Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  As intense as the emotions were, I had to believe that Kent’s sexual experiences were new to him. “He was intimately involved with someone here,” I told the sheriff. “The relationship was brand new and thrilling to him.” I closed my eyes and embraced the residual psychic echoes Kent left behind. My heart raced with the excitement that he had felt. “The man was older and more experienced. Their relationship was a secret, which added to the thrill for him.” I kept my eyes closed while I waited to see if Kent gave me more information from that item but there was nothing else.

  “You’re certain he was involved with another man?” Beau asked once I set the box on the table next to the clothes.

  “Yes, an older man, but it feels like maybe a ten to twelve-year age difference.”

  “Most likely one of the other ranch hands and not the ranch owner then,” Beau said, but it felt more like he was thinking out loud rather than speaking to me.

  “That is the impression I got.” A wallet was the final item in the bag and the biggest indicator that Kent left in a hurry or not at all. A guy doesn’t go very far without his wallet. A sharp knife of fear stabbed me when I held the worn leather in my hands. “Did you look inside?”

  “Yes,” Beau said tersely. “His ID, credit card, and a few hundred dollars in cash are still inside.”

  “He was terrified when he threw his wallet inside the bag. It was probably the last thing put in the bag before he zipped it up. It wouldn’t take much for the wallet to fall to the bottom of the bag.” An image of a young guy with shiny black hair and vibrant blue eyes came to me. He was inside rustic-looking rooms with bunk beds. He had packed his belongings as fast as he could and saw his wallet on the nightstand. Instead of tucking it into his pocket, he tossed it inside his open duffel bag because he needed to make a fast escape. “He was trying to flee for his life.”

  “I fucking knew it. What else do you see?”

  I slowly opened my eyes and looked into blue ones that were eerily similar to Kent Jessup’s. I opened the wallet and removed the driver license, and a younger version of Beau Rossi stared back at me. The only differences were their hair color, age, and last name. I had read that Kent was twenty-two when he went missing, so Beau wasn’t old enough to be his father. I was curious to know their real connection, but I didn’t want my visions compromised by asking too many questions.

  I shared with Beau the few details I saw in my vision. I could tell by the fierce look in his eyes that he knew the location I described. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you anything else. Sometimes things will come to me days later, so don’t give up hope.”

  “I wish I could take you out to that ranch, but I can’t do that without a warrant. I have talked to the owner a few times, and he threatened me with a harassment lawsuit if I showed up without a signed warrant from a judge.” Beau pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll just hope that something more comes to you—something that leads to a solid piece of evidence so I can get that warrant. I know that my… Kent didn’t just disappear without a trace. He had help. At this point, I just want to return his body to his family.”

  “I hope that I can help you with that,” I told him. “Do you know any of Kent’s favorite places around Big Timber? I can see if I pick up any details.”

  “I can tell you what I’ve learned from interviewing people around town that knew him,” he replied.

  “Okay, that’s a good start.”

  Beau rattled off a few locations including a diner and the library while he drove me back to the B&B. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “If it’s okay with you, I’d rather go by myself so that I’m not confusing your energy with anything that Kent might’ve left behind.”

  “Sounds fair,” he said amicably. “Just give me a call if you need my assistance.”

  The B&B was in an uproar when I went inside. Two couples that looked to be in their mid to late forties stood inside bickering back and forth.

  “This is your son’s fault,” a raven-haired woman said. She had the same cornflower-blue eyes as Caroline, and I started to get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “He seduced her into leaving town with him.”

  The other woman narrowed her eyes and said, “That little trollop is the one using her—”

  “Finish that sentence, and I’ll kick your pretentious ass up and down this fucking street,” the first woman said.

  “See, Steven. This is what our son tied himself to when he ran off with that girl.”

  “Everyone, calm down!” Martha yelled. “Maybe we can have the marriage annulled.”

  “Yeah, right,” a man I assumed to be Chase’s father said. “She’ll do her damnedest to get pregnant so she can sink her claws into him for the rest of her life.”

  “That’s it!” Caroline’s mom said, lunging toward Chase’s father. Her fingers bent to resemble claws, and I was pretty sure she would’ve scratched his eyes out had her husband not grabbed her around the waist.

  “Don’t give them more fodder to use against us, Betsy.”

  I skirted around the feud and headed up to my room. I flopped on my bed without taking off my shoes. I had a sick feeling that the kids took my advice and literally ran with it. Holy hell, I should’ve just kept my damn mouth shut. I was hungry again, and even though dinner time was fast approaching, I was pretty sure the kitchen wouldn’t be serving food that night. I told myself to get up and go to the diner that Beau told me about, but my eyes suddenly felt heavy with exhaustion.

  I fell into a deep, hard sleep like I do when a vision reveals itself to me. Instead of dreaming of the fate that befell Kent, I dreamed of Jon. My heart raced with excitement when I felt his presence right before the vision unfurled, but it skidded to a stop when I saw Jon having sex with someone else. I recognized the guy too; it was the bartender from Vibe.

  I woke up drenched in sweat and shivering from head to toe, gasping for air as if I’d been holding it for several minutes. My lungs burned when I sucked precious oxygen into them. I felt tears streaming down my face, but couldn’t figure out why I was crying. Didn’t he tell me he was going to try and forget that I existed? Maybe that was his way of doing just that. It was no more than I deserved, but why then did I feel so fucking betrayed? Jon and his fuck boy didn’t matter to me. I told myself that at least a hundred times while I took a quick shower to warm the chill that had pervaded my body.

  I sat in the bathtub when I couldn’t stand any longer and let the water beat down on me. I could try to convince myself I wasn’t crying over Jon all I wanted, but I tasted the salt of my tears when I licked my lips.

  Damn you, Jon. You weren’t supposed to matter.

  I knew that Emory was back in Ohio after talking to Beau on the phone. He told me that Emory hadn’t led him to any new evidence, but the psychic energy that Emory detected seemed to confirm Beau’s theory that something bad had happened to Kent Jessup. I was tempted to do some research of my own to figure out Beau’s connection to the missing man but chose to wait until my friend felt comfortable confiding in me. I owed him time and patience.

  I was relieved that Emory made it back to Ohio safely, but I dreaded looking into his eyes. I’d learned how to mask my emotions long ago, but I knew that Emory would take one look at me and see right through my charade. I shouldn’t have felt a moment’s guilt for having sex with Alexander, but I did anyway. I thought about skipping Josh and Gabe’s wedding to avoid him, but I wasn’t the kind of man who backed down. I’d own my actions and accept the consequences. Besides, what the fuck was he going to do? Stop talking to me? Deny that he wanted me as bad as I wanted him? He’d already done those things, so I had nothing to lose.

  Josh and Gabe’s wedding was a first for me though. People in my line of work didn’t settle down with spouses, kids, and dogs, not that I gave marriages and happily ever after much thought back then—or now for that matter. An image of Emory laughing at someone’s joke at one of the Sunday gatherings popped into my mind. Liar. I
was getting sick and fucking tired of that little voice calling me out every time I turned around. What was it anyway? A newly developed subconscious? He could go back to my fiery-pit-of-hell soul and burn.

  Josh and Gabe’s back yard looked stunning; even a knuckle dragger like me recognized beauty when presented with it. There were two groups of chairs separated by an aisle. I had no idea which groom was standing where so I just picked the right side since it was the direction my dick hung. I felt the moment Emory arrived. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt my pulse pounding in my neck. I swallowed hard and turned to look for him and wasn’t surprised to find him staring back at me. It was like we couldn’t help it.

  Emory looked the same, yet different. The designer beard was gone, but his hairstyle still looked the same. Yeah, I still mourned the loss of his beautiful hair. The dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep weren’t new, and that same disapproving frown graced his beautiful face. Nothing changed about his outward appearance, but something was off about him. I couldn’t quite place it until his light green eyes ensnared me and held me captive. I saw anger and hurt in his gaze, but why? I hadn’t talked to him since our text exchange, so why… My eyes widened when I realized that he knew about Alexander. If he saw that, what else could he see? I didn’t want Emory to know some of the things I’d done on behalf of Uncle Sam.

  My prediction that Emory would belong to me—at least physically—would never happen if he knew the kind of man I was—am. I was trying to be a better person, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that a few good deeds would erase the bad ones. In the pit of my soul lived a monster undeserving of love and it was best if I kept reminding myself of that instead of hanging on to false hope that some shiny love was out there waiting for me. Some people were destined to walk this world alone; I was one of them.

  What right did he have to be hurt or angry? I turned my head, breaking our connection, and focused on the altar. I tamped down the urge to get up and leave before I did something stupid or said something I couldn’t take back. I was a grown-ass man who was capable of making decisions for myself. I allowed no one to lead me around by my ball sac and that wasn’t going to change just because I wanted to fuck a man who was too damn busy denying what he felt for me.

  I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood because the physical pain was so much easier for me to accept than the tangled emotions Emory brought out in me. I was so conflicted about Emory that I barely registered the wedding. I snapped out of my funk long enough to watch the grooms exchange vows. The tenderness and love Josh and Gabe shared as they committed their lives to one another only made me feel more miserable. After the ceremony, the guests retreated to the large, fancy white tent in their yard that was set up for the reception dinner. The meal was one sure thing I could count on that night because Josh was hardcore about his food. I doubted he did the cooking, but I knew he wouldn’t just pick any ole caterer without seriously vetting them either.

  The food was incredible and lived up to Josh’s high standards. I wondered how long I had to stick around before I could leave. I didn’t want to be rude by doing an eat and run. Could I amble on over to the grooms after their first dance and congratulate them? Make up a fake emergency at the club as a valid reason I burned rubber getting out of Blissville? I knew this: I had no intention of returning to the town ever again.

  The grooms took the floor and slow danced while staring into each other’s eyes. Their expressions and smiles told me that they were in a place that only the two of them existed. The song ended just as I thought I could sneak off. Instead of leaving the dance floor, a fast song started playing, and they performed a dance for us that they’d obviously choreographed for the occasion. I couldn’t help smiling as they busted their moves in time to the music. Some people sang along, some recorded the moment on their phone, and others clapped along with the beat. Once that was over, I stood to make my move, but the mothers of the grooms were asked to take to the floor.

  Instead of just dancing with their moms, they had a large projector screen showing a video of them with their families as they grew up. I got a little choked up when I saw the pictures of Gabe with his older brother. Eventually, the pictures were of the two men as they started dating and falling in love. It was honestly a beautiful moment—one that I never expected to experience for myself. Happily ever after wasn’t in the cards for someone like me.

  Throughout the night, I’d felt his eyes on me. During the times in between, I checked to see if he was still sitting there like me watching the world move around us. There were a few instances where one of us didn’t look away quick enough and our eyes connected. That same yearning to hold him in my arms and kiss him washed over me each time. I thought it would’ve faded by then, but it didn’t; it just kept getting stronger until it felt like I was suffocating.

  I tore my eyes away one last time and rose to my feet. I’d had as much socializing as I could take for the night—especially in an atmosphere like that one. I tapped Gabe on the shoulder, and he stopped spinning his husband around the dance floor.

  “I’m going to head south,” I told them. “I want to congratulate you both and wish you the very best.”

  “That sounds like goodbye, Jon,” Josh said, narrowing his eyes.

  “Not at all,” I replied. I was no longer willing to give up my friends because Emory was stubborn. “I hope you have an amazing time in Hawaii. I’ll see you when you return.”

  “Drive safely,” Gabe said to me as I walked away, making me smile. I didn’t know that I was suffocating on my longing for Emory until I left the wedding. I breathed easier with every step that took me away from the venue. I had nearly reached my sleek, black sedan when I felt Emory’s presence. The strong breeze that suddenly kicked up out of nowhere felt like an omen. The trees that lined the street began to sway; their drying leaves rasping and scraping against each other like my frayed nerves. I had to get away before I snapped and said—or did—something I couldn’t take back.

  “Jon.” Emory said my name so softly that it almost felt like a caress.

  I stopped at the hood of my car and turned back to face him. The street lamp shone down on me, bathing me in a bright glow, which made the gaps between lamp posts look darker. It had taken several heartbeats before I detected Emory’s movement in the shadows as he got closer to me. Finally, he stepped into the circle of light with me. He looked up into my eyes, and I saw acceptance. Unfortunately, it was a grim acknowledgment, not joyful.

  “I didn’t think I had a heart left until I met you, Emory. Watching you struggle to deny what’s happening between us tears me up inside.” I closed the small distance between us and pressed my lips to his forehead. Emory gasped and gripped my shirt at my waist with both hands. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to pull me closer or push me away; I didn’t think he knew either. “I’m not sure I can stay away from you, but I’m going to try. I can’t keep hurting you like this.”

  Emory stepped even closer. “Don’t go,” he whispered brokenly. “Not yet.” He raised his head and looked up at me. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and there was no way I could deny him anything. “I don’t have the right to ask—”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Emory swallowed hard and shook his head. Then he closed his eyes but not before tears escaped and slid down his cheeks. I had never been a tender person—never wanted to be either—but Emory changed that. I brushed his tears away with my thumbs and pulled him tight against me, rocking us back and forth. I knew it was probably the closest thing to a slow dance that I’d ever get with Emory.

  “I’m so sorry, Em,” I whispered into his hair.

  “For what?” Emory asked, his words muffled by my chest. “You’re not responsible for the hand that fate dealt me. Or are you apologizing for the bartender?”

  I slid my hand beneath his chin and tipped his head back so that he looked into my eyes. “If my actions hurt you, then yes, I apologize for them. I was angry and
tried to force you out of my mind.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Not even close, and I regret it more than you’ll ever know.” My answer seemed to mollify him a little bit.

  “What am I going to do with you, Jon?”

  “I have some suggestions, but you’re not ready to hear them.” I wanted to add yet, but the reality was that Emory might never be ready.

  Emory snorted. “Probably not.”

  I ran my thumb over his bottom lip, and it was just as soft as I imagined. Emory’s tongue darted out to dampen the flesh I just touched, and it broke the little control I had. “I’m going to kiss you, Emory.” I lowered my head slowly, so he had time to react. Nothing with him needed to be fast or hard—yet.

  He swallowed nervously but didn’t pull away or tell me no. I paused just before our lips touched to give him one last chance to reject me. He didn’t, so I pressed my lips against his. We both gasped and pulled back in surprise at the electrical current that ran between us. Emory reached up and touched his lips in disbelief. Then he surprised me by putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me to him for a deeper kiss.

  My body demanded that I take, but I knew I would ruin everything if I pushed him too far, too fast. I traced his lips with the tip of my tongue learning the shape and taste of them. Emory parted his lips invitingly and sighed softly. I took my sweet time drawing out his pleasure before I eased my tongue into his mouth. My God, I wanted to ravage and devour that sweet mouth, but I loved learning the texture of his tongue as it rubbed and twirled around mine. I tasted the sweetness of the wedding cake he ate and the champagne he drank to toast the new grooms. I wanted so badly to strip him bare and learn every single texture of his slim body, but it wasn’t the right time.

  Emory wasn’t immune to me either. I felt his erection pressing against mine as he aligned his body fully against me. The only way for him to get closer was to crawl inside my body. I kept my hands in safe zones; one was on the side of his neck and the other cupped the back of his head. Emory wasn’t as shy and ran his hands up and down my ribcage before he moved them to my lower back. He dug his fingers into the flesh above my waistband when I sucked his tongue into my mouth like I planned to do with his cock someday.