Chasing Midnight

by Sandra Damien

  Chasing Midnight

  Sandra Damien

  Published by Sandra Damien Books

  Chasing Midnight © 2018 Sandra Damien

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  This is a work of fiction. Characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  All rights reserved worldwide. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared, or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Help support authors by purchasing only authorized copies.

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  Cover Design: © 2018 Cate Ashwood

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  Content Warning: This work is classified as a gay romance. It contains graphic language and sexual content between two adult men. Not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  Traveling is the worst idea at the best of times. I’m all for visiting new places, don’t get me wrong. But it always seems to be more trouble than it’s worth, what with the frantic packing (where you still inevitably forget something), spending half your time lost and asking for directions, and the coming home way more exhausted than when you’d left. Maximum relaxation, minimum fuss—that’s the definition of vacation.

  Traveling during the holidays? A form of fresh hell no man should have to endure.

  And yet somehow I found myself making the four-and-a-half-hour trek to Chicago in the old Taurus I’d had since high school, traveling at a crawl on ice-slick highways despite my brother’s assurances that traffic was scarce at this time of the year, toward a destination I had zero interest in visiting. During a blizzard. Because of course the clouds would open up and start dumping thick snow an hour into my journey when it was too late and too treacherous to turn around.

  I’m an idiot. A hot mess of epic proportions, if I do say so myself, but overwhelmingly, undeterringly idiotic overall.

  It’d been ten years since my brother, Cole, had left home—home being Derring, Iowa, a small town on the Mississippi River that straddled the Wisconsin border. If you didn’t know where it was—and nobody knew where it was—you’d miss it coming over the bridge into Iowa. There’s a saying in our town that Derring is easy to miss, except when you leave it. It wasn’t the first time I’d visited Cole since he’d moved out, but I could definitely count on one hand the number of trips I’d made it out here. In the beginning he’d come back to Derring a few times a year, but since he’d settled down with his long-term girlfriend, now fiancée, those visits had dropped down to once, maybe twice a year. He’d missed coming home at Christmas—needless to say, Mom flipped her shit, so when Cole invited me to come hang out for a few days over New Year’s, I jumped.

  But as I made my way across Illinois and toward the outer suburbs of Chicago, my shoulders tightened with anxiety, my fingers gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. Big cities just weren’t my jam. All the traffic, the people, the imposing buildings. I was well out of my comfort zone, and I was having major regrets the closer I got to Cole’s place.

  I loved my little hometown. It was one of those towns where everybody knew everybody, and while my brother had found it stifling, I found comfort in it. I loved living in a place where you could keep your front door unlocked without fear, where the town came together to celebrate every damn little thing from the major holidays to Cindy Swanson’s first lost tooth. It had community. It had heart. It was home.

  Cole had recently moved from a downtown Chicago condo to the affluent Oak Brook village about an hour outside of the city. When the GPS said I was close, I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d somehow made it without skidding off the road to my untimely demise. I brought up his number on the hands-free, and he picked up before the second ring.

  “Tell me how you managed to convince me to drive across two states in the dead of winter to come visit your sorry ass? On New Year’s Eve, no less. I should be in bed catching up on Outlander like any sane human being—basically doing anything except this right now.”

  Cole’s low chuckle echoed around the car’s interior. “Quit whining and just get here already. How far away are you?”

  I peered out through the sheets of heavy snow into the murky darkness studded with dots of twinkle lights wrapped around porch railings. “I think I’m lost. I should just turn around.”

  “Fuck off. I can hear your piece-of-shit car from here. Last house on the right.” He hung up before I could snap back.

  I slowed as I approached the end of the street and the picture-perfect Colonial-style house still decked out in Christmas decorations, including a blow-up Santa, which was pitched over sadly into the bushes. I still couldn’t reconcile the fact that my once partying playboy of an older brother had finally found someone to tame his heart and whip him into domestic submission. A house in the burbs? Next year he’d probably be telling me he was moving back to Iowa.

  Cole was standing on the porch when I pulled into the driveway, his usual asshole smirk in place as he watched me get out of the car and trek up to the porch.

  I scowled. “You gonna help me with my stuff or what?”

  He turned back to the door and swung it open, at least extending enough courtesy to step aside so I could enter before him. “The only thing you have in there is an excuse to flee as soon as possible.”

  That’s the thing about brothers. They know you too well.

  “Touché.” I stomped the snow off my boots and dropped my bag inside the doorway. It was a relief to stretch my legs after the long and treacherous drive. The house was warm and welcoming, the smell of something garlicky and delicious enticing me in.

  “It’s good to see you, bro.” Cole pulled me in for a hug and slapped my back twice before releasing me. “Maria sends her apologies. She had a last-minute work thing out of town again and got stranded in Denver. They’ve grounded all outbound flights. So you know what that means.”

  “No-pants dinner?”

  “No-pants dinner.” He fingergunned. “Good drive, despite your complaining?”

  “Who’s complaining?” I said, peeling off my outer layers. “I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love battling their way on icy roads in the middle of a damn blizzard instead of staying in the warmth of their bed for a Netflix marathon. There’s just something about imminent death that warms the heart and feeds the soul, you know?”

  “You’re an asshole. Beer? Kitchen’s that way.” He took my snow-flecked coat from me and gestured with his chin toward the back of the house.

  It was roomier than I imagined it would be, and it definitely had Maria’s mark on it. The entryway opened into the main living area, where a beige sectional with deep-set seats surrounded a low-profile coffee table made of reclaimed wood. Mounds of cushions were nestled in the corners of the couch, looking cozy and invi
ting. Along the walls were black-and-white photos of Maria and Cole throughout the five years of their relationship; there was so much love in their eyes that it was kinda gagworthy—even though I was simultaneously stewing in envy.

  A huge farmhouse table was set off to the side, and beyond it was the kitchen, open and airy with exposed shelves and backlit cabinetry, and top-of-the-line appliances that gleamed under the industrial-style pendant lights. It was basically my Barbie dream home.

  “You got a nice place here. Very grown-up. Very unlike you,” I said as I slid onto a barstool at his kitchen island, where a spread of cheese, crackers, and deli meats were laid out—another one of Maria’s influences, I’d bet. Cole would have opened a can of Pringles and called it good. “Maria definitely picked the wrong brother.”

  “She picked the better-looking brother. What can I say? She’s shallow as hell.” He went to the fridge and pulled out a couple of bottles of beer. “You gonna change your mind about moving out here? I could get my Realtor to start scouting for you.”

  I scoffed around a mouthful of cheese and prosciutto. “Pass. If I wanted to spend upwards of a million dollars on a property, it wouldn’t be a rancher on the outskirts of a city that’s like a hot blonde with body odor.”

  “Give me a break. It’s a hell of an upgrade from living with Mom and Dad.”

  “Debatable.” I picked up an olive and accepted the beer Cole slid over to me. “And it’s not so bad. I don’t have to do laundry, so that’s a win.”

  “That’s fucking gross, man.”

  I shrugged. “She loves it. Gives her a sense of purpose.”

  “God, no wonder you’re still single.” He shoved a handful of shelled pistachios in his mouth and crunched loudly.

  “It’s honestly a wonder you’re not.”

  He ignored the jab. “Why don’t you stay a few weeks? Get a feel for the city? You might change your mind. Think about how awesome it’d be if you moved here. You’d get to see me all the time.” He batted his eyelashes at me, and I rolled my eyes.

  “I stand by my argument.”

  “So it’s Iowa for life, then?”

  “Yep.” I popped the p.

  Cole frowned. “It’s holding you back, dude. There’s so much more out here—hell, in any bigger city. Never mind the job opportunities, the restaurants. What about guys?”

  “There’s guys in Derring,” I said, a little defensively.

  “What guys? Everyone of dating age left the damn town. Like you should be doing.”

  “There’s guys,” I repeated, stuffing three olives into my cheek.

  “And I bet you’ve gone through most of the good ones and then some.”

  He was two for two at this point. “So what? I’m comfortable.”

  “Comfortable’s boring, Landon. You’re better than comfortable.”

  “And what do you call this?” I swept my arm around at the cozy surroundings of his kitchen and living areas.

  He pinched his lips together, before he retorted, “Whatever. I still got out of Derring. Anyway, it’s you we’re talking about here. You can’t be happy doing the single thing forever.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Lies. “Anyway, whatever. I don’t wanna talk about my love life—”

  “Lack of,” he coughed, and I threw a cracker at him.

  “I’m doing fine in that department, believe me.”

  Which wasn’t exactly true. I’d lived the “full college experience,” but by the time I got to grad school, serial dating had become sorta old and tiring. Or maybe it was me who was becoming old and tiring. And since I’d moved back home in the summer after graduation, there’d been absolutely no interest on my part to date anyone—never mind that Cole was right and I’d dated most of the eligible gay population of Derring already.

  “So Chase is having a party at his place for New Year’s,” said Cole, rolling his beer bottle between his hands. “I gotta drop a patio heater off for him, but he’s extended the invite to us both if you wanna go. Thought maybe it’d give you a chance to see the city lights, considering everything shuts at 6:00 p.m. back home.”

  My palms started sweating, and I wiped them on my jeans. “Chase is in town?”

  “Yeah, he got back last week. Some big tech conference on the West Coast.”

  I shook my head. “Can’t believe he’s kept you around. Thought he would have ditched your ass years ago since he got all rich and important.”

  “Chase isn’t that kinda guy, and you know it.”

  I grunted. Yeah, I knew it. And that’s what sucked. Chase was what I would classify as The Perfect Guy, with his stupid perfect smile, and perfect dark eyes, and perfect body that only seemed to get more perfect over the years if my Facebook stalking had shown me anything. Cole and Chase had been best friends since they were freshmen in high school, and from the moment he’d stepped into our kitchen when I was stuffing my nine-year-old face with cookies and milk, I was infatuated. Any questioning about my sexuality at that point had been kicked into a hard gay yep as soon as I’d locked eyes with Chase Porter.

  I’d pretty much had a hard-on for him ever since.

  Of course, I could never say anything to my brother. Being gay was all fine and dandy; being hot for his most-definitely-straight best friend was a whole other thing I did not want to get into.

  So I’d kept my crush to myself, screwed it up into the tiniest little ball and swallowed it. He hadn’t been back to Derring in ten years, and I’d managed to avoid him—and any lingering feelings I did not want to face up to anytime soon. It was a good arrangement. I liked how my little Chase-less life was going. It was easy. Predictable.

  Without any chance of running into Chase, who I’d done my best to forget.

  “So? You up for a party later? It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t know, man. I’m kinda beat.” I gnawed on my lip, my gut churning. “Who all’s going to be there?”

  “Bunch of his city friends, people he knows in the industry—”

  “Entreprenipsters,” I groaned. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Come on,” Cole said, slinging his arm around my shoulders and mussing my hair like he knew I hated. “You drove all this way to the city. Let’s go party like we used to.”

  “Like you used to,” I grumbled. The last thing I felt like doing was “partying”—especially not on Chase’s turf, with Chase’s crowd. But the temptation of seeing Chase was almost impossible to resist. I was nothing if not a masochist.

  “Okay, fine. But don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

  Cole clapped once and stood. “It’s gonna be great. After tonight you’ll be packing your bags and moving to the city. I guarantee it.”

  2

  I always felt like such a tourist when I visited a big city, even though most of them were sort of the same in their sameness—high-rise apartment buildings nestled in amongst identical steel and glass skyscrapers, blurring the lines between work and home life. They had a way of making me feel small and insignificant, something I wasn’t accustomed to growing up in a small town. I had a sudden pang of homesickness, even though I’d only just arrived in the city a few hours ago.

  “Does the big hands/big feet analogy apply to big buildings?” I wondered aloud, craning my neck back to stare up at the glass behemoth before me. I blew into my cupped hands, trying to warm them up. Chicago was bitingly cold in the winter, a shrill down-to-your-bones chill that made Iowa seem downright toasty in comparison.

  Cole grunted, barely sparing me a glance as his thumbs flew over the screen of his cell phone.

  “I never figured Chase to be the penthouse kinda guy. He was always so…” Athletic. Muscled. Incredibly sexy. “Down-to-earth.”

  “He’s still the same old Chase. Just in better clothes and fancier digs,” Cole said, bringing his phone to his ear.

  “What is he trying to prove anyway? He’s a Derring boy,” I scoffed, as if that meant we were doomed to farmhouses and clapboard rancher
s for the rest of eternity. I never took myself for someone who’d get jealous over money, but even I was pissing myself off with my whining.

  “Expansive city views? I don’t know, why don’t you ask him.” Cole gave me a weird look. “Hey, we’re here. You coming down?”

  I heard a murmur from Cole’s phone, and then he hung up. At that point my heart started a frantic gallop, like it was going to beat right through my chest, and my throat closed up. I tried to tell Cole that I wasn’t feeling well and that I’d catch a ride back to his place, but all that came out was a pathetic wheeze.

  “Are you going to make me regret bringing you here?” Cole said, mock punching me in the shoulder. “There’s still time to head back to the house, you know. You don’t have to be here if you’d rather just chill at home.”

  He’d given me the out, but guilt gnawed at me. I’d come to hang out with Cole; I couldn’t just ditch him. “It’s fine,” I sighed, even though we both knew it was a lie. “Are you sure he wants me here, though?”

  “Who, Chase? Of course he would. Why wouldn’t he?”

  Oh, nothing. Maybe it was because before he’d left for college, I’d stupidly blurted out “don’t go” in a last-ditch effort to make him stay. I still remember the look of horror on his face as this baby-faced fourteen-year-old stood at the door to the living room, where Chase sat playing video games while Cole was in the bathroom. The words I love you had been on the tip of my tongue, but I lost my nerve at the last minute and instead barked out my final plea before scurrying away to my room and blasting My Chemical Romance at full volume. I was sure he’d been able to see my thoughts written all over my face, and I’d steadfastly avoided even mentioning him for the last ten years as a result.