so attracted to Brady it nearly hurt, and I wanted to make this my life. All of it. The friends, the home. Maybe a job. He'd even said there was a diner in town that would probably hire me. It was just laid out perfectly, insert one Corey and life would be complete. How was I supposed to process that?

  Maybe it really was time to move on. I washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked sca
red but better than I had in a while. The circles under my eyes weren't so prominent since I'd gotten several nights of good sleep. And I didn't look anxious, even to myself. Not like I had with John when I was always scared to see what he'd do next or how bad it would get.

  But I had no money. The job at the diner could provide me with some extra cash flow so I could get a bus ticket out of town. Maybe a few days there would set me up so I could move on, move out of Brady's life and the heavy feelings it brought with it.

  "Are you okay?" The bathroom door cracked, and Brady's voice came through. "Can I come in?"

  "Of course." I didn't turn, instead looking at him in the mirror. It was a miracle there was nobody else in there.

  "What's wrong?" he asked once fully in the room. His face was a mask of concern. He truly cared about me. He looked around in surprise. “I didn’t know they remodeled. This is gorgeous. So clean,” he muttered before looking back at me. “Sorry, it surprised me.”

  Giving him a bemused look, I tried to be honest. "I'm having a hard time deciding how long I want to stay here. And it's bothering me. I felt a little anxious out there."

  "Corey," he said, stepping forward. "I really want you to stay. I don't want to pressure you or make you feel like I want anything from you, but I'm really attracted to you, and I know you are to me. I think that if we go slow, we can build our friendship and see if something else comes from that. No pressure, no rush, but I just would really like to see where it goes. So, if that influences your decision any, let it influence you to stay. I'm happy having you near me, knowing I'll be coming home to you."

  I let him finish, my dick hardening with every kind, considerate, and caring word that fell from his lips.

  "But if you want to leave, I can drive you into Portland on my next day off, or Bend, if you want to catch a bus from there. I'll do whatever you need to help you start over. You're incredible, Corey. Probably the strongest man I've ever met. I want to help you, no strings attached."